Spotlight on: Click of Fate by Lauren Helms

Click of Fate by Lauren Helms
 is a flirty, heartfelt romance with heat, humor, and a whole lot of chaos. With tropes like one-night stand to more, he-falls-first, and forced proximity, it’s perfect for readers who love emotional depth, found family, and a hero who falls hard—and a heroine who’s terrified he means it.
Blurb Once upon a time, there was a charming climber and a stubborn photographer who swore she’d never fall—until she did. Stella I don’t do roots. Or relationships. Or anything that involves the word “forever.” But Luke Farley? He’s the kind of man who makes one night feel like a promise. With that stupidly perfect smile, a body built for sin, and hands that know exactly what they’re doing—he’s dangerously easy to want. It was supposed to be casual. A few non-dates, a little flirting, and zero expectations. Now I’m staring down feelings I swore I’d never catch… and falling for a man who climbs like he was born to take risks. And worst of all? I don’t want to run. Luke Stella Young walked into my life like a dare I couldn’t resist—smart mouth, with a camera around her neck and zero intention of sticking around. She warned me not to catch feelings. Too late. She’s the one I want—complicated, messy, and magnetic as hell. She says she’s not built for love. I think she’s just scared of falling. Good thing I’m here to catch her. Click of Fate is a swoony, one-night-stand romance about climbing risks, letting go of fear, and finding the kind of love worth falling for.

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Excerpt 

Copyright 2025, Lauren Helms

When Alex texted me earlier today and told me about the fun special he had running tonight, he demanded that I stop by. When I realized I actually had the evening free and didn’t really need to stick around my office until ten like I normally do, I decided beer and meatballs sounded pretty fire. “So, I’m not going to lie, I was wondering what Meatball Thursday was all about,” Stella says, reading over the small menu Alex dropped in front of us. Glancing down at it myself, I realize he once again went all out for specialty food night. “Yeah, I’ll give it to Alex. He knows how to pair beer and food.” I chuckle when I see he has seven different pairings. “I never really think much of meatballs, but I’m strangely excited about this.” “Do you think meatballs live rent-free in most people’s minds?” I ask her, and while she doesn’t look at me, I see her smile and know I’m on the right track with her. I really didn’t plan on hooking up tonight, but this woman is intriguing as hell. There is something about her that screams, You want to get to know me, but I won’t make it easy. I’ve always found that hard work pays off. “So, you own a rock climbing gym?” she asks as she looks around the crowded bar. I guess I still haven’t earned her full attention. “I run it. I don’t own it yet. Family business. I’ve been given some freedom to prove myself,” I tell her honestly. “Ah. That sounds both invigorating and stressful.” She glances at me. The Trading Post isn’t a dark and dreary place, so there’s plenty of light for me to see the look she gives me. She must know a thing or two about having to prove herself. “It is. What about you?” I ask her, picking up my glass and taking a sip. She finally gives me her attention, and her face lights up as she starts to share. “I’m a photojournalist.” Impressed, I lean back and whistle. “Look at you. That’s an impressive career.” She smiles and shrugs, trying to play it cool. “So, what kind of things do you photo journal about?” She lifts her chin. “Sports, cultural events, and human-interest stories across the US.” “Like…” I just want her to keep talking; she’s clearly passionate about her career. “I’ve covered Mardi Gras, several major music festivals, people with interesting jobs—like storm chasers—and most recently, last year’s X Games in Aspen.” “Wow. So I bet you’ve seen a lot of interesting stuff.” “You could say that. But I’ve never needed a meatball served seven ways with beer.” She laughs, grinning wide, and I can’t help it—I’m locked in. She’s fucking gorgeous when she isn’t pretending she isn’t invested in our conversation. Determined, I clear my throat. “All right, first test. What kind of meatballs are you getting?” I ask her. “What do you mean, first test? What happens if I fail?” She finally looks away from the menu and levels me with a challenging look. “I get up and leave. That’s it. That’s the deal breaker.” I know I’m taking a risk by saying this, but I’m nothing if not a risk taker. She ponders this for a moment, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “That’s dramatic. You own a climbing gym, not a Michelin-star restaurant.” “Hey, you learn a lot about a person from their food choices. You get Swedish meatballs, you’re a comfort creature. You pick buffalo, you live for chaos.” “And what about bourbon barbecue?” she asks, eyeing the menu again. “You like things sweet with a little kick. You act tough but secretly love cozy things, like flannel and autumn and sad acoustic music.” I don’t tell her that perfectly describes me. “That’s disturbingly specific. Do you also moonlight as a psychic?” she challenges. “Nah, I just observe things.” I grin at her and tap my glass. We’ll need to get some food in front of us before we get another drink if we plan on keeping up this flirting tonight. “All right, Professor Meatball, what are you getting?” she asks as she turns toward me, crossing one leg over the other, her Converse-covered foot dangling dangerously close. “I’m feeling the Korean gochujang. Spicy, unexpected, and a little bit of an adventure,” I tell her with a slow, knowing smirk. Let her read into that. Her mouth twitches with a ghost of a smile. “That tracks. I was gonna say it sounds reckless, but you probably climb rocks for fun.” “And you photograph people doing reckless things for fun. Not so different.” “Hmm. Maybe.” She studies me, and the attention is addicting. “So, what’s it gonna be? Are we food soulmates or is this doomed before it starts?” Stella taps her finger over her lips as she pretends to think hard. Laughter twinkles in her eyes as she watches me. “Bourbon barbecue. Guess I’m leaning into the ‘sweet with a kick’ label.” I pump my fist in the air. “Knew it.”

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About Lauren Helms

Lauren Helms writes romance that’s nerdy, flirty, and just a little bit dirty. Her stories are set in big cities with small-town vibes, where every couple gets their happily ever after—and probably a few swoony gaming references along the way. Her love for love stories started with a book blog and leveled up fast—thanks to her background in video game strategy publishing and a passion for stories that make your heart race. That magic combo sparked her beloved Gamer Boy series, and she’s been writing HEAs ever since. She’s also the founder of Indie Pen PR, where she helps fellow romance authors bring their book boyfriends to life and make some serious buzz in the process. When she’s not plotting meet-cutes or helping other authors promote theirs, Lauren’s all about iced coffee, perfectly color-coded planners, and binge-worthy TV. She lives in Indianapolis with her husband and their three aspiring nerds-in-training—where love, laughter, and chaos are always part of the storyline. Follow: Facebook | Reader GroupInstagram | TikTok | Goodreads | AmazonBookBub | Website | Newsletter |

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Friendship Fling by Georgia Stone – Q&A + Giveaway

We are happy to welcome Georgia Stone. Ask the author a question or leave a comment for the chance to win a copy of the book.

How long have you been writing?

One of the earliest stories I remember writing was a modern-day Cinderella retelling when I was probably about eight – written entirely in a bright pink notebook with a pink fluffy pen, of course.

As a teenager, I dabbled in fanfiction, but I had a habit of starting a fic and then getting distracted by a new idea and starting that instead. I think in the end, I only completed two stories – at the time, they felt like huge literary masterpieces, but looking back, I’m pretty sure they weren’t even a quarter of the length of my novels today.

I was a copywriter in my early and mid-twenties, and I thought I’d reached my peak with that – I was writing for a living! Over time, though, I became more and more aware that I wasn’t writing anything I was passionate about, so in 2022 I started writing The Friendship Fling.

So I guess, to summarise, in terms of novel writing, I’m still a baby, but I’ve been dipping in and out of writing my whole life. Eight-year-old me with her fluffy pink pen would be buzzing to see me now.

What advice would you give a new writer just starting out?

Try to enjoy the experience of writing your first book, because you’ll never get another experience like it again. You get to move at your own pace, it’s very much focused on figuring out if you even can write a book, and it’s overall so much fun just to let the story take you where it needs to without a deadline on your shoulders.

Also, don’t put too much stock in advice that speaks in absolutes. Never do this! Always do this! If you don’t do this, you’ll fail! A lot of advice out there is treated as if it’s universal, when really it should be situation specific. Know that you’re smart enough to figure out what works for you, your books, and your lifestyle.

What comes first, the plot or characters?

Definitely the characters. Sometimes they’re super clear right from the start, other times I just know their general vibes, but I usually end up building the plot around who the characters are. And as a romance author, one of the first things I decide is what kind of dynamic the two main characters will have, because that will inform how the romantic arc unfolds.
I always wish I could come up with super cool, fresh hooks and marketable ideas for the plot and then build my story and characters around that, but that’s just not how it works for me.

Tell us something about your newest release that is NOT in the blurb.

A big part of my main character Ava’s arc revolves around her relationship with her twin brother Max. He shows up in the book a few times and is one of my favourite characters (mostly because he’s a bit of a menace, and unfortunately that is extremely hot to me).

No one would ever call Ava Monroe a people person, which isn’t ideal for a barista in a busy London coffee shop. She’s sarcastic, blunt, and cynical, and her relationships are strictly no strings attached. With her best friend Josie soon leaving for a year, Ava knows she’ll be all alone unless she shakes up her routine. But she can’t risk bringing chance back into her carefully controlled life.

Then insufferably cheerful, country-hopping, undeniably gorgeous Finn O’Callaghan rolls into her coffee shop with a horrifying proposal —a strictly friends-only summer fling. Finn needs a local to help him complete his London bucket list, and Ava needs to reassure Josie she won’t be on her own. And it’s only for a few months.

To Ava’s surprise, their mismatched friendship of convenience becomes oddly tolerable, and as they work their way through Finn’s list and around the sun-drenched city, from rooftops and floating bars to nights at the museum, their adventures—and Finn’s company—start to feel . . . nice. Incredibly, terrifyingly, dangerously nice.

Still, rules are rules—Ava has good reasons for them—and as the days get shorter, Finn’s departure gets closer. Because that’s the thing about summer: it always ends. Right?

About the AuthorGeorgia Stone is a romance author based in London. She writes love stories filled with heart, heat, and slightly ridiculous humor. Outside of writing novels, she’s usually swooning over other people’s stories, copywriting and proofreading for work, or doing a piece of entirely unnecessary DIY in her extremely colourful flat.

Between the Living and the Dead by Sophie Jupillat Posey – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sophie Jupillat Posey will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The dead won’t leave her alone. For Cavilla, it’s one case after another…

Cavilla Ramirez is an average Peruvian teen, tethered to the 1990s rhythm of clarinet rehearsals, dog-eared Agatha Christie novels, and low-stakes schoolyard mysteries. But when a hit-and-run claims her two best friends, her world implodes—and then restructures itself in a seemingly impossible and unnerving way. Her friends aren’t gone. Their ghosts linger, needing her help in solving their murder so that they can cross over. And it’s not just them. Ghosts are everywhere, and somehow, she’s the only one who can see them.

With a protector in the form of a god-turned-cat, Cavilla becomes a reluctant guide between Peru’s realms of the living and the dead. Solving murders and helping the dead find closure becomes her new normal. But every answer she uncovers tugs loose something else: long-buried secrets about her own heritage, secrets her aunt Tia Luz would rather keep six feet under.

And as Cavilla finds out, not all ghosts need guidance. One presence stands apart, watching her… waiting.

And he isn’t asking for help. He wants her – or something she has.

Enjoy an Excerpt

I knew something was wrong when dusk wasn’t followed by night. It was happening again; my third time this year. The sun just set over the hills, but the light froze, as if a greedy hand had seized it and squeezed it. The motes of ashen light trickled through the violet clouds into my bedroom window. I passed my hand through the dull sunbeam, my brown color paling as it mingled with the dusk. Even my gold leaf bracelet lost its luster and glow. The hoarse calling of Tia Luz Marina for dinner time quieted and softened until her always angry-sounding voice was nothing but a hush.

That time, I held still and breathed slowly, slitting my eyes until my vision doubled. Focus on the intangible, I coaxed myself. The withered light impregnated every corner, every detail of my messy room. It turned into ghosts the coloring books, the woolen dolls, the half-empty bottles of acrylic paint. When it fell on the spirits of my deceased friends, Niko, and Angelica, sitting on the floor by my bed, it brought them further into focus.

The queer dusk light slipped into my short bathroom hallway and vanished. I stared at that dark entryway, convinced there was something more there. For years, I’d been telling Tia Luz Marina
that there were ghosts in the bathroom, but she tossed the notion aside. She said believing in ghosts was a gringa thing. Yet, when I pressed her on ghosts and gods from stories of our Peruvian culture, she shied away.

About the Author: Sophie Jupillat Posey has an enriched passion for writing and music that allows her to captivate audiences with her unique style in poetry, novellas and novels. As she lives her life around the beauty and art and the inspiration from others, Sophie manages to create worlds that her readers will find themselves immersed in. With her passion for the arts, she has also studied music and writing at Rollins College, which can be found as guiding pieces in her works. She is the author of several pieces, including the YA fantasy “The Four Suitors”, the short story sci-fi collection “The Inside Out Worlds: Visions of Strange,” several bilingual children’s books and a poetry chapbook. Having lived in the US for many years, Sophie now calls France her home, bringing more of her passion for the arts in her books.

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Let Me Go by Tricia T. LaRochelle – Spotlight

Welcome to a pre-order book blitz for LET ME GO by Tricia T. LaRochelle which will be released on June 24.

Jacob “JC” Sullivan is living the high life in New York City, where his stockbroker career has earned him everything he ever wanted—except someone to share it with. A childhood shaped by his parents’ toxic marriage has left him convinced that love is a trap. But when his grandfather passes away and leaves him a vacation home in the quiet town of Buckingham, Vermont, JC reluctantly follows through on his final wish: spend one month there and decide if it’s worth keeping.

What JC doesn’t expect to find is Iris Flynn—a mysterious woman living in isolation with a past she’s determined to forget. Her beauty and guarded nature intrigue him, but it’s only when he witnesses the threats from locals targeting her that he’s forced to confront the undeniable chemistry between them. As they become closer, JC starts to see that his life in the city, filled with fleeting relationships and shallow success, has left him empty.

Iris, scarred by mistakes from her teenage years, has spent too much time running from her past, but JC makes her want to face those truths she’s so skillfully buried. Together, they discover that healing begins when you let go of your fears—and gamble on each other. But their growing connection threatens dark forces determined to keep Iris alone.

Let Me Go is a heart-wrenching, emotional journey about love, redemption, and the courage to forgive—not just others, but yourself.

About the Author: Since she was a little girl, award-winning author Tricia T. LaRochelle has been obsessed with tragic love stories. No beach reads for her. Bring on the grit with a double side of turmoil. She likes to feel the character’s anguish as they fight to overcome obstacles to be together. Growing up in central Vermont, she has seen her share of tragedy but remains a hopeful romantic. She now lives in central Virginia, where she continues to foster the possibilities of how love can conquer all.

Flickering Heart, part of her Sara Browne series, won a Gold Medal in the 2023 Readers’ Favorite Contest for New Adult and was a first-place winner in the 2022 Incipere Awards for romance. Revive received an Honorable Mention in the 2022 Incipere Awards for romance in the same series. Her stand-alone contemporary, Sun in My Heart, won second place in the 2024 Bookfest Awards for Romance-Contemporary Romance-New Adult and a Bronze Medal in the 2024 Readers’ Favorite Contest for New Adult Fiction. Her next installment in the Sara Browne Series, Bleeding Heart – A Holiday Romance launches December, 3rd 2024.

Subscribe to her newsletter at tricialarochelle.com and receive updates and opportunities to win prizes or follow her on X, Threads, Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, or Pinterest.

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Guest Post from Aaron Christopher Drown author of A Sister to Butterflies

There are books that sparkle with surface magic—and then there are books like A Sister to Butterflies, which glow from within. This is a quiet, aching story of transformation, told through the lens of grief and memory.

The narrator, an ancient voice speaking to an infant, reveals the story of a fateful choice: the moment she left her realm of light for the world of flesh. There, she met a boy who taught her about love—but also about loss. The relationship between them becomes a thread that pulls at the seams of reality, and what begins as a fairy tale becomes something deeper, sadder, and far more human.

Aaron Christopher Drown is a multidisciplinary storyteller with a deep love for nuance and language. With roots in Maine and a home in Washington, he’s published widely in fantasy and speculative fiction. He’s received numerous literary accolades, including the Darrell Award, BIBA, and Imadjinn Awards. When not writing, he speaks at events on topics like branding, authorship, and design. His creative world blends art, myth, and emotional truth—and this latest novel may be his most resonant yet.

Enjoy a guest post from the author:

You’ve heard it before. A hundred times. A thousand times.

It’s the track that almost didn’t make the album that wins the Grammy. It’s the actress who’d been passed over but then given one last look who takes home the Oscar. It’s the idea just about everyone dismissed as crazy that ends up taking the world by storm.

For writers, amateur and established alike, the lesson there is that it takes just one person to say yes. Just one person who’s willing to accept a little risk on your behalf is often all that lies between you and your deserved triumph. Which is why the task that’s even more arduous than all the long days and late nights of writing, editing, and changing is simply not to give up until you find that one person who recognizes your work for the worthy thing it is.

Someone told me early on that if you’re not receiving a steady supply of rejection letters, then you’re not doing it right. You’re not really trying to break through as a writer. Because everyone gets rejected, repeatedly and mercilessly. But that’s the game. That’s the lottery you can’t win if you don’t play. And as you persist, take comfort in the impressive company of rebuffed authors you’re keeping:

Stephen King’s Carrie received dozens of rejections before finally selling—but only because his wife found the manuscript in the trash and insisted he try one more time. The Lord of the Flies was turned down twenty times. One publisher who read Anne Frank’s diary found it scarcely worth reading because it didn’t “have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the ‘curiosity’ level.” John Grisham’s A Time to Kill had to make its way through a dozen publishers and sixteen agents before seeing the light of day. Dune received twenty-three rejections. Publishers dismissed Watership Down repeatedly because no one thought children would understand its prose. A Wrinkle in Time has twenty-six rejection letters under its belt. Gone with the Wind has that beat with thirty-eight. A publisher thought the collective verdict of H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds would be, “Oh, don’t read that horrid book.” Even Chicken Soup of the Soul, which went on to sell a metric-gazillion of copies, let alone its infinite list of follow-ups, was turned down more than one hundred times. And the first book of the Harry Potter series was rejected by nearly every publisher in the U.K. before going on to make J.K. Rowling literally richer than the Queen of England.

If you believe in your work, if you can look in the mirror and say wholeheartedly what you’re submitting is the cleanest, tightest, absolute best you can possibly make it, then keep going. Don’t stop. Send it out again. And again. And again. Don’t dare let those interested in merely capitalizing on what’s safe—on what others have heard before a hundred times; a thousand times—decide whether your writing is worth being read by the world. That one person’s out there. Right now.

But keep in mind, sometimes that one person is you.

About the book:

There are lures irresistible regardless of peril, because some yearnings renounce all wisdom.

There are bonds that compel no matter how faraway, because some needs are dire enough to defy all cost.

But when reason, distance, and danger go unheeded, that price can be devastating despite all the magic in one’s grasp.

A Sister to Butterflies tells a different sort of once upon a time, a shimmering tale of a creature torn between worlds, whose wondrous deeds would become fable, and whose terrible mistakes would alter the destinies of everyone around her.

Enjoy an excerpt:

This is not the first time you’ve heard this. Nor, I hope, will it be the last.

What’s amusing—or shameful, depending on how you come to see it—is how often I think I’ve sufficiently untangled my mind to tell my tale, yet still find myself uncertain where to begin. Part of me wishes not to have to begin at all since you’re too tiny to understand it anyhow. But the rest of me knows this is much more for my own benefit than yours—for the time being—and that as far as penance goes, what I’ve apportioned myself can hardly be considered severe.

So, for both our sakes, I’ll muddle through as best I can. Again.

The thing I always try to explain first, so that what I have to tell you makes any sense at all, is that there are indeed other worlds than this. A great many people take a great deal of comfort from believing that what they can reconcile with their eyes and ears constitutes the summation of existence. But I dearly hope you believe me when I say that creation is much too grand to contain but a single realm and a single way of being.

Some of these other worlds are far removed from here. Others press right up against this particular where and when but lie hidden—in the shade of a high hill, within the eddies of a brook, or even under one’s bed at a certain time of day. A drifting speck of dust flaring in a beam of afternoon sun might easily be the birth, life, and demise of an entire civilization.

And how can I state this so unequivocally?

Because one of those other worlds is mine.

And though it still grieves me to think about my home, worse is knowing I no longer remember it correctly. Not the tall, prismatic grasses of the countryside through which I ran and hid. Not the apricot scent of my father’s pipe after supper each evening. I know there are colors there that simply cannot exist here, hues so vibrant and tinges so subtle no mortal could ever appreciate them, but I also know they are beyond me now even in my imagination. The distance between myself and what I once held most dear has grown so great, it’s become nonsensical.

But my tale begins not so much with my world as it does with what lies at its edge, with what separates it from yours—
A shimmering veil of mist.

The first time I ever crossed the mists is still as clear to me as the day you were born. Of course, as I said, there’s little comfort in that clarity since I’m certain my recollection is entirely wrong.

I finished my regular chores that bright blue morning as quickly as I could. I threw some odds and ends into a knapsack and slipped away before my father could invent more for me to do. Father, a broad man browned and bleached by the sun, disapproved of my gadding about. He believed the best ways in life were fashioned from hard work and sweat and that, as far as he was concerned, having a few tasks too many was just the right amount to keep me out of trouble. That’s not to suggest any sort of cruelty on his part, though he could be quite stern—and quite remote—and he was most assuredly set in his ways.

The dew still clung cold and heavy on the ground as I headed out, so I sloshed to the nearby meadow to meet up with my two best friends—my two only friends, really—Whistle and Smudge.

Those weren’t actually their names, mind you. Just the names my human self has given them.

I most often picture Whistle as tall and spindly with a disheveled tabby coat of white and orange fur. His face was long and oval, and on either side of his mouth drooped lengthy mustaches like a catfish. When he spoke it was the merry chirp of a piccolo, which belied his normally dour nature.

Smudge, however, never let anything bother him, and among us he was often the voice of reason. While all of my kind can work magic to an extent, those who display exceptional talent are schooled in the deeper arts, and Smudge was that sort. I remember him looking like a field mouse that some prankster had inflated into a sphere. The ends of his grey fur always seemed strangely indistinct, as though he’d been scribbled with charcoal and then blurred by the artist’s thumb. That made staring at Smudge uncomfortable and might be why Whistle rarely won arguments with him. Smudge had a low, soothing croak of a voice and a fondness for peppering his language with mild vulgarities—a harmless and amusing trait, because he didn’t do it very well.

I found my friends that morning where we normally gathered—amidst the pink and tangerine hillocks by the forest’s edge—already engaged in some game. Against a backdrop of crimson trees, Whistle brandished with theatrical flourishes a sword he’d made from two bits of stick tied together. Smudge stood impassively facing the opposite way with a wooden shield strapped to his back. Whistle bellowed things like, “Have at you!” and “Back, foul beast!” and then for all he was worth whacked the shield Smudge wore. Rather than respond in kind, Smudge instead gave his attentions to conversing with a speckled butterfly wobbling past. Like most apprentice magicians, he preferred games like Stone, Paper, Dagger—which, by the way, he never, ever lost.

“Good morning!” I called.

Smudge turned, causing Whistle to miss his target and tumble into the wet grass.

“Good morning!” he replied, with a smile.

Whistle picked himself up, brushing dirty clots from his soggy fur.

“Yes, yes,” he muttered. “Good morning, good morning.”

“Did you have a lovely breakfast?” Smudge asked. For some reason he’d always concerned himself with whether I’d eaten recently and whether what I’d eaten had been sufficiently nourishing. Well, not for some reason; I’d been known to make myself sick by getting so caught up in whatever I happened to be doing that I simply forgot to eat.

“Yes, thanks,” I said. “Berry jam on toast and orange blossom tea.”

“Oh, that does damn sound lovely,” Smudge agreed.

“So, what’s in store for us this time?” Whistle asked, ignoring Smudge and sounding impatient to get the day started.

Of the three, it usually fell to me to make the plans. Smudge was happy to go along with whatever activities crossed his path, and Whistle knew that if he thought something up and it turned out less than entertaining it’d be his fault, leaving him no room to complain. Normally, I concocted our amusements on the spot, whether it was a game or contest or other such sport. But that day I’d arrived with an aim already well in mind.

“Today,” I said, “we undertake a harrowing expedition.”

Smudge seemed intrigued. “What sort of expedition?”

“Another trip out to the Duchess’s cottage, I’ll wager,” Whistle said.

It was true that our missions to the Duchess’s summer home had been numerous, but it was also true those missions yielded Whistle a considerable haul of underwear from her laundry line. The Duchess, being rather gigantic, had unwittingly provided him enough material to fashion a roomy tent after only our second trip, so in my opinion Whistle had no room to grouse—unlike Smudge, who’d toppled headfirst into her fishpond trying to yank down a particularly heavy garment.

But the Duchess was not what I had planned.

“My comrades,” I said, “today I am heading deep into the forests … to cross the mists!”

Whistle sighed loudly. Smudge looked disappointed.

“Oh, pleh,” Whistle grumbled. “We do that almost as much as we go to the Duchess’s.”

“We damn do go there a lot,” Smudge agreed.

“Ah,” I said, “but this time will be different.”

Whistle crossed his arms. “And how’s that?”

“Because today,” I said, “I really am going to venture through.”

My friends looked at one another, then at me.

“Like we haven’t heard that before, either.” Whistle said.

I’m obliged to admit he had another point. Many times, my boasting had painted me into corners from which there’d been no escape without considerable bruising to my pride. This particular corner had one wall comprised of my incessant desire to explore the mists and the other of my unfailing reluctance to actually do so. I still can’t say what it was about that morning that set my mind to finally going through with it. I don’t recall the sky being any bluer or myself feeling any taller. All I know is I awoke that day with an unshakable certainty of what I wanted to do, and there was no question in my mind that in the end, one way or another, I’d be doing it.

“Well,” I said, “I suppose the only way you’ll find out is to come along and see for yourself.”

With that, I strode between the two of them, pushing Whistle’s stick sword aside, and headed toward the forest. They didn’t take long to fall into step behind me.

About the Author:

Aaron Christopher Drown is a native of Brunswick, Maine, who’s lived all over and whose stories have appeared in equally numerous magazines and anthologies. His debut novel, A Mage of None Magic, won the 2010 Darrell Award for Best Novel, and as he’s promised his publisher for years, he’s hard at work on the follow-up. An award-winning graphic designer as well, Aaron resides in Washington state with his wife, Sarah, their dog and cat, and his trusty Macbook, Sancho.

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📸 @aaronchristopherdrown
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Amazon: https://bit.ly/4desf8s

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/232027101-a-sister-to-butterflies

Tamari Island by Joy Allyson – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Joy Allyson 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.

Emmie Prescott, the smart, pretty granddaughter of a United States senator, leaps at an offer to work on Tamari Island, a remote South Pacific island after a disastrous family exposé crushed her dream job aspirations. Her first day on the island sparks fly when she meets handsome Jack Manderly, a reporter who works on ambiguous stories for the same paper that sabotaged her career hopes. Once serious problems emerge in her new role at the designer silk plant, Emmie chooses to ignore the man whose very presence leaves her breathless.

Jack harbors a bitter sense of betrayal against Washington politicians who pressured his editor to exile him to Tamari after he linked stories of Emmie’s grandfather’s alleged activities while posted in D.C. His new assignment, tracking rumors in Southeast Asia years after the Vietnam ceasefire, is increasingly perilous. Embroiled in a dangerous mission where love and sacrifice can’t coexist, Jack strives to erase Emmie from his mind.

Despite their intentions and forced proximity, Emmie and Jack’s attraction deepen as alarming incidents occur around the island. Amidst the swirling chaos, Tamari Island deals her own hand. Will Emmie leverage her fashion connections and escape to Paris or go home and grow her political roots? And will she ever forget the man who makes her body and soul sing?

Enjoy an Excerpt

Every cell in Emmie Prescott’s body slammed into a wall. She stopped running and bending, placed her palms on her knees, and took slow, measured breaths to calm her racing heartbeat. Glancing back, she checked for anyone behind her.

Only her lone deep impressions in the sand followed her. She straightened, hands on hips, and scanned the horizon. Foam-crested waves battered the shoreline as the afternoon tide rolled in. Clear skies and blinding sunshine magnified the dazzling white beach. She swung her arms, crisscrossing, stretching the muscles as she studied the different seascape for the first time since landing.

Too late to back out now.

She swiveled her head from side to side, working out the slight crick in her neck. Sitting on a plane for thirteen hours was murder on her butt, too. Moaning, she rubbed her backside. Minutes earlier she had abandoned her unpacked suitcase in her appointed room and startled her hostess and servants, escaping through the butler’s pantry and pushing open the outside service door.

“Where are you going?” Charlotte Amhurst had demanded. “Our guests will arrive in less than an hour.”

Pleading jet lag, she flew down the rock steps to the beach for a quick jog. Charlotte, her mother’s closest friend and whose hospitality she currently benefitted from, threw up her hands. “Stay where you can always see the house,” she warned. “You’d think with the war over, it would be safe out there. It’s not as harmless as it looks.

About the Author As the daughter of a United States military officer, Joy Allyson grew up with a deep appreciation of history and a love of travel. A former teacher-turned-writer, she has an unquenchable thirst for historical romances in her reading choices and loves inserting historical nuggets in all her romances. Her favorite characters–are rebel heroines and salvageable scoundrels. She believes the best romances are the ones you want to read over and over again.

Whiskey Love, her debut novel, was selected as a 2023 Killer Nashville Best Historical Silver Falchion Award Finalist. Whiskey Secrets was chosen as a Top Pick for the 2024 Silver Falchion Awards. She has just published her third novel, Tamari Island, which has a South Pacific Island setting, and is currently writing another story to complete her Whiskey Love Trilogy.

Joy loves classic movies, chocolate, coffee, cards, and carbs. She and her husband call the beautiful hills of Tennessee home, and her two daughters and six grandchildren are nearby.

Website
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Where Ideas Come From by Christine Hart – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Christine Hart 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.

Where Ideas Come From

When I think about where my fiction ideas come from, I think about the BBC’s docuseries, The Real History of Science Fiction. Specifically, the fourth episode on Time featuring Christopher Lloyd pondering, “What if? What if?”
Almost all of my fiction these days is speculative in some way. I write magic realism, horror, and urban fantasy, as well as ‘soft’ science fiction. I think, if you are the sort of person who does a lot of daydreaming (like many neurodivergent brains are prone to do) you’ll start picturing the world (and possibly other worlds) being different than the one we’re in.

What if aliens are real? What if they’ve been here for centuries? What if our idea of what defines ‘human’ is wrong and we really have mutants among us?

I had a primary ‘what-if’ question that I used to guide The Variant Conspiracy books. What if the men destroying our world were doing it on purpose?

When I wrote this series between 2012 and 2016, I knew that the truth behind destructive forces like climate change, inequality, injustice, and other ills plaguing our world was nowhere near as complicated as an alien-led conspiracy to take over Earth. After all, what could possibly motivate corporate leaders to knowingly destroy the only habitat we, as a species, have in the universe? I wanted answers beyond greed and self-interest, coupled with a certainty that they could create a bubble of immunity for the wealthy few. And that brainstorming produced three books worth of rebel mutant mayhem.

Developing a random question into a story or novel idea is just a matter of time, if you’re so inclined. I know I’m not an activist. So, I lean on fiction to help me make statements. When something troubles me, as a woman, as a mother, as a person, I ruminate and let ideas take shape into stories.

What if the men destroying our world were doing it on purpose? The Variant Conspiracy trilogy follows 19-year-old Irina Proffer as she connects the dots between her cryptic employer’s work and an international plot to transform Earth. All while she navigates love and grief, both for the first time.

As Irina comes of age within a subculture of human mutation, she and her friends hunt a group of corporate eco-saboteurs. They discover a singular ancient evil that wants nothing more than to wipe out all life and remake our planet. As Irina pieces together visions of the future, she must figure out a way to change an outcome that seems inevitable

Book 1: In Irina’s Cards

Irina Proffer leaves mundane small-town life behind when she experiences visions inspired by a strange deck of tarot cards. To get answers, she travels from her northern British Columbia home to the province’s coastal capital. She quickly discovers a world of fringe genetic science and supernatural mystery.

Working for Innoviro Industries, Irina is drawn in by a powerful first love and compelling, yet dangerous questions about the nature of the company’s business. Meeting other ‘variants’ brings Irina closer and closer to the dark truth about her origins. She finds herself at the heart of two overlapping love triangles as she scrambles to escape her employer’s grip.

Before she leaves the city, Irina realizes she has merely scratched the surface of a frightening conspiracy on a global scale.

Book 2: The Compendium

Irina and her renegade variant friends are scrambling to pick up the trail of their former employer, Ivan, and his globally catastrophic scheme. After strategically sharing their story with the media, the group heads south from Vancouver to Seattle hoping to recruit more experienced – and lethal – variants to their cause.

Their attention develops a laser focus on an engineered disaster mere days ahead of them. Ivan is using what staff and resources remain of Innoviro Industries to set off a violent earthquake in San Francisco. While they fight to stop the earthquake, Irina pushes the love of her life Jonah as far away as she can, trying to keep his unstable genetic degradation in check.

Irina’s friends think they’ve seen the worst that Innoviro could bring forth by the time they reach a secret facility in the Mojave Desert. As they near the property, the group uncovers a horror none of them had ever imagined.

Book 3: Terra Nova

The end of humanity and an unrecognizable future Earth are now days away. After their first glimpse of the Terra Nova virus, Irina and her variant friends know their former employer’s plans are almost at hand. Their failed attempt to publicize Ivan and Innoviro Industries’ horrific activities has left them utterly reliant on their own wits and weapons.

After surviving a catastrophic earthquake in San Francisco and destroying a secret viral testing facility, Irina’s crew has traveled by a variant portal to London. On the other side of the world, they begin tracking when and where Terra Nova will be unleashed on the world. They know stopping Terra Nova is only the beginning of unraveling Ivan’s plans to reinvent the planet, but if they can’t stop this virus, there will be no one left to save.

Enjoy an Excerpt from In Irina’s Cards

We walked a bit farther in silence. I had assumed Jonah would find something, at least a mention of the drug, within the files at Innoviro. How could something either guarded or fresh out of the lab, be a trustworthy substance I should let them inject into my veins? Even if Ivan showed me charts and research findings, what insight could I gain from them?

Jonah and I rounded a corner. The path diverged around a ring of shrubs and a large arbutus tree. On the one side, the path jutted out to a viewpoint looking over to the Inner Harbour. On the other, a bench sat tucked into a semicircle of overgrown juniper bushes. The sun had nearly dropped behind the hills in Esquimalt, casting vivid yellow-orange light onto downtown. Bright pink clouds floated like cotton candy in the sky. If we kept going the Harbour would greet us in its gown of twinkling lights. My sunroom balcony had that view at every sunset. I turned towards the bench. I suddenly felt like I needed a break.

Jonah sat down next to me. He touched the side of my mouth and I jumped.

“Sorry; you had some ice cream …” he said sheepishly.

I wished I was the kind of girl who carried a mirror in my purse, but I knew better than to bother searching. I looked out at the ocean and the pink pieces of light floating on the water.

“You look tense.”

His arm slipped behind my back as I kept staring ahead. I turned to answer and found myself nose-to-nose with him.

About the AuthorChristine Hart is a writer of speculative fiction for youth and adults. She also runs an online metalsmithing shop, Hart Fabrications.

Christine’s backlist includes YA, NA, and MG titles. Her first collection of adult fiction, Weird Stories of Strange Women, is coming in 2026.

When not writing, she creates wearable art from recycled metals, vintage glass, and unusual gemstones. She shares her eclectic home with her husband and two children.

Hart Fabrications | Website | Bluesky | Instagram | TikTok | Amazon Author Page

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Perfect Vengeance by Tee O’Fallon – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Tee O’Fallon 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.

Trusting him could save her…or destroy her.

Robin Hood meets the Sopranos…an insanely dangerous scheme Gina Perot and her friends hatched to steal from the mob and donate the loot to a worthy cause. Successful Wall Street investment banker by day, cat burglar by night, Gina leads a double life. But she’s never forgotten how the mob and the FBI destroyed her family and ripped her life apart. Now it’s time for payback. Charity and revenge all rolled into one. Perfect. Until Gina’s scheme sends her crashing headfirst into a major FBI investigation and facing heavy-duty federal obstruction charges. And, the hottest, most frustrating man she’s ever met.

Stop stealing from the mob or else…is the order FBI Strike Force Special Agent Jack Gates gives Gina. But Jack quickly learns he can no sooner control a force of nature like Gina than he can control where a tornado sets down. Facing a court-ordered deadline, Jack needs Gina’s cat burglar skills to help him bring down a powerful Mafioso. He makes her an offer she can’t refuse: go to jail or work for him as an FBI cooperator. When the mob learns Gina’s been ripping them off, Jack is determined to keep her safe at all costs. Even if that means confessing his terrible secret and losing her forever.

 

Enjoy an Excerpt

She did not just do that. He actually had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second. When he reopened them, the view was the same. Creamy swells of the most perfect breasts peeked out of the laciest, sexiest black bra he’d ever laid eyes on.

His heart beat a little faster, and he prayed he didn’t get a colossal boner. Adding to his discomfort, that intoxicating scent of hers mingling with her natural body heat was like a warm vanilla-sugar bath. One he was on the brink of drowning in.

“What?” At her question, he snapped his eyes from her chest to her face. “I don’t have any pockets on this thing.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I see that.”

From the hallway, Kinsey snickered. Way too much amusement at his expense.

With the unsteady fingers of his good hand, he gently pressed the com kit’s power supply box against Gina’s taut abdomen. Heat from her bare skin seared his fingertips as he adjusted the box to fit into the hollow beneath her rib cage. “Hold that.” His voice sounded like someone had rubbed his vocal cords with sandpaper.

She held the box in place while he tugged her zipper up. With each tug, he had to reach inside her suit with his injured hand to keep threading the ear wire out the top of the material so it would reach to her ear. With every touch of his fingers on her soft skin, his body temp went up a degree. The same way it had yesterday when he’d gotten a good view of her shapely legs…those same legs that made him dream about dragging those incredible stockings off them with his teeth.

With a final tug, he yanked the zipper up to her neck and began hooking the earpiece around her ear. More sweat beaded on his forehead. If things got any hotter, his Glock would go off on its own. The woman didn’t seem to notice the torture she was inflicting on him. Or maybe she did, and that was part of her diabolical plan to exact revenge.

About the Author:

Tee O’Fallon is the bestselling, award-winning author of the K-9 Special Ops, Federal K-9, NYPD Blue & Gold Series, and FBI Strike Force Series. Tee spent twenty-three years as a federal agent conducting complex, long- and short-term criminal investigations, including undercover operations, across many agencies at the federal level, and four years conducting multi-state investigations as a police investigator. It felt only natural to combine her hands-on experience in the field with her love of romantic suspense. Tee has lived in New York State most of her life with a five-year stop in Colorado. When not writing, Tee enjoys cooking, gardening, chocolate, lychee martinis, and all creatures canine.

 

Website | Facebook | Facebook Group | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub Author Page | Amazon Author Page | Goodreads | TikTok
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Wolf of the Nordic Sea by Jennifer Ivy Walker


Wolf of the Nordic Sea by Jennifer Ivy Walker
Genre: Historical Fiction, Paranormal Romance
Rated: 4 stars
Review by Rose

Named after the Norse God of the Sea, Njörd grew up sailing, swimming, and fishing the fjords of Norway. Endowed with extraordinary senses, speed, and strength, he became known as Wolf of the Nordic Seas, leading lucrative Viking raids from the Baltic shores to the Black and Caspian Seas. When a Viking völva foretells his future through a seidr vision, Njörd learns that his fate and his mate—the siren with the sea goddess eyes—lie on the alabaster coast of Normandy in the distant Land of the White Chalk Cliffs.

Elfi Thorfinnsdóttir is a skilled shieldmaiden who seeks vengeance against the ruthless Frankish count who killed her brother and abducted her father in an attempt to seize her clifftop castle. But rather that submit to the count’s relentless demand for her hand in marriage, Elfi allies with Richard the Fearless—the Viking Duke of Normandy— and the Danish Jarl of Ribe known as the Wolf of the Nordic Seas.

As Elfi and Njörd discover startling secrets about their respective pasts, they find that the three Norns have entwined the threads of their fates not just as political allies, but as mates destined to fulfill a divine prophecy.

Wolf of the Nordic Seas— book 2 of the Valiant Vikings series set in tenth century Normandy— is a sizzling, scintillating blend of historical fiction, Norse mythology, paranormal fantasy, and steamy Viking romance!

This is the second book of Jennifer Ivy Walker’s Valiant Vikings series but can completely stand on its own. The characters in the first book make an appearance but this is very much Njörd and Elfi’s story.

I really enjoyed the first book (you can see that review here,) but I think I enjoy this one even more! I especially loved the addition of sjóvættir and Úlfhéðnar, akin to the mermaids and werewolves. The similarities and the differences were quite enjoyable.

This book, however, does leave us with a bit of a cliffhanger as Elvi and Njörd’s story does not come to a complete resolution, but don’t let that put you off. The third book of the series should be out soon… and I can’t wait, because it features one of my favorite couples from book one. I’m so excited!!

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