AVALON MOON by Michael Amos Cody

 

AVALON MOON

by Michael Amos Cody

August 24 - September 18, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

In Avalon Moon, a local man has gone missing and then is soon found dead in a highland meadow, side-by-side with an unknown woman. When another man and woman go missing and a female deputy is found murdered, Gabriel Tanner, editor of Runion’s weekly newspaper, and Plumer Reeves, a reclusive local hawkshaw working for the niece of the first dead man, suspect a monster is hunting in their western North Carolina mountains. Two extraordinary young women, the Avalon community’s Ariel Anderson and Lonesome Mountain’s Livvy Goforth, join Tanner and Reeves to lead the attempt to discover and stop the killer.

Praise for Avalon Moon:

"With wolves across the river and murder in the high meadow, Avalon Moon knows exactly how to raise the hair on your neck. Move it to the top of your book queue."
~ BestThrillers.com

"A deliciously gothic tale stitched into a brutal murder mystery. As a serial killer stalks the mountains of North Carolina, Cody’s precise language shifts effortlessly like light through the trees – from lush gothic poetry to gritty Appalachian realism. Facing ancient gods and hungry beasts in the deep woods, the reader can’t help but dread a darker truth: evil is only ever a breath away."
~ Andrew K. Clark, author of Where Dark Things Grow

"A crime novel featuring a new entry to the list of Most Bone-Chilling Fictional Serial Killers ever committed to paper. Or to e-book. Whatever. The influence of Poe and Hawthorne, at their bone-chilling creepiest, can be felt egging on the unfolding of the story, one eerie development after another. A taut, skillfully crafted thriller."
~ Whiskey Leavins, author of Low Angle Shot

"Avalon Moon relies on vivid, inviting storytelling and precise language to lure you in, and once you’re caught in Cody’s prodigious literary talents, it’s hard to escape. . . . A book you’ll think about long after you’ve finished the story on the page."
~ Bobby Mathews, author of Magic City Blues

"The Appalachian town of Runion is threatened by a serial killer, wolves, and ghosts—literal and figurative—in Michael Amos Cody’s propulsive new novel, Avalon Moon. The tension and constant sense of danger kept me turning the pages, but the heart of the book is the large cast of believable characters. All are rendered with insight, compassion, and humor, and they continued to linger in my thoughts long after the novel’s satisfying conclusion."
~ Peter McDade, author of King Cal

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Horror, Thriller
Published by: Madville Publishing
Publication Date: May 19, 2026
Number of Pages: 340
ISBN: 9781963695670 (ISBN10: 1963695674)
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Madville Publishing

Read an excerpt:

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

One

Gabriel Tanner

“Editor of and chief contributor to a country weekly” never made my top ten list of things I wanted to be when I grew up. For the longest time, I had only one item on that list—Rock Star! I toyed with adding a second item, maybe being just a hit-making songwriter, but the songwriting I did throughout the 1980s was so closely bound up with the Rock Star! idea that I couldn’t pull the two apart. If I didn’t become the next Bruce Springsteen, which I didn’t, I was unlikely to become the next Bob McDill—ditto on the didn’t.

So, with the Rock Star! phase of my life gone grumbling into my dreams, I left Nashville in the hot gut of August 1990, retreated, tail between legs, to Runion, my hometown in the North Carolina mountains, and the following January entered Runion State University, where I double-majored in English and Journalism. I took a part-time job as student reporter and all-around grunt for Sheldon Dean’s Runion Recorder. A couple years after I graduated, Sheldon decided he was tired of writing and offered me a full-time position as editor, keeping only the title of “General Manager” for himself. I accepted.

And so it came to pass that on a cold evening in early March, on the darker side of twilight, I drove toward the Lonesome Mountain end of Genesis Road, planning to swing around the back way into Runion. On regular mornings going to work, or any other time I was in a hurry, I drove down to the French Broad end of Genesis and took the river road up a short hill and onto Main Street, but I was dreading two hours minimum of sitting in a meeting at the Madison County Cooperative Extension Office complex, housed in the recently renovated Old Mill on Mill Street, and taking notes for a regular report to appear in next week’s paper. The room would be stuffy with heat and humanity, and to be honest, I was lollygagging.

This year’s March was looking like a lion-lamb version—in like a lion, out like a lamb. We expected to wake up the next morning to some serious snow and ice courtesy of Winter Storm Ulysses. The fields on my left and the woods on my right seemed to hold their breath in anticipation.

I rolled to a stop at the T-intersection where Genesis Road dead-ends at Jewel Hill Road, with Lonesome Mountain ahead and to my left, dark against the sky. My new Honda hybrid sat quietly, and still not used to its workings, I thought it might have died but relaxed when no warning lights appeared. Even though the temperature was in the upper thirties, I opened my windows and—with no other traveler sitting at my bumper and politely honking, as our mountain folk do—sat at the intersection with my eyes closed and my skin alive to the chilly air. I heard a few of last summer’s still-tethered leaves shivering in the boughs overhead and something scurrying through the underbrush in the woods off to my right. I think I could’ve engaged the emergency brake and gone to sleep, but I opened my eyes, suddenly uneasy and unsure why.

The headlights shown across Jewel Hill Road and lit the lower part of a hillside pasture beyond. A few head of cattle midway up the slope stood at the edge of the light and grazed on pale grass.

Not one to be unnerved by a bovine presence in the twilight, I strained my senses to catch and identify what raised hairs along my forearms and around the back of my neck.

To my left, a field rolled away in successive swells toward a wooded ridge standing blackly against the sky. Runion lay on the other side of that ridge, but somewhere between the town and me, yips and cries rose from the gathering dark. These joined together into an eerie howl of various voices that twisted around one another, broke apart, and swelled together again.

Coyotes.

When I was growing up in these mountains, coyotes existed only in old TV westerns. But they were voice-over actors only, strictly behind-the-scenes. They were soundtrack features. Technicians of ambiance. Nothing said a cowboy was alone in the darkening wilderness like the distant howl of a coyote. The cowboy would raise his eyes from the campfire and sit still and listen for a moment, alert to the wild. But it was never the coyote itself that frightened him. Maybe the coyote’s cry was a reminder of his loneliness and vulnerability—that if such a critter could be out there in the dark, then anything could be out there.

But in recent years, coyotes had loped out of the faded glory of Hollywood’s western and into our world, maybe crossing the Mississippi around Memphis and moving steadily east across Tennessee until they reached Appalachia and Runion. They were seen trotting along the edges of regional four-lanes or lying dead on twisting mountain highways. They stole cats and small dogs just beyond the lights of back porches. That evening at the stop sign, they yipped and yapped and cried somewhere out on the verge of a Runion farmer’s field.

Still, I thought, at least they aren’t wolves. Wolves, of course, were a different story. Send up the howl of a wolf into the night, and the cowboy would become focused on the beast, not on loneliness or vulnerability. The wolf’s howl menaced, threatened. Eyes might shine at the edge of the campfire’s light, followed by snarling close-ups. Then enter the legend of the wolf mixed with a man, and the beast achieved cinematic glory, jumping genres from westerns to horror, something coyotes could never quite pull off.

When I pressed the accelerator, the Honda whispered to life, and I turned left toward town. If I sat there much longer, I would be late for the extension meeting, during which one item on the agenda just happened to be related to the beasts of my T-intersection musing. . . .

***

Excerpt from Avalon Moon by Michael Amos Cody. Copyright 2026 by Michael Amos Cody. Reproduced with permission from Michael Amos Cody. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Michael Amos Cody is author of the 2017 novel GABRIEL’S SONGBOOK and the 2021 collection A TWILIGHT REEL, winner of the Short Story category in the Feathered Quill Book Awards 2022. His 2025 literary suspense novel STREETS OF NASHVILLE won the Thriller category in the 2026 Independent Press Awards. His new novel, released in May 2026, is the psychological thriller AVALON MOON. Cody lives with wife Leesa in Jonesborough, Tennessee, and teaches early American literature and creative writing in the Department of Literature and Language at East Tennessee State University.

Catch Up With Michael Amos Cody:

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Facebook - @michaelamoscody
BlueSky - @michaelamoscody.bsky.social

 

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HIDDEN CURRENTS by Claire Booth

 

HIDDEN CURRENTS

by Claire Booth

August 24th - September 18, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

SHERIFF HANK WORTH MYSTERY SERIES

 

Another outstanding book in an ever-evolving police procedural series perfect for fans of Terry Shames and Steven F. Havill.

When spring settles over Branson, Missouri, Sheriff Hank Worth hopes for a quiet season. Instead, the town is rocked when Gene Willard, owner of the local fishing stores, is savagely murdered. What looks like a burglary gone wrong quickly descends into something far more personal. Gene’s messy divorce, his resentful stepson, and a terrified employee with a violent ex all weave a tangle of motives. As Hank digs deeper, the investigation collides with the long‑delayed, politically explosive trial of the men charged in his chief deputy Sheila’s near‑fatal assault. Tempers run high throughout the county, stretching Hank’s department to the breaking point. With personal stakes rising and the community on edge, Hank must unravel lies, expose old betrayals, and confront a killer driven by revenge. In a place where everyone knows everyone else’s business, the hardest secrets to uncover may be the ones floating right near the surface.

Book Details:

Genre: Police Procedural
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: September 1, 2026
Number of Pages: 240
ISBN: 9781448313891 (ISBN10: 1448313899)
Series: The Sheriff Hank Worth Mystery Series, Book 8
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Books-A-Million | Goodreads | BookBub | Severn House

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

The lake was calm and glassy, reflecting the bluffs on the other side. The giant bur oak rustled above them, its foliage almost fully returned after its winter shedding. The tree had stood near the White River for more than two hundred years, adding rings as settlers built Branson around it and dammed its river to create the lake. On this side, the shoreline was flat, dotted with homes, a cabin resort, the edge of downtown where Main Street met the water, and the park where Sam Karnes and Brenna Cassidy now stood.

It would make a beautiful background, Brenna said. There was no guarantee the weather would be good, Sam thought. But he looked at his fiancée’s face and kept his mouth shut. They had decided on a May wedding, before everything got too hot and sticky with summer humidity. That didn’t mean they’d be safe from the rain, though. That could come any time. He thought maybe he should suggest a contingency plan, then remembered his boss’s advice. “You can have an opinion on the food and the music. Everything else—tread carefully.”

So he stood quietly as Brenna framed potential photos with her hands. Where to take the wedding party pictures was one of the last decisions they needed to make. He hoped.

“This area looks good,” he said. “Doesn’t it? It’s not too far from the church.”

She half-nodded and moved to eye things from a different angle. “I don’t know how to avoid that darn plaque. It ruins every shot.”

He walked over to it. It was such a part of the scenery, he’d almost forgotten it was there. When some enterprising 1970s tree aficionado figured out the oak was older than the country, it became the Liberty Tree and the plaque went up in time for the bicentennial. Now the thing needed a good cleaning and, if Brenna had anything to do with it, a relocation.

“If we shoot this way, you don’t see the lake. And if you do it that direction . . .” She sighed. “Big old ugly plaque.”

It stood on a waist-high column. Sam leaned against it and watched Brenna wander around this end of the park. The darn thing was wider than he was. He thought about that and stepped away. Then did some hand measurements.

“What if we covered it up?”

Brenna walked back to him. “What do you mean?”

He moved so he stood directly in front of it. It was clearly visible behind his thin frame. “We put Roddy in front of it.” He spread his hands out a foot on either side, which was about how wide his groomsman Roddy Hale was. “He’d block the whole thing. We just have to arrange the order of everybody so he’s right here.”

Brenna considered that. “I think that could work. Don’t move. Stay right there.”

She walked fairly far away while Sam stood with his hands out as if he was illustrating the size of a particularly large trout. A mom with two young children walked by and gave him a look. He wished he had his sheriff’s deputy uniform on. Then he’d look like he was doing something important instead of just standing around like a sketchy weirdo in the park. The lady hustled her kids past and headed to the picnic area. Sam watched her go as another group came by on their way to the shoreline. By the time they noticed him, Brenna had gestured that he could put his hands down.

“Yes, that’s going to work. Good thinking, babe.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “And good thing you have a football linebacker as a friend.”

Sam laughed at that. Roddy’s size had come in handy many times growing up. He told her a few stories as they walked back to his car. By the time they got there, the group near the picnic area had equipment out, and a lady in slacks and a silk blouse was pointing them in multiple directions.

“Looks like someone else is planning an event, too,” he said, opening the passenger door of his Subaru for Brenna. “The way they’re measuring things, maybe it’s a whole wedding ceremony.”

She scoffed. “That would be way too risky. What if it rained?”

CHAPTER TWO

Sheila Turley had left him a note. And a file. It never boded well when she did this. Hank Worth sat down at his desk and cautiously slid the paperwork closer.

Gursey’s at it again. He’s all yours this time.

The Branson County sheriff opened the file and pulled out the arrest report. Sheila, his second-in-command, only printed things out when she wanted to make a point. Or wanted quick action. Because Hank wasn’t known for staying on top of his email. And she knew this particular suspect was a pet project of his. Gursey Rugg.

The young man had shoplifted again. The twenty-three-year-old was always plucking cheap items off the shelves of local retailers. If it was food, he’d eat it. If it wasn’t, he’d sell it on cheaply to friends and use the money for drugs. If the shopkeepers caught him, they’d call Hank’s deputies and Gursey would spend a while behind bars. But only rarely did people press misdemeanor charges. It wasn’t worth anybody’s time and, even if it had been, the sticky-fingered addict would still be back out on the street soon enough. So instead, he sobered up in Hank’s jail, swore he’d stay off the meth, and slouched back off into an existence where everyone involved deserved better and no one knew how to accomplish it.

But this time, Gursey overstepped. A magpie entranced by bright and shiny, he’d scooped up a handful of the wrong thing in the wrong store. Fourteen hand-tied, rare-feathered flies from Reel Life Outfitters. The owner was a newcomer. Purchased the two venerable fish and tackle stores on opposite ends of Lake Taneycomo when Lyle Boskins retired and seemed to be doing well. But it turned out he wasn’t willing to do nice. He wanted to press charges. And that meant a felony, because of the misdemeanor convictions Gursey had already accumulated. And a felony meant a stint in state prison, which wouldn’t be good for the fragile kid.

Hank re-read the narrative included in the arrest report. Then he got up and walked over from his office in the sheriff’s department Forsyth headquarters to hear from the man himself.

“Hi, Gursey. How you doing?”

“Hey, Sherf.” A disheveled scarecrow the color of a ghost rose to a seated position on the cell bunk. The jail scrubs hung off him in folds, and his dull brown hair stuck out in a dozen directions. At least it was clean. The young man blinked blearily and steadied himself on the mattress.

“What happened?” Hank leaned against the bars. “Last I heard, you were doing pretty well.”

Gursey shrugged, clavicles jutting like wings. “I was. Ask my addiction counselor. I got one of those, did you know? Nice lady. Always worried all the time, though.”

“It sounds like she was helping. When was the last time you saw her? Because right now you don’t look so hot.”

Gursey rubbed his wrists together. “Don’t feel so hot, neither.”

“You coming down off something?”

“Not really. Not like last year. At all, man, I swear. Just a little bit when Morty come to town.”

Hank had no idea who that was. He sighed and ran his hand through his dark hair in frustration. “And when did Morty come?”

“’Bout two weeks ago. He brought some homemade stuff, fresh cooked. I don’t remember much after that, ’til last night—I think. There weren’t no Morty anymore and I was at some trailer someplace.” He shifted suddenly from staring at the ground to looking Hank straight in the eye. “And that sucked, man. It was gross, and I was gross, and I don’t like that anymore.”

Hank blinked in surprise. After every previous arrest, Gursey had promised to stop the drugs. But until right then, he’d never come close to saying he wanted to stop. He kept Hank’s gaze as he continued to talk. “I walked ’til I got past Honey Lane and then saw that fishing place. Figured it would have a bathroom. I went in, and bro, I just wanted money for food. Thought I could turn some stuff over for a few bucks. I—”

“Stop talking,” Hank said. “Just take a deep breath and stop talking.” The goal of keeping Gursey out of state prison would not be helped by a confession to the county sheriff. He considered the inmate. In their numerous interactions in the four years since Hank became sheriff, Gursey had never made this much eye contact. It gave Hank hope. And made him a lot more willing to do what he was going to do once he left the cell block.

***

Excerpt from Hidden Currents by Claire Booth. Copyright 2026 by Claire Booth. Reproduced with permission from Claire Booth. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Claire Booth spent more than a decade as a daily newspaper reporter, working all over the country—from Washington, D.C., to South Florida, the Seattle region, and the Bay Area. She spent much of it covering crimes so convoluted and strange they seemed more like fiction than reality. Eventually, she had enough of the real world and decided to write novels instead. Her critically acclaimed Sheriff Hank Worth mystery series takes place in Branson, Missouri, where small-town Ozark politics and big-city country music tourism clash in, yes, strange and convoluted ways.

Catch Up With Claire Booth:

ClaireBooth.com
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Instagram - @claire.booth10
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Facebook - @claireboothauthor

 

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His Beautiful Game

 

His Beautiful Game
Peyton Lux
(Lanark Soccer Club, #1)
Publication date: August 11th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

My childhood crush is my injured captain… and I’m the physio secretly keeping him on the pitch.

Rafe Calder is everything I learned not to want: flashy, reckless, adored, and far too beautiful. He is also hurt, lying about it, and somehow mine to fix.

I catch the limp no one else sees, then make the dumbest deal of my life. Private rehab, locked rooms, my hands on him daily, and one rule I keep pretending still matters.

At first, he pushes because he hates being handled. Then he listens when pain scares him, lets me see the lonely man under the captain’s armband, and looks ready to break when Donovan Reid makes me smile.

Somewhere between treatment lights, late-night checkups, and one reckless after-hours mistake that turns into more, I fall. Not for the fantasy I used to worship, but for the man who finally stops performing.

Then his injury truth explodes, and protecting him could cost me everything.

Worst of all, loving him might end his career.

Tropes: Childhood crush, star player x physiotherapist, secret injury, forced proximity, forbidden workplace romance, jealousy triangle
Spice level: High / explicit

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Jealousy

I watch every second of that embrace. Her face when he lifts her off the ground, her laughter, the ease of it. Nothing between Tess and me has ever been easy.

He was a good player. I said that myself. But tonight he saved the game in my place, and thirty thousand people cheered him while I stood there feeling like a man who had started the match and somehow still lost it. Then I see him holding Tess, my Tess, and she’s smiling up at him like she doesn’t know exactly what that does to me.

I find her in the hallway outside the locker room. She doesn’t slow when I fall into step beside her, but I catch the way she worries at her lip.

“Great game,” she says.

“Is that what you said to Reid when he had his hands all over you?”

Her head jerks toward me. “I thanked him for the hug, yes.”

I stop her with a hand around her wrist. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

“He was thanking me. I cleared him to play on a calf knock.”

My throat tightens. “I saw the way you looked at him.”

Her expression hardens. “And what about you? What about the pictures of you with that woman? So it’s fine for you to do whatever you were doing, but I can’t accept a thank-you hug from a player I treated?”

“That was weeks ago,” I snap. “Before you and I—”

“I saw you at Halo.” Her voice goes cold. “The night after I came to your house.”

I stare at her. “I was with the lads. We go for beers all the time.”

“From where I was standing, you had a woman on your arm. Then you went off with her afterward. And you’ve got the gall to stand here and act jealous over three seconds in a football stadium?”

“Why were you watching me at Halo?” I demand.

“I was out with Donovan and Layla,” she says sharply. “I wasn’t stalking you.”

The room seems to tilt. “You were out with him?”

“With him and Layla. As friends.”

That lands like a punch. She steps closer and jabs a finger into my chest, and I let her. “Besides, you have no claim over me. You said mine into a mirror after a quick fuck in the gym and then showed up in the press with some other woman. And you know what? You’re right. We’re nothing, officially, so don’t stand here making me feel guilty for doing my job.”

“Don’t say nothing,” I say.

“What are we then?”

The anger in her face cracks for a second, and there’s fear underneath it. “I’ve been lying to my employer about you. I’ve filed false assessments. I’ve let you into places that were supposed to be professional, and you—”

“I haven’t touched anyone else,” I say. “Not since you.”

That stops her.

“The photos were nothing,” I tell her. “What you saw at Halo was nothing.”

Tears gather at the corners of her eyes. “You told me—”

“And I meant it.”

I cup her cheek. “You’re mine, Tess.”

She shudders when I kiss her. She lets me pull her against the wall, lets me kiss her hard enough to make the hallway disappear. But then she presses a hand to my chest and pushes back, just enough to stop me.

I break away, breathing hard. “I haven’t wanted anyone else. Not once.”

Her jaw tightens. “You’re injured, Rafe. Publicly now. I have to file a real assessment this week, and whatever this is, I can’t let it affect that report.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“It already does,” she says quietly. “Every decision I make about your hip, your minutes, whether you play the Founders’ Cup or Donovan does—it’s all compromised because I have feelings. About both of you. And I can’t fix that, so I need you to give me some room.”

Room. For him, too.

I take a step back. Then another.

“Okay,” I say.

Her face flickers. “Rafe—”

“I heard you.” I keep backing away. “Do your job, Montgomery.”

She turns and walks off, leaving me standing in the corridor with the feeling that I’ve just done the right thing, and somehow lost anyway.

Author Bio:

Trading boardrooms for bedrooms (of the fictional kind!), Peyton Lux is now fully dedicated to writing steamy workplace romance that leaves readers utterly satisfied.

Her former life in marketing taught her how to craft compelling narratives – a skill she now devotes entirely to her steamy workplace romance novels.

Peyton lives and breathes romance, infusing her stories with undeniable heat and fiercely earned happily-ever-afters.

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GIVEAWAY!

His Beautiful Game Blitz

—

Tailored for You by B.A. Chayut

 

Title: Tailored for You

Series: Made Men #1

Author: B.A. Chayut

Genres: Romantic Suspense/Mafia Romance

Tropes: Protective Hero, Single Mom, Forced

Proximity, Touch Her and Die, Found Family

Release Date: August 19, 2026

BLURB

Surviving was easy. Trusting the man who's been watching over her all along — that's the hard part.

Serena has survived worse than bad men and broken promises. When danger comes for her and her daughter, survival is no longer something she can manage on her own.

Enzo Lombardi is a made man. Power, loyalty, and violence built his world, and once he decides Serena is worth protecting, there is no walking away. What begins as safety quickly turns into temptation neither of them can ignore, along with a connection Enzo has been quietly cultivating for far longer than she realizes.

In Enzo’s world, threats are answered with blood and loyalty is absolute. Loving him means stepping into the shadows and trusting that he will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

Tailored for You is a romantic suspense, mafia romance, with an HEA.

ADD TO GOODREADS

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AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

AUTHOR BIO

Hi! I'm Brittany and I love to write heart-pounding suspense with strong FMCs and swoony, possessive MMCs.

I started writing during Covid- when I had ideas and stories to tell and finally had the time to write them down.

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A Strange & Terrible Wonder

 

A Strange & Terrible Wonder
Nichole Louise
Publication date: August 18th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical

Eleanor Dare, daughter of Roanoke’s Governor John White, has no choice but to accompany her overly ambitious husband Ananias and her idealist, yet inexperienced father to England’s new colony. Manteo of Croatoan wants nothing more than to cast off his association with the English and return home. Haunted by memories of an unexplainable event, he sets out to find the truth about what was brought to Roanoke by the English two years before as a weapon against the Spanish.

Based on real people who vanished from history, Eleanor and Manteo form a taboo friendship as they work against unseen forces to end the violent and otherworldly attacks upon the settlement. In the midst of this survival scenario, both Eleanor and Manteo—once powerless and marginalized in England, emerge as unlikely leaders of the ravaged colony.

Blending 16th century science, occult, and the impacts of early colonialism, A Strange and Terrible Wonder reimagines what became of the Lost Colony.

Goodreads / Purchase

—

EXCERPT:

Prologue

“All down the church in midst of fire, the hellish monster flew, and passing onward to the quire, he many people slew.”

– Rev. Abraham Fleming, 1577

August 4, 1577
Bungay, England

At first, the congregants believe the slight rattling is only wind insisting upon the church door. A sudden summer tempest. Rain begins to patter above the nave, the sound not altogether unpleasant—soothing, even. A woman closes her eyes and exhales the stress of the morning as she focuses on the rhythm. Her peace is soon jilted by the growing tempest above, for the rain is now a wonderful force with no less violence than abundance. Her eyes snap open and roll to the vaulted ceiling. The great, forceful torrent empties above in what she imagines as glassy sheets pouring from the eaves. A low grumble of thunder. A child presses close to his mother. The two men kneeling at the altar do not flinch in their prayer; one for an abundant harvest season to pay his debts and another for a wife ailing in childbed.

Lightning flashes in brilliant brightness through the clouded, stretching windows. Silhouettes are carved out of the pews. A gust through the crack beneath the front door snuffs out the altar candles as if the tempest is compelling the congregants to sleep. They are all at once aware of the palpable darkness, so much so that one person cannot perceive another. The only light discerned by the congregants is not from the god hanging above them, but from the intermittent great flashing of fiery bolts.

The roar of the storm is so powerful now that the congregants shift with discomfort. A chill tightens the base of their spines as sweat springs on brows with each fearful heartbeat. The men kneeling in prayer do not relinquish their positions, though they see little, and their knees begin to ache against the flagstones. Instead, they press their eyes and hands tighter and pray now for the light to return. The only answer they receive is a terrible crack of thunder with such force and might that the congregants begin to believe doomsday has come.

The doors are thrown open as if by a blast of gunpowder. Lashing wind explodes down the nave, spraying hot rain onto the necks and backs of the congregants who dare not turn from the cross. The woman who had before held a moment of peace, presuming a gentle patter could not turn tempest, winces at the scalding sensation of boiling water against her bare skin. The church seems to quake and stagger as the scent of glowing iron, not unlike a blacksmith’s shop, permeates the darkened church.

The child clutches tightly to his mother when, amid twin lightning strikes, a great shape dashes down the nave toward the altar. The drops of rainwater on the flagstones sizzle as the thing passes in a hot rush of a blacksmith’s bellows. And with another flash of fire, the child sees it—they all see it: a great black dog with one ember glowing eye running with incredible haste. The woman muffles her scream as others bend beneath the flimsy pews as if a mere board of wood will save them from this devil.

The praying men feel great heat against their backs as if a bonfire has been lit before the altar. A sacrifice. Liquid fear runs down their legs, and still they dare not open their eyes nor pry their rigid hands apart. In another crack of thunder and lightning, the great black dog wrings both men’s necks backward in one clean instant. Its movement is so violent, so swift, that the dead men still kneel in prayer.

The child gasps when the lightning illuminates the whites of dead eyes in the heads bent unnaturally back. He buries his face in his mother’s skirts as her nails dig into his narrow shoulders. The beast turns on the congregation, its low growl indistinguishable from thunder, like a thousand carts moving across cobblestones. It stalks down the aisle, its bellows as hot as the summer sun’s rays. The congregants close their eyes against the darkness, press their slick palms together, and pray for their god to save them in his very house.

The beast chooses a man who dares glance up, for he believes he can slip out the door and escape this hell. Instead, the beast’s shining obsidian claws grip the man’s back in so forceful a manner that it is as if his entire body becomes drawn together and shrunk, as if it were a piece of leather scorched by hot fire. Wordless, he topples over with limbs trailing smoke.

The beast shifts into shadow, and the woman sitting next to the burned but still living man stumbles away from the charred flesh and wheezes for help. The rector, who has finally slid out of the shadows, catches her as she falls from the pew. He prays over her—whispering first, then increasing to test the roar around them. He exhorts the terrified congregants to prayer, and in their extreme distress, do so in darkness. The hot wind and scalding rain lash them, for the tempest has now fully invaded their sanctuary. Some congregants are frozen in terror, save their lips flapping desperate prayers, while others try in vain to crawl for the door.

In a flash, the beast materializes on the main beam above the congregants. Its searing talons set the old oak to smoldering as if coaxing a fire. Its ragged back chars the angel carved into the ceiling. The demon swings down through the church. Three lightning bolts follow the dog jumping from one man to another, then a lad, killing all three instantly. The dog dashes from the crumpled boy, and a deafening crack as if the earth has split in two cleaves the roof, and with it, the steeple. The cascade of stone rumbles down the side of the church, and for one striking moment of terror, a woman cries out that hell has opened to swallow the church whole.

The dog bounds for the next man. He dives away, yet not before his hand is burned by the scalding creature’s touch. In shock, the man lifts his charred hand to the burning sensation where his ear used to be. The creature blasts through the church doors, leaving a trail of scorch marks in the wood. The mischief thus wrought, the beast flies with wonderful force out of the churchyard in a hideous and hellish likeness.

Like a decimated forest in the aftermath of a windstorm, the congregants are left quivering. It’s clear to the man with the burned hand and missing ear that there are forces at work mightier than God, who could not protect his devout followers in His own house. Dazed, the man staggers out of the ruins with his compatriots. He looks to the rapidly clearing sky and resolves to find someone with knowledge of these unseen forces—and how to master them. A conjurer with the influence to pursue the arcane unhindered. What other reason could there be for such hell if not as a path to Providence for England? He will accept no other explanation.

Author Bio:

Nichole Louise is a speculative historical fiction writer and book reviewer (NicholeLouise.com). Raven Rock (2023), a prequel to The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, was recognized by Writer’s Digest, the Historical Fiction Company, and the CIBAs. Her articles and book reviews have appeared in the Journal of the American Revolution. Her second title, A Strange and Terrible Wonder (2026) is a historical folk horror tale exploring the Lost Colony of Roanoke. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, gaming, and volunteering at Philadelphia Animal Welfare Society.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram

GIVEAWAY!

A Strange & Terrible Wonder Blitz

—

THE CALL TO AUTHORSHIP

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Tim W. Lindsay 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 tours.

Embrace the call to authorship: 10 steps to leverage the power of a book!

Books help people—they inform, inspire, and engage. Books are also a powerful force for those who write them. Publishing a book builds your authority, sharpens your thinking, and opens doors to media exposure, speaking engagements, partnerships, and more.

Despite the greater accessibility of publishing than ever before, many would-be authors hesitate. They get stuck with self-doubt or believe producing a book is incompatible with a busy life. They may start writing but don't finish. Or they finish but don't publish or market their books.

The truth? With a little dedicated time, consistent effort, and the right guidance, anyone can publish a book that changes lives for the better. And they should.

Put down your phone. Take the leap from consumer to creator!

This step-by-step guide will show you how to:
- Use a one-page tool to clarify your goals, target audience and plan.
- Craft an outline that drives your manuscript forward.
- Overcome mental roadblocks and craft habits to finish your first draft in months, not years—even with a busy schedule.
- Select a publishing model, refine your manuscript, and make informed design and distribution decisions.
- Employ promotional strategies to achieve goals that transcend royalties.

Become more than you are. Have courage. Commit to growth by authoring a book, strengthening your ability to serve. Write with purpose. Publish for impact!

Bonus for book professionals: Special content for book coaches, editors, and ghostwriters—those helping ordinary people become extraordinary authors.

Read an Excerpt

The first step outlined in this book is to get clarity on your purpose and goals: your motivation for writing the book in the first place. This includes your strategic why and any business goals you may have, like generating leads, new clients, speaking opportunities, or partners. It also includes your journey why: enjoying the process, learning, being active rather than passive, stretching yourself, and getting outside your comfort zone.

Your purpose also relates to your readers, your service why. How are you helping them? If one reader studies your book closely and follows through on everything you advise in your book, how will it change their life? The impact you have on others can be profound, even if only a small number of people experience it. Your impact expands the more you effectively promote your book to grow your audience base.

The impact you have isn’t just on those who read your book, it also includes people who hear your interviews or see you speaking at an event, take your course, or decide to work with you and use your services after learning about you through your book marketing efforts, whether they read the book in full or not. And there is always a ripple effect: the people you reach will go on to influence and inspire others in their own circles.

But your book won’t just change your readers’ lives—it will change you. Publishing a book is a journey that leaves you transformed. You may start with a vague idea about publishing and a rough concept for your book. At first mental hangups and fears may hold you back. But if you follow the steps in this book, you’ll move through them.

About the Author:

Tim Lindsay founded Tellwell in 2015. Since then, he and his team have guided some 5,000 authors including entrepreneurs, professional speakers, coaches, consultants, experts, course creators, community builders, religious and nonprofit leaders, Indigenous organizations, athletes, influencers, and everyday citizens.

Website: http://www.Tellwellpublishing.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tellwellpublishing/
Tellwell - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@tellwellpublishing
Amazon: https://amazon.com/dp/1834180422

Giveaway https://kingsumo.com/g/1wgd4rm/the-call-to-authorship-tellwell

TEMPERATURE RISING by Joel Burcat

 

TEMPERATURE RISING

by Joel Burcat

August 17 - September 11, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

 

A deadly secret. A dangerous game. How much is she willing to sacrifice to expose the truth?

Anna Freeman never expected a routine errand to change everything. But when the ambitious law student and environmental activist retrieves a harmless videotape on energy policy, she unknowingly steps into the heart of a ruthless conspiracy. Powerful lobbyists, corrupt politicians, and billion-dollar interests will do whatever it takes to keep their secrets buried—and now, Anna is in their crosshairs.

Before she realizes it, she’s pulled deep into the very system she once despised, embraced and seduced by those orchestrating the cover-up. They think she’s one of them. But Anna has other plans. Working undercover for The New York Times, she’s determined to expose the truth—no matter the cost. The only problem—she falls in love with the industry’s most trusted lobbyist.

With every step she takes, the danger intensifies. Lies mount. The deeper she infiltrates, the harder it becomes to save herself and her friends from the ultimate outcome. When the threats turn personal, Anna faces an impossible Will she risk everything—her career, her relationships, her friendships, even her life—to bring the truth to light? Or will she be silenced before she has the chance?

Temperature Rising is an electrifying political thriller packed with pulse-pounding suspense, forbidden romance, and high-stakes deception. As Anna races against time, one thing becomes clear—some secrets are worth killing for.

Praise for Temperature Rising:

"A timely and poignant thriller of political machinations, threats and lies. I enjoyed Temperature Rising, it heats up quickly and burns hot."
~ Robert Dugoni, New York Times Bestselling Selling author

"Burcat’s sharp execution offers plenty of surprises. The timely boardroom intrigue offers plenty of thrills. An intriguing conspiracy tale that finds fresh energy in familiar power struggles."
~ KIRKUS Reviews

"Original, deftly crafted, compelling, and a wild ride of a suspense thriller from start to finish."
~ Jim Cox, Midwest Book Review

Book Details:

Genre: Political Suspense Thriller
Published by: Milford House Press
Publication Date: June 16, 2026
Number of Pages: 289
ISBN: 979-8888193587
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Sunbury Press Bookstore

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 40

A familiar sound awoke Anna.

Click-click-click.

The sound floated through her head. It stopped. Then it began again.

Click-click-click.

Anna sat up with a start.

Silence.

She went to the door and held her breath.

Nothing. Just the humming and buzzing from the electrical systems. A clock ticking down the hall.

Slowly, she tiptoed to Connor’s office. She stood behind a stack of file cabinets and looked. Dim light leaked under the door. Anna froze.

Anna wanted to run away, but she slowly walked closer.

It was dark. No steel balls clicking. The only light at this end of the floor was from the streetlights.

She calmed herself as she realized that the streetlights cast a glow into the window near Donna Russell’s desk. She hoped that was the light she saw.

“Mr. Connor?” Anna whispered.

Silence.

She lightly tapped on his door.

“Mr. Connor?” she said more loudly.

Quiet.

Slowly, Anna tried the knob.

It was locked, but not pulled shut all the way.

She was sure it had been locked tightly when she tried it before.

She pushed the door open. The room was dark, illuminated only by the streetlight from outside. The desk was empty except for Newton’s cradle.

It swayed back and forth, the way it did as it was coming to rest. Conservation of momentum. Conservation of energy.

Anna gasped. Why was it moving?

“Mr. Connor?” she said more loudly. She looked around the office.

No reply. She quickly looked behind Connor’s big leather chair. Nothing.

“Mr. Heftig?”

Silence.

Slowly, Anna turned and looked behind the door. She felt a creeping sensation on her back. The fine hair on her neck stood up straight.

Nothing.

Slowly, she continued turning to survey the entire office. Then she jumped. The air conditioner clicked on and a woosh came through the vent. A mountain range of goosebumps rose on her bare arms.

She looked at the desk. The Newton’s cradle was swaying in the breeze. She held her hand over the toy. The AC blew directly onto it. Just enough to make the balls click together quietly. They swayed in the breeze from the vent. Together. All five balls. Had this always been the case? Was the office so noisy during the day that she hadn’t noticed the quiet sound?

Anna took a deep breath, backed out of the office, and pulled the door until it clicked shut.

As she returned to her office, she glanced at the clock. It was 4:15. She was fifteen minutes late to meet Dread.

“Oh crap.”

Anna shot down the hallway to the freight elevator. It seemed to take forever to come to her floor. As the door closed she remembered something and stuck her hand into the narrow opening, pushing the rubberized safety bar and making the door open. She ran to room 2-Y and used her key to get back inside. She grabbed the beat up briefcase from the corner, the one with SOF stamped on the side, and ran back to the elevator.

The elevator slowly descended to the basement. No matter how many times she pressed the button, it went at the same annoying speed. She worked her way through the maintenance room and placed the cardboard into position at the door. She put the briefcase in the corner on the loading dock. Then she hustled to L Street and looked up and down. No Dread. No people. Not even a taxi.

The air was chilly and Anna regretted forgetting to put on her sweater, which was draped on her chair in her office. She walked up and down the street and didn’t see any sign of Dread anywhere. She looked at her watch; it was 4:20.

“Damn. Damn. Damn.”

Finally, a pair of headlights approached on L Street. The car was moving slowly. A big, dark green SUV, a Suburban with an extended back, pulled up and stopped. The driver wore a flannel shirt and had a beard. Anna thought she recognized him from the bar in New Jersey. He smiled pleasantly at her.

Anna smiled at the man.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Anna. Sorry, I was late.”

“Hey there, Anna. Call me Jack. Don’t matter to me, baby.”

“Did it take you a while to get here?”

“Hours. Been looking for you for a while.”

“Sorry. I fell asleep. Are you ready to do this?” Anna said.

“Never readier,” the man replied, smiling. He patted the passenger seat.

“You can pull into the alley over there.” Anna pointed. She started to open the door.

“Sure, if you say so.” The man craned his neck to see the alley. “Is that where it’s at?”

“Yes. That’s where it’s at. Where’s Dread?” Anna asked, looking around.

The man made a face. “I’m past dread, baby, unless you’re with the cops. What do you charge? I’m just looking for some quick head. I can give you twenty bucks. We can do it in the back of my Suburban or right here on the front seat. Whatever works for you.”

Anna recoiled from the man. “Oh God,” she said. She hopped out and retreated to the nearest doorway. The man watched her through the open window.

“Hey, come on, baby,” he called. “We can do it quick. I promise. I’ll give you twenty-five bucks.”

Finally, he slowly moved on when another vehicle pulled up behind him and flashed its lights. A pickup truck.

Anna waited in the darkened doorway until the window of the pickup opened. It was Dread.

“Hey, Anna, hon, we thought maybe you gave us the wrong info when we talked. We were here at ten of. This is the third time we’ve circled around the block.”

Anna opened the door and got inside. Her hands were shaking.

“Calm down, hon. We got this. You look sick. Here, this will help.” Dread handed her a brown paper bag.

Anna wondered what variety of alcohol Dread had in the bag. She hoped it was vodka.

“You want a cookie?” Dread asked. “They’re chocolate chip. I baked them myself.”

“You bake cookies?” Anna broke into a smile.

“You got a problem wit’ that? Camden County’s junior baking champ in twelfth grade. I’ve got the blue ribbon at home to prove it.”

Anna finally laughed and opened the bag, releasing the smell of brown sugar, vanilla, and chocolate. The cookies were huge and smelled glorious. She took a piece of cookie from the bag. In fact, it was scrumptious. “Oh God Dread, these are yummy!”

Dread smiled her smile and Anna directed her to the alley and told her to back in. Another pickup truck backed in behind them.

“That’s Max,” Dread said, keeping her hands on the wheel and pointing with one finger. “One of my boys with the Devils. I borrowed this truck from another guy, and Max agreed to come down with me. We convoyed all the way here. Did I see you talking with someone in an SUV?”

Anna nodded. “Yes. I thought it was one of your guys. It wasn’t. He thought I was a hooker.”

Dread was twisted around her seat as she backed into the alley, and she put her foot on the brake and looked at Anna. “I can see that. A little skinny, maybe, to earn a good living. Not nearly enough meat up top. But most guys aren’t picky at 4 a.m. What did he offer you?”

“Twenty bucks for a B.J.”

“Twenty? At this time of night, poor horny dude was probably desperate. You should have held out for forty.” Dread cackled, a long drawn-out laugh. After a moment, Anna laughed too.

They slowly backed into the alley, all the way to the dumpster. Anna hopped out first. As soon as her sneakers touched the ground, something didn’t seem right. She immediately went to the place where the documents had been hidden.

They were gone.

***

Excerpt from Temperature Rising by Joel Burcat. Copyright 2026 by Joel Burcat. Reproduced with permission from Joel Burcat. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Joel Burcat is an award-winning novelist and retired environmental lawyer whose thrillers blend high-stakes suspense with real-world issues. He is the author of Drink to Every Beast, Amid Rage, Strange Fire, Reap the Wind, and Temperature Rising, as well as the historical novel Whiz Kid, co-written with his late father, David S. Burcat. His books have earned multiple honors, including Readers’ Favorite Gold and Silver Medals, a Kindle Book Reviews Semi-Finalist award, and recognition from PennWriters and the Next Generation Indie Book Awards (Finalist). Drawing on more than forty years of environmental law practice, Burcat now writes full-time from central Pennsylvania.

Catch Up With Joel Burcat:

JoelBurcat.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @JoelBurcat
Instagram - @joelburcattheauthor
Threads - @joelburcattheauthor
X - @JoelBurcat
Facebook - @JoelBurcatAuthor

 

Tour Participants:

Click through the other tour stops for can’t-miss reviews, insider interviews, exclusive guest posts, and more chances to win!

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

A Hot New Chance to Win!

This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Joel Burcat. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

TEMPERATURE RISING by Joel Burcat | Gift Card

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The Ties that Bind

 

The Ties that Bind
James Rosenberg
(The Legacy of Lies Legal Thriller, #1)
Publication date: July 27th 2026
Genres: Adult, Thriller

Some families build empires. Others bury secrets beneath them.

Bill Simon thought marrying Sharon Green meant entering a powerful legal dynasty and finally proving he belonged. Fresh from his honeymoon and eager to succeed at his new firm, Green & DeWitt, Bill is handed a complex real estate transaction tied to the influential Green family empire.

What begins as routine due diligence quickly spirals into something far more dangerous.

Hidden behind layers of shell companies, offshore accounts, and falsified property records, Bill uncovers connections to cartel money, political corruption, and a network of powerful men determined to keep their secrets buried. The deeper he digs, the more he realizes the conspiracy may reach directly into his father-in-law’s inner circle—and possibly into his own marriage.

As Bill digs deeper, Sharon Green fights to protect her family’s public image while uncovering other sinister connections between her family and the drug cartel. As others question the legitimacy of her father’s enterprises, she tries to find answers about the empire she was born into.

As they uncover disturbing connections between her father and the Mexican drug lord,Sharon and Bill are trapped between loyalty and truth, ambition and survival.

And in a world where power protects its own, exposing the truth could cost them everything.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

The heat wafted above the scrubland. Three trucks waited in line, engines idling low in the darkness.

Each truck had a driver and one passenger, and together their primary responsibility was to get the trucks over the border less than thirty miles away.

Rafa Medina kicked at the dried ground as he waited for confirmation to move. They were still on schedule, but barely.

Luis Cortes sat in the passenger seat of the second truck, window cracked. A folded manifest lay on his lap. Medina tapped his window twice. Luis glanced over and gave a short nod.

The third truck’s driver shifted in his seat. Medina caught the movement and shook his head once. He could accept fear. Panic only caused mistakes.

Medina felt the vibration in his pocket. The signal, at last. He raised his hand.

As the trucks shifted into gear, the whine of their engines intensified. The first truck rolled forward, followed by the second, and then the third. They stayed in tight formation as they turned onto the paved road heading north.

Medina jogged to his Jeep, climbed in, and maneuvered his vehicle in behind them.

He considered moving to the front of the line to take control, but before he could decide, gunfire echoed from the brush to his right. The lead truck swerved, glass spraying off to its side.

The truck regained its footing, tires screaming, as it came out of its fishtail.

The second shot came from the opposite side of the road, from cover behind a grouping of bushes.

The muzzle flashes were sequenced and controlled. Now was not the time for panic. He knew immediately it was a rival crew, one that had studied the route and wanted it.

The first truck accelerated, pushing past the shots.

When a new round of shots burst from the right, the second truck was directly in front of it and caught a barrage of automatic fire in the passenger side door.

As the bullets tore through the truck, Luis jerked sideways, his body snapping against the window as glass exploded outward. The driver screamed and hit the gas. The truck lurched forward, out of the danger zone.

As the trucks moved ahead, Medina pulled out his Glock and aimed toward the brush where he had spotted the muzzle flashes. From his slightly elevated position, he fired twice, forcing the shooters back. They withdrew, retreating into the darkness.

Their message had been delivered.

Medina didn’t chase. The trucks came first.

He ran to the second truck. Blood was everywhere.

The driver was shaking, hands locked on the wheel, eyes wide. Medina yanked the door open and pulled him out.

“We have ten minutes. Your truck won’t make it to the border. Transfer the cargo. I’ll take care of Luis.”

The driver nodded.

Medina climbed into the cab. Luis’s eyes were open, unfocused. He checked for a pulse. There was none. This simplified matters.

Medina scampered to the other side of the truck and grabbed Luis under the arms, dragging him from the cab.

Ten minutes. That was all they had.

He pulled the body into the brush. He worked with his hands and a tire iron he grabbed from the back of the truck, digging quickly, ignoring the ache in his shoulders.

Medina lowered the body into the ground, then shoveled dirt to cover it. The land closed over the shape easily, swallowing it. He didn’t mark the grave and offered no words.

He crossed himself and then wiped his hands on his pants.

The damaged truck was next. Medina drove it behind a clump of bushes. No one would notice it for months. No one would care.

This was no man’s land.

The other trucks waited.

Medina jogged back to the road and waved the trucks forward. They didn’t hesitate. The second truck’s payload had already been transferred.

Medina climbed back into his vehicle and pulled in behind them.

The convoy moved north, engines steady.

Dust flew from their tires and then settled behind them.

Author Bio:

James Rosenberg is a 3rd generation trial attorney with plenty of stories to tell.

Inspired not only by the courtroom stories his father and grandfather used to tell

him when he was a child, but also by the wild adventures he’s encountered through

his own experience as a lawyer. James is fascinated by the intricate, interpersonal

dynamics of every trial he’s endured. Whether it’s the raw emotion on display in

court, the tension in the air that builds until someone wins, or the impact that a

case’s decision has on the parties involved, James is always paying attention and

keeping tabs on what’s happening.

In his debut novel, “Legal Reserves”, James flexes his creative muscle outside of the

courtroom to share his stories, with a fictional twist, through the eyes of archetypes

he knows well.

A native of Pittsburgh and a graduate of Taylor Allderdice High School and the

University of Pittsburgh School of Law, James has been a trial attorney in Pittsburgh

for almost 30 years. He started writing legal thrillers as a stress reducer and finds

this creative outlet to be a fun and meaningful diversion from his day job.

When he’s not trying cases, he’s either dreaming up his next book idea, spending

time with his wife and three kids, or both.

To contact James email Rosenberg@marcus-shapira.com or follow him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/RosenbergWrites/

Check out his website: www.JamesRosenbergAuthor.com

Please become part of my email list and get updates about my latest launches. https://subscribepage.io/fcVT4h

GIVEAWAY!

The Ties that Bind Blitz

—

Zombie Zoo

 

Adventures in Tub (Felix & Ninja, Book 1)

Upper Middle Grade

Date Published: 09-15-2026

Publisher: Oculus Print

Two orphan loners. One supernatural plague. When wood-eating zombies threaten their island, mismatched investigators Felix and Ninja must combine science and instinct to save Spinachi-before they're next.

ZOMBIE ZOO is Book 1 in a five-book middle grade adventure series for readers ages 8-13, blending paranormal mystery, zombies, unlikely friendship, and STEAM-powered problem-solving.

When 13-year-old aspiring naturalist Felix Fizzystyxx discovers that orphans at Wayward Amok Orphanage are transforming into wood-eating zombies, his quiet tree-fort observations are no longer enough. Someone has deliberately unleashed a strange plague on Tub's island town of Spinachi-and they're still out there.

To find a cure, Felix must team up with Ninja, a shadow-dwelling orphan who trusts her instincts and never backs down. Intense and razor-sharp, she notices what others overlook and lives up to her name as the island's most mysterious sleuth. With their eccentric mentor Doc Brunne compromised and the town's water supply contaminated by a glowing bioluminescent substance, the two mismatched investigators must combine scientific observation with sharp intuition to stop the outbreak before their island home is devoured.

Set on the fictional island of Tub, this fast-paced, humorous adventure naturally weaves in STEAM concepts-biology, chemistry, bioluminescence, water systems, pattern recognition, and the scientific method-within an age-appropriate supernatural mystery. Themes include unlikely friendship, identity, trust across differences, courage, and finding your voice when adults won't listen.

Featuring diverse protagonists, quirky humor, spooky-but-fun scares, and strong female and male leads. ZOMBIE ZOO is ideal for reluctant readers and fans of Max Brallier's The Last Kids on Earth, B.B. Alston's Amari and the Night Brothers, and Goosebumps. Comprehensive educator resources-including discussion guides, vocabulary lists, STEAM extension activities, and printable maps-support classroom use, library programming, book clubs, and make this title ideal for cross-curricular lessons bridging ELA, STEAM, and SEL.

 

About the Author

Melanie Abed is a behavioral expert turned story weaver. She believes dragons are real but hiding, and finds thunderstorms equally delightful and terrifying. A tea-loving bookworm, she champions young minds and writes to help kids discover their superpowers are real.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Pinterest

Instagram: @byMelanieAbed

✩⃟💜⃟✩ REBRAND RELEASE✩⃟💜⃟✩

 

  ✩⃟💜⃟✩ REBRAND RELEASE✩⃟💜⃟✩

The Companion has a brand-new look and has been completely remastered! If you love Dark Spicy Romance with an Age-gap this is available now and F-R-E-E on Kindle Unlimited.

By Amelie S. Duncan

1-Click on Amazon 

US | UK | CA | AU

#KindleUnlimited

What to expect:

🤍Billionaire Romance

🩷Dark Romance

 🤍Spicy

🩷Steamy

🩷Age-Gap

🤍POV: Heroine only

BLURB

Sometimes, the most extraordinary people appear under the oddest circumstances...

I got caught up in one of my boss's out-of-the-box ideas to generate business, and it led me to meet him.

Somewhat undercover, I was to meet one of the most powerful men in New York City.

Jonas Crane was the most handsome, mysterious, and private man, but he recently surprised the world by being willing to publish a tell-all memoir that would undoubtedly be an instant bestseller.

How I met him wasn't how it ended, and that was only the beginning.

He wasn’t as ruthless as the public believed.

For me, he was magic, charismatic, dynamic, and in sensual ways demanding.

He had his own rules and fears, but he offered me an opportunity to see more of what was behind the curtain.

At times, our time together was overwhelming and challenged everything about me.

At times, he was the only beacon of light in my grief, pulling out that old part of me I thought died with my parents.

All I knew was that I was falling in love fast, and hope and a future I never thought possible started to bloom.

Or so I thought, until shadows from my past resurfaced.

Could I have dared to dream, or would it all end before it truly began?

Dark themes: 

Relationship violence, eating disorders, body dysmorphic disorder, verbal, physical, and mental abuse. Other: divorce, death, grief

This book is a remastered edition. It was previously published as Tiger Lily: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Trilogy Book 1.

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