Undisciplined Catalyst by Gail Koger – Spotlight and Giveaway

January 15, 2026 By 2 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Gail Koger will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

I was sixteen when I found out not only am I an alien hybrid, but monsters called the Tai-Kok were getting ready to invade our world. Guess who gets to stop them? Me! How?

My uncle, the mad scientist, created a machine called the portal that instantaneously sends a test subject from one location to another by converting them into energy. His idea is to port me onto a Tai-Kok ship. All I have to do is leave a bomb, hit the retrieval button on my spiffy traveler’s belt and poof! I’m back on Earth before the Tai-Kok ship goes kaboom. Sounds simple, right?

Wrong. Uncle Ben doesn’t have a clue where I’ll actually appear on the ship. It could be the engine room, the crew quarters, or even the bridge. It’s like playing Russian roulette. The Tai-Kok don’t like surprises or uninvited guests.

To make things even more fun, I have an alien battle commander stuck in my head and I’m related to a powerful Coletti warlord. Yippee. The chances of me living to see eighteen aren’t good.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Give ‘em hell.” A wild look in his eyes, Uncle Ben tapped on the console.

The circles of light surrounded me, but this time it felt like a zillion fire ants were crawling over my body. Holy hell! Something had gone wrong! I appeared in midair and dropped like a rock. Smack! I slammed into someone, and my Glock went flying.

My eyes bugged. I was on the bridge of a futuristic warship, and the viewscreen showed one hell of a space battle going on. To make things even more fun, I was lying across the lap of a huge, muscle-bound male wearing black battle armor. Since he was sitting in the captain’s chair, I was assuming he was the boss.

A very angry-looking boss. I blinked. Holy cow was he good-looking, if you were into the whole merciless predator thing. Huh? The red chains woven into his black warrior’s braids matched the communication device on his left wrist. Who knew aliens accessorized and why did I care? I took a deep breath trying to control the panic streaking through me.

A low growl rumbled in his chest.

One look into his disturbingly hostile amber eyes and I knew I was in big trouble. I reached for my retrieval button.

His arms clamped around me painfully, and he spat a bunch of gobbledygook.

“Sorry, I don’t speak that language,” I replied mentally. Somehow, I knew he was psychic.

A harsh voice sounded in my head, “How did you get through our shields.”

“Dunno. My uncle is the scientific genius, not me. I’m just the delivery girl.”

“What do you deliver?”

Did I look stupid? The minute I told him bombs; he’d kill me. I pasted a friendly smile on my face. “Stuff. I’m Lexi and you are?”

“Battle Commander Kaelen. I serve Zarek the Coletti Overlord.”

About the Author: I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department and to keep from going totally bonkers – I mean people have no idea what a real emergency is. Take this for example: I answered, “9-1-1 emergency, what’s your emergency?” And this hysterical woman yelled, “My bird is in a tree.” Sometimes I really couldn’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am but we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… What about my husband? He’s up there, too.” See what I had to deal with? To keep from hitting myself repeatedly in the head with my phone I took up writing.

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Where Do Ideas Come From? by Margaret Izard – Guest Blog and Giveaway

January 12, 2026 By 2 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Margaret Izard will be awarding a Stone of Faith Book Swag box (a $100 value) to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Where do ideas come from?

Writers are often asked: Where do your ideas come from? For me, the answer is everywhere—but it always starts with a spark that refuses to let me go.

Sometimes that spark is history. While reading about Scotland, I learned how the Coronation Stone—the Stone of Destiny—once traveled from the sacred Isle of Iona through Dunstaffnage Castle, the seat of the MacDougall clan. For those who don’t know, the coronation stone is what the king/queen of England sits on when crowned. That single thread of fact rooted itself in my imagination. I asked myself: What if that stone was magical? And what if there were many stones hidden across time, each with its own power and legacy? That was the moment the Stones of Iona series was born.

From there, mythology layered itself over history. Tales of selkies, sirens, firebirds, and cursed dragon shifters gave me characters who could inhabit these magical stones’ world. For Stone of Faith, the ocean itself became the stage. Because the stone had been lost at sea in Stone of Lust, I turned to legends of Lorelei and selkie folklore for inspiration. The Kópakonan statue in the Faroe Islands—depicting a selkie shedding her seal skin—captured the essence of a woman caught between two worlds, and it became the visual spark for Lorelei’s character.

Ideas also come when I least expect them—a song lyric, a castle ruin, a piece of art. Sometimes even being “stuck” sends me back into research, where a single artifact or legend offers the key to the next scene.
So where do ideas come from? From the places where history and myth overlap, where real people once lived and loved, and where imagination asks what if. My stories grow in that space—where love, sacrifice, and magic can endure across generations.

The heart’s most extraordinary battle is the one fought for love.

Haunted by a family legacy that threads magic through the ages, Captain Ewan MacDougall and his ghostly crew sail between worlds—freeing enslaved people. A worthy goal, yet he longs for what eludes him—true love. When he crosses paths with a legendary siren of the sea, bound to a cruel, power-hungry madman, Ewan finds the woman destined to claim his heart.

Trapped and forced to use her voice to lure ships into the clutches of evil, the spark in Ewan’s eyes awakens hope in Lorelei’s soul—a chance to break free and protect her Fae family. Yet, the wicked monster holding her captive will stop at nothing to kill the human who touches and loves her as no one has ever done before.

Will the fated connection they share break the chains of dark magic or claim two more victims in a quest to find the Stone of Faith?

Enjoy an Excerpt

The cannons drowned out Low’s response as Ewan spied the woman again, standing on the bow alone—the same as she had every time he’d robbed Low. No one else seemed to see her, and the battle raged on without hitting her her once.

As the wind tossed her bright red hair, the mane spread around her head. That scent—fresh seaweed and sun-warmed air—washed over him, just as it did every time he saw her. Her cream-colored skin glowed. When their eyes connected, a blush rose on her cheeks. She possessed Fae eyes, a brilliant white-blue that shone on their own. A siren she was, a woman from his dreams. Someone, no one else saw but Ewan. She took his breath away each time, touching his soul and making his heart beat harder. Butterflies erupted in his belly.

He whispered, “Tha thu bòidheach.” You’re beautiful.

Doug shifted in front of him, breaking the spell. The sounds of the battle rushed back like a freight train.

His friend yelled, “Ewan, ye must shift us before the ship breaks up! We’ve taken the plunder and already freed the slaves. It’s time for Blackbeard’s ghost to disappear.”

Cannon fire broke apart pieces of his prized ship. Doug was right. It was past time to disappear.
Ewan gathered energy, concentrating on the Chapel in the Woods at Dunstaffnage Castle in the future. He thrust his hand out, opening the portal, and sent a ball of energy through. He called the ship, and all within forward in time.

The world swirled, and the ship tilted as Doug’s cheer rang in Ewan’s ears, drowning out all sound when the vessel flew through space and time, popping out of the chapel door and landing in the loch beyond Dunstaffnage Caste, rocking a bit from the force. He and Doug tumbled on the chapel floor, coming to rest, lying on their backs. The crew Ewan knew faded—spirits brought back to serve him who dissipated with his spell. Ewan lay there for a moment, allowing his body and mind to rest. Doug did too, their breaths echoing in the empty nave.

Boot steps sounded, and before Ewan could rise, his da’s angry face appeared over him, upside down. “About damn time ye returned! I’ve waited half a day for ye to get yer pirate ass home!”
His da strode away, calling out when he neared the chapel door, “Both ye sorry mongrels get yer asses into the study! And, Ewan, make that scraggly beard disappear!”

Ewan sat up, waving at his chin, the long hair fading as Doug stood. “Mr. Mac, it’s just a bit of fun, that’s all!”

Colin Roderick MacDougall stopped, straightened his back, and turned slowly.

His angry countenance was one Ewan rarely witnessed. “Just a bit of fun, Douglas MacArthur? Just a bit of fun?”

His da fisted his hands. “Yer pirate games have gone too far!” He slashed his hand to the side. “The study, now!” The last he bellowed, echoing beyond the chapel.

Ewan stood, knowing his da’s wrath did not easily rise to the surface. Even when disciplining his children, except when… “Wait, Da, what has happened?” He and his sister Evie had gotten away with so much as kids and on into adulthood. Most of the time, his da had grunted while applauding their Fae skills. But when a Fae Fable showed and a magic Iona stone needing hunting for the Fae…
His sire pointed a finger at him. “A Fae fable has appeared. That’s what’s happened!” He strode to Ewan and aimed the finger, hitting Ewan’s broad chest, jabbing when he yelled, “The Stone of Faith!”

Ewan blinked. The Stone of Faith fable had two stories they knew of—both including the Stone of Lust.

Ewan tilted his head. “Ainslie’s story or the other one of the island and treasure?”

His da folded his arms, then growled his answer. “The island of treasure.” He leaned forward till their noses nearly touched. “And the tale is not about yer ma. The fable’s one of its own, and the damn thing has an ending!” He turned and strode out of the chapel.

Ewan blinked. “The Stone of Faith has a fable?”

About the Author: Margaret Izard is a multi-award-winning author of historical fantasy and paranormal romance novels. She spent her early years through college to adulthood dedicated to dance, theater, and performing. Over the years, she developed a love for great storytelling in different mediums. She does not waste a good story, be it movement, the spoken, or the written word. She discovered historical romance novels in middle school, which combined her passion for romance, drama, and fantasy. She writes exciting plot lines, steamy love scenes and always falls for a strong male with a soft heart. She lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband and adult triplets and loves to hear from readers.

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The Stone of Doubt Book Swag Box

Inside the box
Teardrop Lab Sapphire Necklace
Signed copy of the book.
Large Stone of Doubt book bag
Small Stone of Doubt book bag
Insulated wine glass with Stone of Doubt logo
Dublin shot glass with etched Stone of Doubt logo
Stone of Doubt bookmark
Stone of Doubt recipe card
Wild Rose Press (publisher) 2025 calendar (While supplies last)

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Winter Blogfest: Jall Barret

December 26, 2025 By 5 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win an ePub copy of Death in Transit and New Names, Old Crimes. 

Winter Nostalgia 

Every year growing up, my siblings and I would get a big gift package from my Grandma Sue. There were candies, cookies, books, and candy storybooks. I confirmed candy storybooks existed and still exist today. The part I remember the most were the books.

The passing of the holiday meant it was time to break open the books. They were a mix of Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and classic novels from Twain, the Brontë sisters, Louisa May Alcott, Robert Louis Stevenson, and many others. Many of those were adventure stories of in a way. Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew were mysteries that felt like an extension of Scooby Doo. Both series predated Scooby Do. Just like the Mystery Inc. folks, the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew had a degree of autonomy and were out to solve mysteries generally caused by adults. They were on adventures. Tom Sawyer got up to adventures that were largely precipitated by his own pranks and schemes.

I wonder how those stories would read to me today, in my 40s. I’ve revisited a lot of movies and TV shows in the last year that I was fond of as a child. Looking back at those, I still feel a sense of identification with the kid characters but I also see the adult perspective.

I haven’t gone back to re-read the adventure stories of my youth. Some are likely timeless. Others would have issues that would be hard for me to ignore in 2025. Researching this piece, I found that the versions of the Nancy Drew novels I read had likely already been updated for a more modern audience by the time I read them.

Not every story needs to be revisited. Maybe it’s the accidental tradition that needs to be revisited.

As the holidays wind up, why not sit down with a new adventure story?

Five strangers searching for new lives experience an adventure beset by mechanical issues, space pirates, a poorly trained police force, and a business opportunity!

I write science fiction, fantasy, bizarro, and other genres. I’m a cat person. By which I mean “I like cats.” But I could be a person who is also a cat. Who knows?

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Winter Blogfest: Bruce Buchanan

December 24, 2025 By 9 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a free digital copy of my NA swords & sorcery fantasy novel The Blacksmith’s Boy. 

Takeout for the Buchanans

Enjoying a meal of Chinese food on Christmas Eve is a tradition hardly unique to the Buchanans. Jewish families in New York City have long seen the wisdom in a December 24th feast of General Tso’s chicken, beef with broccoli, and egg rolls with duck sauce. So it may seem strange that a crew of small-town North Carolina Methodists would dial for take-out as we awaited Santa’s arrival. But we do.

It started my freshman year of college. My parents had recently moved to Asheville, and between their new jobs, unfamiliar house, and empty nester status, they were a bit overwhelmed. I was home for Winter Break and that Christmas Eve, my Dad suggested, “Why don’t we just go out for Chinese?”

I was all for it, and to my surprise, so was Mom. She grew up in a house that valued home-cooked Southern dishes at the holidays, and plus, her frugality is the stuff of legend. Why eat out when you can make a meal at home for less money?

But she agreed to an outing at the Dragon Palace this Christmas Eve. The three of us had such a nice time that we went back the following year. And the year after, etc.

Over time, the center of our celebrations shifted to my home in Greensboro. My son—their only grandchild—proved a sufficient draw to bring them down Interstate 40 for the holidays. In lieu of going out on Christmas Eve, we found a tasty Chinese take-out spot. My wife, realizing how important this tradition was to me and being a fan of hot and spicy beef herself, gladly joined in the celebration. Each year, Dad and I would drive to secure those white-and-red cardboard cartons, whose aromas tempted us on the short return trip.

A photo from Christmas Eve 2019 is stored on my phone. Parkinson’s had ravaged Dad’s mobility and taken a fair amount of his cognitive abilities. But his love for his then-thirteen-year-old grandson shines through in that picture, moments before we dig into our annual Chinese food feast.

This December 24, my son will be home from college, and Mom will be visiting for the holidays. We’ll order out from our familiar spot, the Golden China in Greensboro. The four of us will enjoy good food and even better memories. It’ll be a fine Christmas Eve. But at some point, my eyes and mind will flicker to the empty seat and the wonderful father who started this family tradition.

 

Bok Omat thought his place in the Kingdom of Imarina was settled. The 19-year-old served as his rural community’s healer and helped in his family’s blacksmith’s shop. It was an unremarkable life in Imarina’s peasant class, but as long as his parents, sister, and young nephew were safe, a fine one under the protection of the Inishari royal family.

But when an ancient spell threatens Bok’s family and the safety of the entire kingdom, he answers an unlikely summons from Princess Isabella to join her in protecting all they cherish. Despite their vastly different pasts, Bok and Isabella become close friends as they race to counter this deadly incantation and the mysterious mastermind behind it.

Bok learns secrets that force him to reconsider all he has ever known about the world and his place in it. But will this knowledge come at the price of his life, Imarina’s freedom, or even his burgeoning friendship with Isabella?

Bruce Buchanan is the author of the new adult fantasy novel, THE BLACKSMITH’S BOY (2025, Wild Ink Publishing). His next two novels, both set for 2026, are signed with Wild Ink as well. He also is the author of a non-fiction book that recently was acquired by Bloomsbury Publishing. Beyond the keyboard, Bruce lives in Greensboro, N.C., with his wife, Amy Joyner Buchanan (the author of five published non-fiction books) and their college student son, Jackson

 

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First Descent by Mike Pace – Spotlight

December 11, 2025 By Leave a Comment

There’s a momentum in First Descent by Mike Pace that feels shaped by both storm and shadow. As the story crosses from the Arctic’s icy silence into a modern landscape filled with hidden agendas, the hints of something older—something bound to winter—begin to surface. The closer these two worlds draw, the sharper the danger becomes.
Nick Landowski has spent his adult life distancing himself from the legend that consumed his father, an Arctic explorer obsessed with a mythical cave of red diamonds. But after a workplace accident shatters the odd geode his father left him and reveals a hidden key, the boundary between skepticism and belief dissolves. Nick is thrust into a perilous journey that spans a contemporary world driven by high-stakes competition over the Coca-Cola formula and an eleventh-century realm defined by time-bending winter magic. Both worlds harbor adversaries who understand the key’s significance far better than he does. As Nick follows the trail left by his father’s final expedition, he uncovers a mythic power intertwined with a closely guarded corporate secret—one whose awakening threatens the essence of Christmas. To survive, he must unravel the truth behind Virgil’s quest and decide whether unlocking the legend will save the season or doom it.

Legends aren’t made—they’re unlocked.

Eighteen years ago, eccentric geologist Virgil Landowski vanished during an ill-fated Arctic expedition searching for a mythical cave said to hold red diamonds. All he left behind was a strange geode and a son who grew up believing his father’s quest was madness.

Now, Nick Landowski is content to live his life as a blue-collar mine foreman—until an accident cracks open his father’s geode and reveals a hidden key. That discovery pulls him into a harrowing journey spanning both modern and ancient worlds, where enemies close in at every turn.

Along the way, Nick uncovers a link connecting the secret Coke formula to powers older than winter itself— and a revelation that could threaten the survival of Christmas.

Perfect for fans of James Rollins, Lincoln Child, and R.A. Salvatore, The First Descent is a high-stakes contemporary fantasy adventure where heists, hidden legends, and holiday myths collide.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Seventy minutes later, his lungs about to burst, Virgil clawed his way to the top of a rocky ridge and found himself standing on the edge of a clearing. The impossible sun had long since disappeared. No moon or stars; the sky hovered tight overhead like a suffocating black blanket. He glanced again at his watch. Deadline approaching fast. He needed to reach the center of the clearing quickly.

Expecting the level terrain to ease his journey, he set out. Almost immediately he sank thigh-deep into the powdery snow and struggled to move. Before departing from Nevada he’d considered bringing snowshoes, but his boots had been too bulky to fit into the bindings. Again, the trade-off had been warmth over nimbleness, and he’d chosen warmth. In retrospect, given that his lack of cleats had almost cost him his life and now without snowshoes the whole purpose of his mission could dissolve because he would be delayed crossing the clearing, a big mistake.

He’d had some experience traveling across rugged terrain in Siberia for the company, but that had been a well-provisioned expedition. Here, he’d had to depart quickly with no time for planning or training in order to reach his destination on the precise date and at the exact time. And, according to the rules, he had to complete his journey alone. Rules? Set by whom? The guide who’d somehow convinced me he was much more than a guide? Too late for second thoughts. Too late to turn back. Either the guide’s fantastic story was true, or in a matter of minutes Professor Virgil Landowski, who was supposed to be one of the smartest geologists in the world, was going to die a complete fool.

He felt the snow harden. If he didn’t move he’d be locked inside an icy tomb. So close now, he couldn’t give up. Drawing on a last reserve of energy he didn’t know he possessed, he bent over and plowed ahead, wading through what now felt like thigh-high wet cement.

Finally, he stumbled to the center of the plain and stopped, gasping, his lungs screaming for oxygen. 23:59—I made it with a minute to spare! He slowly turned full circle.

Nothing.

The GPS coordinates were spot on. The timing was perfect . . .

Where is it?

Like a blindfold had been removed, his stupidity, his foolishness, his bull-headed pride were revealed to him. All that time, all that energy, wasted. His crowning achievement, the gift he’d wanted desperately for his son—for the world—was all a cruel hoax. The weight of disappointment crushed his body. His shoulders sagged. He staggered and swayed like a drunk trying to remain upright, fighting the wind’s attempt to tumble him into a white grave.

How could I have believed him? I was such a—

The wind stopped.

Completely.

Like someone had flicked a switch.

About the Author: Thriller author Mike Pace has spent his entire life weaving stories across an extraordinary range of experiences. One of his earliest creative memories is helping write his fourth-grade Christmas play in Pittsburgh, a spark that carried him to the University of Illinois on an art scholarship, where he earned a BFA. He later taught elementary school in Washington, D.C.’s inner city, filling his classroom with imagination games and daily storytelling as “Mr. Paste.” While teaching by day, he attended Georgetown Law at night and went on to serve on the editorial board of the Georgetown Law Journal, clerk for a federal judge, and prosecute major felony cases—including murder—as an Assistant United States Attorney for the District of Columbia. After serving as general counsel for a national environmental services company, Mike shifted his focus to his first love: creative writing. He has written for stage and screen, earning praise from The Washington Post, and is an active member of the International Thriller Writers and the Maryland Writers Association. Outside of writing, he enjoys painting, skiing, golf, the Baltimore Ravens, and learning new skills such as the soprano saxophone.

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Cloud Hands by Nancy J. Nelson – Spotlight

December 3, 2025 By Leave a Comment

Cloud Hands: The Disclosure Files – Book One begins with the ordinary rhythms of a summer caretaker role before revealing a much larger network of concealed operations. Nancy J. Nelson’s story gradually expands from household routines to global implications involving secrecy, power, and change.

Version 1.0.0

Vicki Heywood intends to find stability after a difficult loss, taking on the task of supervising two teenagers for the season. However, small inconsistencies accumulate into signs of something deeper at play. She becomes aware of hidden medical advancements, unpublicized encounters, and technologies protected by the Partnership—an organization with influence surpassing traditional governance. As the teens bring their own observations forward, the three of them begin uncovering links that place them at risk. What unfolds is a struggle shaped not only by political forces but also by questions about truth, potential, and humanity’s capacity for transformation. Through these events, the narrative highlights how awakening often begins through ordinary circumstances that lead to extraordinary revelations.

Enjoy an Excerpt

There was a little cluster of forget-me-nots arranged in a vase on the table in front of Vicki. They had been Beth’s favorite flowers. Small and vibrant, so cute they made you smile. Just like Beth herself.

The waitress put a cup of coffee and a pastry before her, and the same in front of the man seated across the table. Kurt Martinsson—she had called him Professor Martinsson when he taught her senior business seminar a decade earlier—added some sugar to his cup before he took a sip. Well-built, dark hair with a touch of gray at his temples. He had aged well. His bespoke sports jacket, manicured nails, and expensive haircut suggested he was also doing well.

“It was kind of you to look me up, Professor Martinsson, especially after all this time. To be honest, I haven’t been getting out much.” She hadn’t been getting out at all. What was the point? Their parents had died in a car accident several years back, and now Beth was gone too. Per her request, there had been a closed casket; the chemo had ravaged her body and taken all her hair. There was no amount of makeup, no wig good enough, that could have fixed that.

“I heard about your sister, Vicki; I’m so sorry. I understand you left your position at the Department of State to look after her.”

Beth had argued against that. “I’m young and strong; I’ll be able to beat this—there’s no reason for you to leave the job you worked so hard to get. Mom and Dad were so proud that you became a diplomat—they wouldn’t have wanted you to give that up.” She had been wrong about being able to beat the cancer, but right that their parents had been proud. They would have been just as proud to see their youngest open up her own flower shop in a prime location in downtown Los Angeles.

About the Author: Nancy J. Nelson is an author known for compelling narratives that explore mind-expanding questions about humanity’s next steps. Her most recent book, Cloud Hands: The Disclosure Files – Book One, has earned acclaim among readers drawn to thoughtful, visionary science fiction. Nelson comes into writing after 25 years as a diplomat with the U.S. Department of State and now lives in Los Angeles. Learn more through her website.

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Hippie Mermaid by Joanne Guidoccio – Spotlight and Giveaway

November 10, 2025 By 3 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Joanne Guidoccio will be awarding a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

From sea to shore, betrayal follows her wherever she goes.

On Christmas Eve, psychic Kendra Adams reveals the secret she’s hidden for decades—she was once Rosina, a mermaid torn between sea and shore. Betrayed in her ocean kingdom and desperate to escape banishment, she persuades a politician to smuggle her into the human world. But freedom on land comes at a cost, as she soon finds herself ensnared in another web, this one spun by the politician’s power-hungry sister.

Read an Excerpt

The human laughter startled me. It sounded so foreign, unlike anything I had ever heard before. I followed the sounds and turned my gaze toward four large humans approaching us. Up close, they were frightening, almost menacing, in their dark garments. I took note of their varying appearances. Two had light brown hair and blue eyes, while the other pair sported dark hair and dark eyes. Intent on observing the darker pair, I didn’t notice the other two men eyeing me.

“Hippie mermaid!” yelled one of the men with light-colored features.

All the men glanced in my direction. I felt myself reddening as I met their liquid eyes and wide smiles. There was interest there, and some other emotion or feeling I had never seen before. For a split second, I was flattered by their attention. And then I recalled what Mama had said. I must let Annabella choose first.

Annabella did not give me a chance to react. She beckoned to the man who had spoken, and he reluctantly turned away from me. Rosetta claimed the other light-haired man, and Lisetta chose one of the dark-haired men. I watched as they moved to separate rocks along the shore.

The remaining man approached. As his features came into closer focus, I realized he was older than the others. Not by much, but there were white hairs sprinkled in the darkness, and his face crinkled as he smiled. “I guess I won this mermaid lottery.”

My eyes widened in surprise.

He laughed and shook his head. “You could have had any of us. You didn’t have to end up with me.”

“But I’m not a Bella or an Etta. I’m an Ina.” There was no point in hiding my rank. I had never been embarrassed by it, and after hearing about Aunt Lina’s punishment, I knew my place.

“Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the prettiest of the group. You just don’t know it yet.”

About the Author:

Joanne Guidoccio enjoyed a rewarding career teaching mathematics, business, and co-operative education courses before retiring to pursue writing. A member of Crime Writers of Canada, Sisters in Crime, and the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, she writes paranormal romances, cozy mysteries, and inspirational stories from her home base of Guelph, Ontario.

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Extraterrestrial Noir by Rich Leder – Q&A and Giveaway

November 3, 2025 By 2 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What are four things you can’t live without?

Me-time. Mornings belong to me. I do what I want at the pace I’m feeling that particular day. I often get up early but not always. So what? It’s my morning. Belongs to me. Don’t mess with my morning. I spend a lot of the morning thinking about my work. But I don’t usually write anything. I think about what I wrote and what I want to write and how I want to write it.

Work-time. I write in the afternoon. I’ve been thinking about it all morning, so now I’m ready to transport myself into the world I’ve created and spend four or five hours with the people living the adventure I’ve set for them.

Love-time. I’ve been married forty years. My wife and I are best friends. We have three kids (adults now) and get along just great with all of them. And we have close friends. I need to be connected—heart to heart—with these people every day. Not all of them all day every day. But some of them for some of the day every day.

Escape-time. Get me out of here, man. Take me somewhere enthralling. I read like crazy. It’s a drug. And I’m addicted to it. Reading, that is. But after so many decades of filmmaking, I’m also addicted to television and movies. Luckily, my wife is too. So we watch a little bit every day. Films, limited series, standup comedy. There always some show to carry me away. And then I’m ready to do it all over again.

What is your favorite television show?

Let’s answer this one broadly, shall we? I love science fiction and most all things sci-fi. I love mysteries and crime and thrillers and action. I love comedy, often dark, often silly, often obscene-ish. I don’t usually love romantic comedy, but sometimes I do. I love documentaries that don’t soft-shoe the material. I don’t watch news because no one spends more than 60 seconds on an issue that demands two hours. Not no one, actually. “Last Week Tonight with John Oliver” is news the way I like to watch it.

If you could be any character, from any literary work, who would you choose to be? Why?

Broadly again, please. I want to be in space, traveling enormous distances, impossible distances, in the blink of an eye. The far-far future suits me. So Bradbury, Asimov, Heinlein, Clarke, Wells, Herbert (especially Herbert) … just go ahead and put me in one of their books. I’ll go.

What have you got coming soon for us to look out for?

What I’ve got now is “Extraterrestrial Noir.” My next book is “Money Dog.” Almost done.

What books or authors have most influenced your own writing?

Tom Robbins. Kurt Vonnegut. Chuck Pahalniuk. Phillip Roth. Carl Hiaasen. Richard Ford. Maybe even in that order. Good place to start, anyway.

A PSYCHO-CRIMINAL EXTRATERRESTRIAL ON A SUBURBAN CUL-DE-SAC

A FAMILY ON THE BRINK OF ALL-ENCOMPASSING INSOLVENCY

A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD UBER-GENIUS DAUGHTER IN THE LINE OF FIRE

CAN SHE SAVE THE FAMILY, NOT TO MENTION THE PLANET?

An extraterrestrial crashes into a suburban cul-de-sac Colonial, absorbs every binary bit of information ever chronicled in all of human history, rearranges its molecules and presents itself as a couple of late and legendary film noir superstars, then immediately displays an appetite for debauchery, depravity, decadence, and destruction, seducing the family into its psychopathic criminal orbit with irresistible Hollywood panache, alluring sexual charisma, and inconceivable intergalactic powers.…all in the name of saving the family from their emotional, marital, and financial ruin.

But uber-genius-daughter Mike Devine figures out fast that the extraterrestrial’s principal plan is to employ its unfathomable interplanetary muscle and implode the planet. Which leaves the fate of her family, not to mention the world, in her twelve-year-old hands.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“That’s almost six trillion miles per year—a single light-year,” Mike said.

“So, if they travel at light speed, they should be here pretty soon,” Maggie said.

“Better make extra pancakes,” Connie said.

“That’s lame, Dad,” Danny said.

“It’s witty, son,” Connie said. “You’ll understand when you get older.”

“I hope not,” Danny said.

“Not too soon,” Mike said. “The distance from Earth to the edge of the universe in any direction takes forty-six point five gigalight-years.”

“How many light years in a gigalight-year?” Connie said.

“A billion,” Mike said.

“What does that mean in Earth years?” Maggie said.

“Voyager 1, our most distant space probe, traveled fourteen light-hours, not even one light-day, and that took thirty Earth years. So, it would take about twenty-two thousand Earth years to travel the same distance light travels in one light-year. About one quadrillion and one hundred two trillion Earth years to reach the edge of the universe.”

If that’s a question on the genius test, I wonder which part of the light-speed equation Mike will only get ninety-two percent right, Maggie thought.

“What if they were coming from the closest galaxy?” Maggie said.

“Andromeda,” Mike said. “Twenty-five hundred Earth years.”

“Long time,” Maggie said, and she turned off her flashlight.

“The meteors should have been here by now,” Connie said.

“I saw something up there,” Maggie said.

But something up there had seen her and made a sharp turn toward Earth.

About the Author Rich Leder has been a working writer for more than three decades. His credits include eight novels for Laugh Riot Press and 19 produced movies—television films for CBS, Lifetime, and Hallmark and feature films for Lionsgate, Paramount Pictures, Tri-Star Pictures, Longridge Productions, and Left Bank Films.

He’s been the lead singer in a Detroit rock band, a restaurateur, a Little League coach, an indie film director, a literacy tutor, a magazine editor, a screenwriting coach, a wedding consultant (it’s true), a PTA board member, a HOA president, a commercial real estate agent, and a visiting artist for the UNCW Film Studies Department, all of which, it turns out, was grist for the mill.

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The Making of a Fantasy Writer by Colin Sephton – Guest Blog and Giveaway

November 3, 2025 By 1 Comment

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Colin Sephton 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 Making of a Fantasy Writer
I never really set out to become a writer, it happened almost by accident, or perhaps more accurately, as a natural extension of another passion. My creative journey began with artwork. From a young age, I loved drawing and painting, and I was especially drawn to fantasy art. At first, I honed my craft by sketching well-known superheroes and established characters created by others. That practice taught me technique and discipline, but after a while I began to feel constrained. I wanted to breathe life into my own creations. That desire for originality slowly grew, and eventually many of the characters that now populate my novels were first born decades ago in the pages of my sketchpads. Over time, I realised that having visual references of these figures gave me an advantage. It allowed me to describe them in greater detail on the page. While not every character I write has an artistic origin, a great many do.

My inspiration for storytelling goes beyond characters, though. I’ve always been fascinated by certain subjects: fantasy, the mysteries of the cosmos, the latest scientific theories, questions of consciousness, and the allure of ancient knowledge and lost civilizations. These passions shape everything I write. In many ways, my novels are the result of blending all these threads into a single creative tapestry. This fascination began in childhood. With my very first library card in hand, I would spend long summer days immersed in books, researching whatever captured my curiosity and creating little projects of my own. That early hunger for knowledge never left me, it simply evolved into stories.

Ignatius and Indigo find themselves struggling mentally to come to terms with the complex nature of the cosmos and their newfound supernatural powers obtained through their prior encounters with gods and demons. In their quest for another relic from the Creation, they are aided by the secretive thirteenth Chapter of the Union Jacks. In search of the secret of the Flaming Celestial Pearl, they must travel to Tibet in the great airship, HM Spirit of the Empire.

Pursued by fanatical knights sworn to protect the relic, they must reluctantly call upon the Charon, the seven merciless demons from the underworld to assist them. Piecing together the map that will lead them to a fabled city hidden deep within the Himalayas, they must defend themselves from air pirates, a previous foe from Oxford, mountain beasts and elementals.

Discovering the correct path through the mountains, Indigo realises her soul may never be the same again. Regardless, they enter the Great Void where using the Sword of Wisdom, they discover the truth about the cosmos.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The desk was large, and made from burr walnut, inlaid with green leather, decorated around the edge in gold. Its golden glow illuminated the office. The room was floored with black and white tiles and all four walls were lined with rich oak panelling, with the same crest carved into one of the panels. Behind the desk hung a large oil painting, a dark portrait of a brooding figure. The desk was otherwise uncluttered, just a brass inkstand and a green banker’s lamp. The only ornamentation was a bronze of a lion like those seen in Trafalgar Square.

“Good morning, Mr Lawrence,” said an aide as he entered the office with a silver tray of tea. Earl Grey, his preferred choice. Hot, no milk.

“The latest reports, sir,” the aide gestured with his head at the stack of Manilla folders. “Some unusual goings on in Oxford,” he said as he raised an eyebrow. The thin weaselly man had been with the Union some twenty years and throughout all that time had spent most of it behind a desk.

Lawrence didn’t rise to his prompting and replied simply, “Very well, Jenkins, I will let you know!”

Sifting through the reports, Lawrence took on a serious brow, mulling over the potential impact on the Empire of each report. The first report told of dangerous shamanic practices in China, disrupting the activities of the East India Company. He picked up the next report and after reading it, then reading it again, his face turned red, his brow furrowing. Significant disturbances in Oxford. His large fist slammed down in a rage onto the green leather, knocking his ink pot over. A book fell off the shelf behind him as he filled his lungs and bellowed, “Jenkins, get me Isambard Ignatius. NOW!”

About the Author Colin was born in Coventry and worked in the automotive industry for over twenty years before becoming an Engineering teacher. Obtaining his first library card at the age of thirteen, he became an avid reader of Fantasy and the mysteries of the Universe. He has an inbuilt curiosity for lost knowledge and ancient texts that may help to unlock the secrets of consciousness and the universe. Living in Oxford for many years, he has now moved back to his home county of Warwickshire where he enjoys creating and working with his wife on their garden in which he writes and entertains their two grandsons. He has always been an artist and writer and is inspired by the worlds created by Robert E Howard and Michael Moorcock, with the artwork of Frank Frazetta.

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Interview with Charity Tahmaseb and giveaway

October 29, 2025 By 19 Comments

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Charity Tahmaseb who is visiting with us today to celebrate the recent release of her newest book THE PANSY PARADOX, the first book in her SFF The Chronicles of King’s End series. Charity will be awarding a $25 bookstore gift card to a randomly drawn commenter on today’s post. EDITED TO ADD: Congratulations to winner Deb B.

 

 

A woman with nothing to hide—except the truth—meets a man with nothing to lose—except his heart. And he’s just arrived in town to fire her.

Meet Pansy Little

Since her mother vanished, Apprentice Field Agent Pansy Little is the sole guardian of King’s End, protecting it from a supernatural force only a select few can see. The arrival of an agent from Enclave headquarters doesn’t bring relief. Instead, it means Pansy’s well-crafted charade is about to collapse.

Meet Henry Darnelle

Principal Field Agent Henry Darnelle doesn’t want to be in King’s End, but he’s been blackmailed into performing Pansy’s field agent evaluation—with explicit instructions to fail her.

Distractedly handsome and unfailingly correct, he surprises Pansy—and himself—by defying orders to fire her. Instead, his curiosity is piqued by both Pansy and King’s End.

Together, they investigate, unearthing intricate ties that bind their families. Together, they might even be falling in love.

But someone with a decades-old obsession is watching, maneuvering behind the scenes, someone won’t rest until blood is spilled.

Welcome to King’s End, where discord falls from the sky and an eccentric twenty-something patrols the streets with her pink polka-dotted umbrella. Where one misstep won’t merely bring disaster—it might spark the end of the world.

The main character, Pansy Little, lives by some explicit, if cryptic rules set down by her mother. They are:

1. Never go into the housing development after dark.
2. Never go to the silo alone.
3. Never go to the covered bridge, period.
4. If the Enclave makes an offer, remember they always require something in return.
5. Trust no one from the Enclave.
6. When someone tells you they’re not betrothed, don’t believe them.
7. The Screamers don’t fight fair; you shouldn’t, either.

During the course of the story, Pansy, along with Henry, end up breaking several of these rules. That first rule in particular has some startling and far-reaching consequences. Although rule six will continue to have repercussions throughout the series.

Charity wants to complete and publish the second book in the series, The Marigold Miracle, next year.

“I’m pretty sure I can do that. However, this is my first year of full-time fiction writing. I quit my tech job in January of this year, and I’m still finding my way when it comes to pacing myself and my publishing schedule,” she said.

Charity grew up in Mankato, Minnesota, the home of Maud Hart Lovelace, author of the Betsy-Tacy series.

“My house was on the other side of the ‘big hill’ of the series,” Charity told me. “For a time in junior high, I had a paper route where I delivered papers to Betsy’s, Tacy’s, and Tib’s house.

“When I wasn’t reading mysteries or the Chronicles of Narnia, I was most likely reading (or re-reading) the Betsy-Tacy series. In her books, Maud called Mankato Deep Valley, and you can feel her deep love of the town. “

This influenced her own work, she said, as she’s done something similar with her own fiction, using elements of places she’s lived to create her own fictional small towns.

We asked Charity, “Could you ever co-author a book with someone?”

“I actually have co-authored two books with one of my best friends, Darcy Vance. We wrote two young adult novels together, The Geek Girl’s Guide to Cheerleading and Dating on the Dork Side. (Do I need to mention they were YA novels? I feel like the titles give that away.)

“Sadly, Darcy passed away in 2018. I still miss her so deeply. The odd thing about losing Darcy is I’ve lost all desire to write young adult stories as well. Even when we wrote our own stories, we were such a big part of the other’s writing process. I still think of Darcy as my ideal reader. She loved the Coffee & Ghosts series, and I wish she could have read book four. I would also love to know what she would have made of The Pansy Paradox.

“After losing Darcy, I had to reinvent myself as a writer. But I know this: she would never want me to stop writing. So I haven’t. “

When she’s not writing, she loves reading, gardening, researching (some topics might never end up in her writing, and researching her family tree.

“I don’t do this too often because it’s such a rabbit hole that I’ll glance up and realize that I’ve been at it for eight hours straight,” she admitted.

This past year, she created a cottage garden and plans to expand that next year and create pockets of pollinator friendly, native plants in other spaces in her yard.

“What did you want to be when you grew up,” I wondered.

“A lot of authors talk about how they always wanted to write. And while I’ve always had stories in my head, I so wanted to be a girl detective when I grew up. Or rather, I wanted to be a girl detective from the moment I started reading mysteries.

“My favorite mysteries were the Trixie Belden ones. In fact, somewhere, I still have my Trixie Belden fan club membership card. I also read Nancy Drew, The Secret Seven, Encyclopedia Brown, and I wandered into the adult mystery section in the library about the time I was ten. I read a lot of Agatha Christie as well.

“I never did find a mystery I could solve. But the mystery genre has had a huge influence on my writing. Most (if not all) of my stories contain a mystery element. For my recent series, both my main characters have mysterious goings-on in their hometown. I suspect this is a form of childhood wish fulfillment on my part.”

“If you could keep a mythical/paranormal creature as a pet, what would you have?”

“I love the magical helper trope, love it. I had so much fun writing the ghosts in my Coffee & Ghosts series. Granted, some of those ghosts were helpful, and some not so much. Then, for The Pansy Paradox, I came up with the notion of sentient umbrellas. (No, don’t ask me how; I have no idea.)

“My first inclination is I’d love a magical cat. Then again, I’m not sure I’d want to be constantly judged. A dragon would be cool. Or a magical fox! I wouldn’t keep them as a pet. But as a friend in the woods outside my house? Absolutely.“

Buy THE PANSY PARADOX at Amazon.

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