Friday, May 8, 2026

Taken by the Alien - Taken Book 13 - A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel #Women'sFiction #Paranormal

Megan Slayer is here to tell us about Taken by the Alien, Taken book 13, a paranormal women's fiction novel.

Read on for details...

_________________________
 



(Taken, Book 13)


A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novel

Date Published: May 8, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



She’s got magic she’s never tapped into. He’s from another galaxy. Together, they’re just right.

Lindsey Knepper-Lare just wants to belong. As far back as she can remember, she’s felt different. She’s convinced she’ll always been damaged goods. Then she’s abducted by an alien and spirited to a planet with a name she can’t even pronounce. Then Ronan walks into her life. He’s everything she wants, but has never had the courage to go after. Too bad he’ll never pay her any mind.

Ronan Miir wasn’t planning on visiting the diner on ERAEMA, but the second he spots Lindsey, he knows he has to save her. The metallic aliens on the planet want nothing good for to her. Not Ronan. He wants to kiss, touch, and protect her. Good thing he knows a thing or two about aliens, rescue, and getting back to Eerie. He’s ready to make their pairing into a forever romance… if she’ll give him a chance.

 


Excerpt


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Megan Slayer

She blinked back tears and her stomach lurched again. She’d been taken from her home against her will, was being used for something she never wanted to take part in, and had been dumped in a place she didn’t even know to work for a being who claimed to own her. And she had no idea how to get home.

Lovely.

“Oh, and if you try to rip the comm off your body, it will alert P482 and he’ll destroy you.” T181 threw a rag in her direction. “Get to cleaning. These tables won’t sanitize themselves.”

She held onto the rag, then wondered what she was supposed to clean with the rag. Instead of asking questions, she moved to the first table and wiped it down. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to cry. If she’d been able to be strong so far, she could keep doing it. She had no choice.

She wasn’t about to let anyone see her crack. She’d dissociate from herself and pretend she wasn’t here. Again. She wasn’t anyone’s slave. She didn’t have to act like she was happy in her surroundings.

“A few rules. Don’t talk to the clients. You’re here to clean, not flirt. They won’t take you out of here, so don’t ask. Understood?” T181 asked. “If they want food, they’ll let you know, but you simply deliver. You clean, you keep your mouth shut, and you give in to P482 if you want freedom from here.”

A man walked into the diner and said something she couldn’t quite hear to T181. Lindsey moved to the second table and watched the man. So far, she’d only seen beings that resembled satellites, like T181 and P482. This was the first being she’d encountered, even at a glance, who sort of resembled a human.

She watched him and her heart ached. Not only because she missed her home, but because she missed being held. Missed being touched. Missed other humans. Hell, she wasn’t even sure anyone would want to look for her. No one probably missed her.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t drool over this being. She swept her gaze over him. Dark hair, a bit wavy and just long enough to need a little product. Icy blue eyes that seemed to pierce through her the longer she looked at him. He had a slight dimple when he smiled and dazzling white teeth. He even had nice hands. The suit fit tight to his body, like it was tailored precisely for him. He oozed sex. No, not just sex, but power and confidence as well.

Not that this man would ever look her way. Good gracious. She was like Cinderella, but on a whole different planet. Even back on Earth men like him didn’t pay her any mind. She faded into the background -- just like she would here.

T181 moved between her and the man. “He’s mine. He’s got money, he’s free to move about the planet, and won’t bed you.”

She almost asked, “Bed him?” She hadn’t even thought of that. “Sure.”

She glanced over at him while she cleaned the third table. He had nice lips. Just full enough for a good kiss. She’d bet he was skilled at kissing, too. Not that she’d ever know. She was stuck.

She’d been taken to breed and given a bullshit answer for how to get home. A lie. Her heart hurt. This was so silly. Impossible, really. This man, no matter how sexy he was, probably had obscene amounts of money or credits or whatever. She wasn’t even sure how he’d been able to come to the planet. Was he a prisoner, too?

 

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.


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Thursday, May 7, 2026

Claimed - Claimed 3 - An Off World Sci-Fi Action Romance #Romance #Sci-Fi #Action #OffWorld

Ashlynn Monroe is here to tell us about Claimed, Claimed 3, an off world sci-fi action romance.

Read on for details...

______________________
 


(Claimed 3)


An Off World Sci-Fi Action Romance

Date Published: May 8, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press




Lexa never really knew what it meant to live until she was condemned to die.

Framed for a crime she’d never even contemplated, Lexa Mercer’s doing thirty days or death on the Intergalactic Broadcasting Channel’s hit reality show Nariasma. She owes her life to one of the show’s hottest contestants -- and a ghost of a man no one is supposed to know exists.

Roan of the Northlands is a man made famous by enduring his sentence on the space station Nariasma. Lexa has seen the rugged hunk on television, but she never imagined he’d be rescuing her from hunters who’ve paid to kill criminals.

Roan’s strange companion Jenner is convinced Lexa is the key to their freedom. Surviving and keeping her alive is just part of the challenge. Now Roan has more to lose than his future. He’s made the mistake of falling in love with Lexa, and that makes him the one thing he’s never been on Nariasma -- vulnerable.

Roan and Jenner will give all they’ve got to protect Lexa. Jenner’s convinced she’s the only one who can save them. But does she have the strength to change their reality?

 


Excerpt
Copyright ©2026 Ashlynn Monroe

 

Lexa's mouth felt dry. She tasted a bitter metallic tang on her tongue. For a few seconds she lay, hurting, with her eyes closed. Her head ached as she sat up. She didn't remember much at first, but then the horror of Dom's death and her sham of a trial came rushing back in a torrent.

She groaned and opened her eyes. The room was small. Bright light shone down from a single fixture in the ceiling. She was dressed in a dark brown leather corset and matching -- too tight -- leather pants. She ran her hands over her backside. The horrible pants weren't ass-less, and she was glad of that, at least. There was a black nylon utility vest over her shoulders. A row of silver and gold sequins sparkled on the hem of the vest. The combination of style and material was strange. Glam survivalist?

She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose in an attempt to clear her foggy mind. Her stomach rolled. Someone had seen her naked when she'd been at her most vulnerable. Shivering, she forced herself to stop thinking about how dirty having been stripped made her feel. Pushing herself up, using the wall, she managed to get to her feet.

The door slid open with a whoosh. Whoever designed the room had hidden the door so well she'd never even noticed it until it opened. A tall woman watched her mutely.

Lexa flinched under the scrutiny. "Why are you here? What's happening to me?" Lexa screamed the questions at the woman as her hysteria rose.

"You'll have a ten second head start. Go right to avoid the desert. Get to the trees, and you'll have a better chance. Here is your pack. It's all any of the contestants start out with. Inside you'll find a utility knife, canteen and matches. Millions of fans will be watching you. Take solace in knowing you won't die alone." The woman spoke without any hint of emotion or remorse.

"I don't plan to die at all," Lexa said. She hated how this woman had written her off. She wasn't doomed. She wasn't going to give up. Just because wealthy men had paid for a license to hunt her didn't mean she was automatically condemned. "I'm going to serve my time and return home."

Sympathy flickered across the woman's features, but she quickly covered the expression with a scowl. "Few have lived long enough to serve their time. No woman has left this place alive. Many find it easier just to walk out and wait for the end."

"I've never been good at taking the easy way out. I'll take my chances with the woods. Why are you giving me advice?"

"It's been a long time since we've had a woman as young as you on the show. I'd like to make the most of your time." The tall stranger's words held the ring of truth.

Lexa shrugged. "I'll do my best to outlast my sentence. I'd hate it if Interplanetary Broadcasting lost ratings due to my untimely demise. How bad can a month be?" Lexa spoke as sarcastically as possible. She didn't know if the cameras were already watching her, but she had a feeling they might be. Hatred for the mindless people watching her injustice boiled in her core. Until now, she'd been just like them.

The reality of how meaningless human life was hit her with shocking force.

The woman's eyes darkened. "May the enlightenment of justice guide your path."

Her sentence had begun. The cameras were watching. The woman's use of words made that clear. "Um, thanks, I'll make my own light. I've had a taste of justice, and it wasn't for me." Her new reality was a terrifying example of how deep a lie could burrow to masquerade as truth. She glared at the woman. No matter how afraid she felt she refused to let her fear show.

The emotionless expression taking over the woman's face made her shiver. "What happens now?" Lexa asked.

"Now you survive, or not. Either way, it'll be good TV."

Lexa's eyes widened as the woman shoved her out the door.

She ended up on an elevator and not in a hallway as she'd expected. As her brain kicked in, she realized it was now or never. With shaking hands, she took the items from the pack and shoved them in the few pockets her thin vest offered. She'd seen this show a few times -- enough to know the bright orange backpack was a good way to die.

Now she wished she'd watched more often. Her mother hated the show and always said it was low class and not what her daughter should watch.

Just as she put the last item into a secure place and dropped the bright bag, the elevator stopped. Her heart raced. Her heavy breathing was the only sound she could hear.

The doors opened and bright sunlight flooded the dark space to blind her. She took a shaky step and saw trees in the distance. She took the woman's advice and ran toward them.

In her mind, she started to count. One... two... three... The ten seconds would be over long before she reached the trees. She didn't look back, afraid of what she'd see. They'd be waiting. Men had paid for the privilege of killing her for the entertainment of bored television viewers back home.

A breeze ruffled her hair. Everything felt so real here, but it wasn't a planet. It was a space station. Terror hit her in the stomach so hard she stumbled. Horrified, she watched the ground coming at her face as she fell forward. She was giving her life to those bastards too easily. Her eager executioners would be upon her in seconds.

Eight... nine... ouch. She landed as her ten seconds ended. Rolling to her back, she sat up only to see three well-armed men wearing body armor aiming old-fashioned high-powered automatic rifles at her.

Death. She wasn't ready. Hands grabbed her roughly. The brutality of their grip caused her shock to turn into terror. She didn't scream or struggle. The raw panic kept her still. She was standing because those large hands hand pulled her to her feet.

"Run!"

She spun around and her breath hitched in her throat. He was glorious.

Roan of the Northlands, one of the sexiest men on TV, was rescuing her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward just as the first shot rang out. Dirt erupted next to her foot. "Go!"

 

 

About the Author

Ashlynn Monroe is a busy working mom. She loves her kids and family. Her greatest joy is creating stories to entertain others, and she hopes they bring a little more romance into the world. She's been writing since her teens for her own enjoyment but decided in her thirties to share her imagination with readers. Ashlynn enjoys biking, camping, reading, video games, and filling her home and life with love. If she's not working or chasing children, you can find her daydreaming up her next tale of romance.


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Wednesday, May 6, 2026

MFRW BOOK HOOKS - SINFULLY WICKED - Erotic Romance - Menage - Voyeurism - Dominance - Discipline - on AUDIBLE - #MFRWBookHooks #TinaDonahueBooks #EroticRomance #Menage #Voyeurism #Dominance #Discipline

 


Check them out for some seriously great reads!



SINFULLY WICKED
NOW ON AUDIBLE


Two brothers...

One woman...

Unforgettable passion.

 

Menage

Voyeurism

Dominance

Discipline

Alpha Heroes

 

Years before, Nikki fell in love with Mitch and Connor, betraying them as only a high school girl could. Now, she’s back and needs their help.

Powerful and commanding, Mitch has never stopped craving Nikki. Connor hungers for her as badly, but isn’t ready to forgive. If she needs some fast cash by working at their gentlemen’s club, she’ll have to audition by stripping for them.

Gladly. Aroused by their shameless scrutiny, Nikki’s willing to do whatever it takes to be near them again…even being punished in the BDSM Room or starring in one of Connor’s erotic films. Mitch won’t have it, unless he and Connor are the ones mounting and enjoying her.

On a sultry weekend in a secluded island mansion, desire reignites on camera and off as Nikki surrenders to their lust, dominance, and exquisite discipline, reawakening their timeless bond and the beginning of forgiveness.

 



PRAISE FOR SINFULLY WICKED

FIVE STARS - AMAZON REVIEWS

“Two men as powerless in her presence as she was in theirs.” - Redrabbit Reviews


Old betrayal and new hopes!Hope W

Great Story! - 
Sexy Sirens & Cajun Heat Book Blogs

HOT! - TS

TEASERS












Excerpt:

Nikki Blaine smelled of magnolia and musk, the mingling of helpless female and seductive predator. A curious combination, but who said she couldn’t be both?

Hell, she was a freaking mess. Her palms clammy from anxiety, her nipples tight with expectation. The kind a woman experiences when she’s about to be spanked, then hopefully laid…long and hard.

Yeah, right.

She paced the spacious office like a caged animal, her high heels clicking on the shiny hardwood floor, the sounds keeping time with her pounding pulse. No matter how much she needed it—and by God, she did—soul-stirring sex, followed by aching tenderness, wasn’t going to be on the menu this afternoon. Going to the men she’d betrayed years ago, brothers she’d truly loved, didn’t count as the smartest thing to do, but she needed their help.

Stopped at the burgundy leather sofa, she clutched the arm for support. According to the secretary here, Mr. Wade would be with her in a few minutes.

Nikki hadn’t bothered to ask which Mr. Wade the young woman had been talking about. She would have bet this room belonged to Mitch. Scented by leather and something woodsy, it was darkly masculine with rich mahogany walls, copper accent lamps topped by bronze-colored shades, and classic cherry furniture. Solid and imposing.

The desk was nearly as long as a bed and wide enough for two people, maybe three.

Don’t go there. She had no right. It wasn’t as though she could waltz in here after nearly fifteen years and expect Mitch to give her a hug or a welcome home fuck…if he showed up at all.

Where is he? Nearly a half hour had passed since his secretary had led Nikki inside. She hoped after Mitch’s initial shock had worn off about her being here, he hadn’t decided against seeing her. If so, she couldn’t blame him. He probably figured she’d behave as cruelly now as when they’d been in high school.

She circled the sofa and paused at framed news articles of him and Connor published in well-respected business magazines. Those pieces were intimately familiar to her. She’d read them when she lived in New York prior to her ex-husband’s arrest. Through the years, she’d followed Mitch and Connor’s many successes, wanting only the best for them.

Smiling softly, she touched the first photo taken outside Wicked, their wildly popular gentlemen’s club. The reason she was here today.

They had to say yes to her proposal. At the very least, they had to show upIf neither did, Nikki wasn’t certain what she’d do.

The glass recorded Mitch’s reflection behind her.

Her heart stalled.

He stood in the doorway to his office, bathed in gauzy light pouring in from the arched window. Beyond it, Atlanta moved at a far more sluggish pace than Manhattan ever had, today’s oppressive humidity forcing everything to an exaggerated Southern crawl.

In here, everything unfolded in slo-mo, except for her walloping heart.

She faced him for the first time in too long, needing to get her fill.

Oh, Mitch.

At six-three, he made the sprawling room seem small, his build lean yet muscular, no longer the lanky teen. Ruggedly handsome, he wore his thirty years well. Laugh lines graced the corners of his beautiful hazel eyes. They looked golden behind his sooty lashes, complementing his olive complexion. Combed away from his forehead, his chestnut colored hair was longish in the back and on the sides.

Nikki reined in her urge to run her fingers through his thick, wavy locks, to touch and smell him, her face buried in the hollow of his neck, her body pressed close, lost in his heat and strength. Protected at last. Home.

A preposterous notion that made it difficult for her to join him, impossible for her to speak, but still she hoped.

His gaze wasn’t guarded or indifferent as she’d feared. Wonder flooded his features, no different from when they’d been in her parents’ garage after their first kiss. She was fifteen then. He’d been a year older and seemed so worldly. Life hadn’t been easy for him or Connor. She’d fallen in love with both brothers, but Mitch had made the initial move.

They’d been horsing around that afternoon, mercilessly teasing each other. Mitch finally settled the score by tickling her into submission. Before Nikki could catch her breath or slug him, he brushed his lips against hers. Their velvety warmth surprised. His bristly cheeks thrilled. She’d wanted him to hold her in his arms forever. Later the same week, Connor kissed her. Nikki never wanted to leave his side.

There was no guilt for what they’d done. Both brothers accepted the other’s claim on her just as she had, treating it as needed and natural. For the most part, their relationship remained innocent. They were her dearest friends, like none she’d ever known.

Their bliss lasted three months, ending when school started in the fall.


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Tuesday, May 5, 2026

Versions of Nirvana - Magical Realism - and a Giveaway #MagicalRealism #Giveaway

H. C. Turk  is here to tell us about Versions of Nirvana, magical realism.

There's also a great giveaway.

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. H.C. Turk will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops at the tour.



In order to save her family, an 18th-century witch entertains suicide, thereby entering a coma-like trance that lasts 300 years. In this magical state, she reaches into the future to guide other people who long for redemption.

England, 1710. Young Alba knows she is a witch, but the term means nothing until her mother is executed for witchcraft. Then Alba enters a trance that causes everyone around her debilitating emotions, just like Alba’s. The trance, which is Alba’s magic, does not appear again until years later when her mentor is arrested and sentenced to death. Panicked, Alba stabs herself in the heart. Instead of dying, she enters a “false sleep” (coma), a state of spiritual consciousness. Hoping to find peace for others, she seeks similar souls in the future.

Germany, 1942: An American soldier is mortally wounded. In his final moment, he experiences the glory of a beautiful life, if only in his dreams. He enters a spiritual realm filled with warm family adventures, metaphysical escapades that are alternately hilarious and horrific, yet always lead away from anguish. Directed by Alba’s unseen influence, Andrew fights for solace, and wins.

Indonesia, 2003: A young American woman on a Western Pacific island must relive an ancient, tortuous journey through a primitive environment in order to redeem the foreigners in the country. Influenced by a power she can only sense in her heart (Alba), Connie seeks a solution of acceptance instead of rejection.

Told with humor and compassion, the heart of the book is the longing to find peace despite haunting failure, and finding joy in helping others achieve the same.


Read an Excerpt

When I was alive, I could not tell you what a train is, or would be. Now, I cannot tell you how I feel about transportation of this nature, a line of connected metal carriages driven by mechanisms like clockwork from beyond; and is that not the source of the future? When I was alive, I could not tell you what a train is, or would be. Now, I cannot tell you how I feel about transportation of this nature, a line of connected metal carriages driven by mechanisms like clockwork from beyond; and is that not the source of the future?

Neither can I tell you the nature of my testimony, though I praise the Deity that I can wield my influence into the lives of other people who deserve liberation. Unlike salvation, which comes from God, redemption comes from the heart.

“Liberation” is a goal of the associated horror ensconcing this era: “warfare,” the particular involved here not local, but global, the second of its kind, though not the last.

1945. How bigoted would I be to say that no witch is good at numbers? Germany. Once I was accused of being of that nationality, and now I virtually live there, with my virtual life.

In the distance, snowy, irregular mountain tops, not the Cambrian Mountains, but the Alps. Some brief words can be so fine.

An American draftee rides in a German Diesel locomotive with other stragglers. (Time is coming for me to absorb the meaning of these new terms and the ideas they represent without delineating their specifics: a nation that did not exist when I was alive, the massive machines, the murderous weapons. Beyond that, how close must one be to a person and their living in order to become a participant, not merely an observer?)

Neither can I tell you the nature of my testimony, though I praise the Deity that I can wield my influence into the lives of other people who deserve liberation. Unlike salvation, which comes from God, redemption comes from the heart.

“Liberation” is a goal of the associated horror ensconcing this era: “warfare,” the particular involved here not local, but global, the second of its kind, though not the last.

1945. How bigoted would I be to say that no witch is good at numbers? Germany. Once I was accused of being of that nationality, and now I virtually live there, with my virtual life.

In the distance, snowy, irregular mountain tops, not the Cambrian Mountains, but the Alps. Some brief words can be so fine.

An American draftee rides in a German Diesel locomotive with other stragglers. (Time is coming for me to absorb the meaning of these new terms and the ideas they represent without delineating their specifics: a nation that did not exist when I was alive, the massive machines, the murderous weapons. Beyond that, how close must one be to a person and their living in order to become a participant, not merely an observer?)

About the Author

H. C. Turk is a writer, sound artist, and visual artist. His novels have been published by Villard and Tor. His short fiction, sound pieces, movies, and visual art have appeared in numerous magazines, websites, podcasts, and film festivals. He used to paint houses (not as an art form.)


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Monday, May 4, 2026

Circus Bim Bom - A Cold War Adventure - Historical Fiction - Cold War Fiction - Romantic Subplots - and a Giveaway #HistoricalFiction #ColdWarFiction #ColdWarAdventure #RomanticSubplots #Giveaway

Cliff Lovette is here to tell us about Circus Bim Bom, a cold war adventure, historical fiction, cold war fiction, with romantic subplots.

There's also a great giveaway.

____________________

 


A Cold War Adventure


Historical Fiction/Cold War Fiction w/romance subplots

Date Published: 03-01-2026

Publisher: Bim Bom Books



There are no accidents in life, only opportunities wearing different clothes."

When the first privately owned Soviet circus arrived in 1990 America as the Soviet Empire unraveled, its elite performers expected to build cultural bridges through spectacular shows. Instead, this prestigious troupe faced a perilous journey through Cold War America.

Circus director Yuri had to navigate treacherous waters where American mobsters, Soviet agents, and political forces circled like predators. Young aerialist Anton dreamed of becoming a clown against his family's wishes, while forbidden romances and unexpected connections bloomed between Soviet performers and Americans who saw past the ideological divide. As high-stakes conspiracies threatened to tear the circus family apart, they had to choose between the authoritarian chains of home and the uncertain promise of freedom.

As The Ringmaster reminds us, "The best Soviet stories are like vodka—they burn with suffering, intoxicate with conflict, keep you stewing in reflection, and yearning for your heart's desire." This genre-bending tale explores whether human connection can transcend ideology—and whether storytelling can bridge the divides that separate us.



THE MOST FORBIDDEN DESIRE: What a Soviet Circus Taught Me About Writing Sensuality 

A Guest Post by Cliff Lovette, Author of Circus Bim Bom: A Cold War Adventure

 
Let me be honest with you, Tina — and with your readers — right from the start.

Circus Bim Bom is not erotica. It is a Cold War historical adventure novel with four romantic arcs, a fourth-wall-breaking narrator who calls himself The Ringmaster, and enough political intrigue, mob entanglements, and comedic chaos to keep a circus tent standing. If you came here expecting explicit content, I owe you the truth: the most daring scene in my book is what I’d call soft sensual — by your readers’ standards, probably a warm-up act.

So why am I writing a guest post for one of erotic romance’s most celebrated blogs?

Because desire, repression, and the courage to defy both are exactly what my book is about. And I suspect your readers understand those stakes better than anyone.



The Kittens and Their Keeper

In 1990, when Circus Bim Bom — the first privately owned Soviet circus — arrived in America, the young female performers in the troupe were not traveling alone. They were traveling under the iron supervision of Dominika Volkov, a stern Party-appointed chaperone the women had nicknamed, with no small amount of dark humor, The Führer.

Dominika ran bed checks. She swept hotel corridors. She monitored who the women spoke to, danced with, looked at. She referred to her charges as her “Kittens” — a term that said everything about how Soviet authority viewed them: as creatures to be herded, kept tame, and shielded from the contaminating influences of Western freedom. Her mission, as I wrote it, was “a crusade to preserve her Kittens’ purity against Western decadence — particularly men.”

The Führer was not a caricature. She was a system. She was the embodiment of a Soviet state that had, since Stalin codified it in 1934, made the regulation of human sexuality a matter of criminal law. Soviet anti-sodomy statutes remained on the books until 1993 — three years after this story takes place. The state’s reach into private life extended far beyond those laws. Sexual desire — particularly female desire — was treated as a threat to ideological purity, something to be rationed, policed, punished.

For a twenty-five-year-old Soviet aerialist named Raisa Lagolov, America was not just a new country. It was a door she had never been allowed to open.



King Kong. I Like.

Raisa is not a passive character. From the first page she shares with John Stagliano — whose porn star nickname is “Stallion,” a former UCLA-trained dancer with a complicated inner life and a dangerous uncle — she is the one making moves. She blocks his path on the tour bus with an outstretched leg. She meets his gaze with a dimpled smile and purrs, in Russian, “King Kong. I like.”

Stallion is instantly, helplessly caught. He is also, objectively, the wrong man. His Uncle Joe is a capo in a Las Vegas crime syndicate. His world is not Raisa’s world. That’s intentional. I wasn’t interested in writing a tidy romance. I wanted to put Raisa’s desire up against its most dangerous possible test.

Their courtship unfolds across language barriers — through translated letters and doodled drawings, a moonlit motorcycle ride on a machine Raisa had never been allowed to touch, and a waltz on a spinning carousel where letting go means being flung off entirely. Every moment together is an act of rebellion.


The Tightrope I Walked

As a debut novelist, I spent a long time wrestling with a single scene near the end of the book. It is, in my estimation, the culmination of everything Raisa’s arc has been building toward — her desire, her defiance, and the consequences of both.

I chose to frame it through the eyes of The Ringmaster and, by extension, the reader. You are not inside the scene. You are standing in a dim dormitory hallway, looking through a cracked door. You didn’t plan to be there. And now you’re not sure you should stay.

What you witness is Raisa dancing alone in front of a full-length mirror, to the dance music of the 1950s and ’60s — the Twist, the Pony, the Watusi — songs that seem corny now but were considered scandalously naughty when they first exploded across American Bandstand. Raisa learned these dances as a teenager from smuggled videotapes. She is not facing you. You see only her reflection, and occasionally what the mirror reveals.

I wanted readers to feel what I felt writing it: a mixture of voyeuristic pull and genuine moral discomfort. I wanted them to ask themselves whether they should stay. I walked a deliberate tightrope between sensual and sensational — I did not want it to be purely erotic. I wanted it to mean something. 

Based on the early reviews, readers understood exactly what I was aiming for. One reviewer wrote that she was reeling from the scene long after it ended.

I don’t know if that’s erotica. I know it’s desire. And desire — the kind that has been locked up, legislated against, chaperoned, and denied — is the most powerful force I know how to write.

Circus Bim Bom: A Cold War Adventure is available now. Get the Author’s Edition paperback at books.by/bim-bom-books, or find it on Amazon. Explore the world at bimbombookclub.com.

 


About the Author

 

 Cliff Lovette is a father, storyteller, and dog lover living in Sandy Springs, Georgia. For over 40 years, he practiced entertainment law, serving as Senior Vice President at LaFace Records and representing artists including Usher and Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes. His passion for bridging historical divides led him to co-produce a groundbreaking reconciliation event between descendants of Buffalo Soldiers and Lakota Native Americans. In 1990, when Bobby Liberman—road manager for the first privately owned Soviet circus touring America—became his client, Cliff discovered the true story that inspired this debut duology.


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TikTok: @ringmaster606

YouTube: @TheRingmaster-n7y


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Author's Edition 

books.by/bim-bom-books 

The Author's Edition comes with:

• Signed bookplate

• Digital circus poster

• Charter Bim Bom Book Club Membership

• Exclusive access to "Rabbit Hole" chapters


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