Sarah Branson is here to tell us about This is Halloween, A Blue Spruce Hills Novella, contemporary romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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This is Halloween
Sarah Branson
(A Blue Spruce Hills Novella)
Publication date: September 17th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Midwife. Halloween. A Pennsylvania hill town. A ghost with an agenda. A historian with patient eyes.
Jules Lockwood, nurse-midwife and family nurse practitioner, wants two years of loan forgiveness and a one-way ticket to Australia. Her obstacle: a town that keeps finding reasons to need her.
Eli Matthews, Blue Spruce Hills town historian, is the kind of man who came back when it mattered and stayed. He brings coffee every morning without being asked.
Agnes Bell, midwife, 1856 to 1931, has been waiting in Blue Spruce Hills since her death for the right pair of hands to pass her work to. She has found them. She is not subtle about it.
On Halloween night, when the veil between past and present is at its thinnest, everything Jules came to Blue Spruce Hills to avoid arrives at once.
This Is Halloween delivers the satisfaction of a woman choosing herself and her work on her own terms, a slow-burn romance that earns every moment, and a ghost story that will make you wish you could have known Agnes Bell.
• small town romance
• ghost mentor
• found community
• slow burn
• woman finding home
• past and present collide
• reluctant to stay
• Halloween setting
• professional woman romance
• haunted by the past (literal)
• second chance at belonging
Heat level: closed door
Series: Blue Spruce Hills, Book 1 — standalone, complete story, no cliffhanger
POV: third person limited, Jules
Tense: past
Setting: small Pennsylvania town, October through May
Comp titles: The House in the Cerulean Sea; Beach Read; A Discovery of Witches
Content notes: pregnancy and birth depicted (clinical, not graphic); brief mention of historical pregnancy loss (off-page); deployment/absent spouse (minor character)
Juliet “Jules” Lockwood had sworn exactly six times since leaving the highway and crossing the Blue Spruce Hills town line. All six had been silent. All six had been necessary.
She pulled her Subaru into the gravel lot beside the Blue Spruce Hills Community Clinic and sat there longer than necessary, hands wrapped around the steering wheel like the car might attempt escape without her. Outside, the October sky was an intense blue with a few white clouds scudding across it. A carved pumpkin grinned from the clinic’s front step. Orange lights shaped like leaves were looped around the porch railing. Just up the street, a plastic skeleton swung from a telephone pole, rotating haphazardly in the wind.
Jules stared at the skeleton. The skeleton appeared to stare back.
She opened the car door, stepped out onto the gravel, closed her eyes, and took a deep inhale. Wood smoke and baked goods, harvest-sweet with cinnamon and nutmeg. It was, Jules thought grimly, aggressively charming. She took a step and nearly collided with a man holding a cardboard tray of coffee.
“Oh! Sorry!” he said, immediately steadying both the tray and her elbow with equal care. He was tall and laid back, with dark hair that the wind had done something unrequested to and kind brown eyes, soft and patient, the sort of eyes that suggested the person behind them listened when you talked. He wore a canvas jacket the color of cedar bark and was smiling with the easy confidence of someone who had nowhere to be and was fine with that. “You must be Jules.”
She froze. This was… unfortunate. Because those eyes were going to be a problem. She recognized his type immediately, the way one would recognize a load-bearing wall, structural and quiet, that the whole room organizes itself around without anyone quite noticing. Those eyes reflected the sort of steadiness that belonged to men who stayed. She had believed that about someone once. Believed it comprehensively and inconveniently, and at considerable personal expense. Never again.
“I’m Eli Matthews,” he said, and held out the coffee tray. “Town historian and unofficial town greeter. I brought options. Decaf, regular, and one with oat milk, because the clinic called ahead and…” he paused, reconsidering his own sentence, “okay, I asked Margaret at the post office, who asked Clara at the bakery, who said she had heard that you’d mentioned oat milk to someone at the gas station in Lehighton.”
Jules stared at the tray. “That’s a significant intelligence operation for a cup of coffee.”
He smiled, a little sheepishly. “Small town. We have patterns.” He glanced at the pumpkin on the porch. “Also, it’s October. We take hospitality seriously in October.”
She reached for the oat milk coffee. Behind her, someone cleared their throat very distinctly — the throat-clearing of someone who had been waiting a respectable amount of time and was now done waiting. Jules’s hand tightened around the cup.
She recognized that sound. She knew it the way she knew a change in barometric pressure, in her teeth, at the base of her skull, in the specific cold that moved along her spine when something was present that had no business being present.
Absolutely not. I am not doing ghosts again.
She turned slowly.
Author Bio:
Award-winning feminist speculative fiction author Sarah Branson spent close to thirty years as a midwife before turning to fiction, writing tales of action, adventure, revenge, and romance rooted in the strength and resiliency of the human spirit. Her New Earth universe imagines a future where diversity of identity is simply the texture of life, with honors including the 2022 Kindle Book Award for science fiction, the 2025 Wishing Shelf Book Award Gold Medal for A Pirates' Pact, and a Foreword Indie Award Honorable Mention for For the Love of Glitter. Her two newest releases expand beyond New Earth: This Is Halloween, a cozy women's fiction novella in the Blue Spruce Hills series (September 17, 2026), and Life Ends, Love Remains: A Revolutionary Ghost Story, a literary paranormal novel set in Ridgefield, Connecticut (early October 2026). Sarah lives with her husband in Connecticut.
Marteeka Karland is here to tell us about Inferno, Kiss of Death #18, MC romance.
Read on for details...
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Kiss of Death MC (#18)
MC Romance
Date Published: September 18, 2026
Publisher: Changeling Press
I survived the fire. Juniper gives me a reason to burn down the world.
Juniper -- Getting dumped on my twenty-first birthday is bad enough. Finding
Brett, my ex, at Throttle with another woman turns humiliation into open
warfare. So I walk up to the biggest, meanest looking biker in the place,
climb into his lap, and claim him as mine. Inferno plays along a little too
well, and one reckless kiss becomes the hottest night of my life. Still, it
was just a one night stand. Should have ended then and there. Instead, my ex
decides he doesn’t like losing what he threw away. His calls become
threats, then the threats become violence. My bakery, my home, everything my
grandmother left me becomes a target. But Brett’s forgotten one thing.
I’m not alone anymore. I have Inferno, Kiss of Death, and a fire of my
own.
Inferno -- Juniper lands in my lap wearing red lipstick, motorcycle boots, and
enough attitude to wake something in me I thought died years ago. She’s
way too young for me, and a woman running from a controlling ex is trouble. I
also know the second Brett puts a bruise on her skin, he becomes my problem. I
went to prison for nearly killing a man who hurt a woman I loved. I’ll
burn my life down before I let history repeat itself. But Juniper isn’t
looking for a savior. She wants a partner willing to stand beside her while
she fights back. Good thing I’ve always liked playing with fire.
Brett’s about to learn exactly why they call me Inferno.
WARNING: Adult language and situations, abuse, arson, and a violent stalker
ex-boyfriend.
The sad little grocery store cake sitting on my counter summed up my life
right now. I made cakes for a living, so I knew exactly what I was looking at.
Shortening-based buttercream, whipped too fast so it held those little air
pockets that collapsed if you pressed a finger in. Red gel piping simply said
“Happy Birthday” and skipped my name entirely, because a name is
an upcharge, and, apparently, I wasn’t worth the extra four dollars.
Twenty-one candles would’ve cost more too. There were no candles.
That morning I’d spent six hours at my own shop building a dinosaur cake
for a five-year-old named Milo. The creation had hand-piped scales on a
fondant T-rex while his mom hovered by the register asking if I could make the
teeth “less scary, but still cool.” I believed, the whole time I
worked, that tonight would be mine. That somebody would finally build me
something special for my birthday.
I closed the shop two hours early. Cooked pork chops with the mustard cream
sauce that Brett loves so much. I set the good plates from his mother that I
was always terrified I’d chip.
He’d come in forty minutes late, jacket still buttoned like he
hadn’t decided if he was staying, studying his phone like it held the
secrets of the universe. “You would not believe this lake
listing,” he said, dropping into his chair, not even glancing my way.
“Guy wants two point one for a place that’s basically standing on
a septic field. I told him, I said, ‘Gary, I can sell water to a
drowning man, but I can’t sell delusion’.” He laughed at his
own line. I simply looked at him, trying to talk myself into being cheerful.
I cut into my chop and waited for a gap in his running monologue. “So I
made this dinosaur cake today,” I said, “for this kid, Milo, and
his mom wanted the teeth less scary but still --”
“Yeah, that reminds me, Gary’s brother-in-law does teeth,
actually, orthodontist, and get this --” and he was off again, and I
just… let him go on. Because why not? I picked my fork back up and took
a bite while he rambled on. He still hadn’t told me happy birthday.
His phone buzzed and he glanced down before turning it over. After a while, it
buzzed again.
“Hey,” I said, and I tried to keep it light, “We said no
phones tonight. Right?”
He didn’t answer right away as color swept his neck to his face and a
flash of annoyance crossed his features. Then he gave me a “sorry for
you” smile. “Junie,” he said, setting his fork down
carefully. “Can I say something, and I need you to just hear it, not
react to it?”
“Um, sure.” My stomach started to roll. I recognized his tone and
I knew this would be a twenty-first birthday I’d rather forget.
“You’re a lot,” he said, simply. “I don’t mean
that as an insult. You’re needy in a way you probably don’t even
realize. Phones-away requests, the whole birthday production, the plates.
It’s a lot of ask-for, given we’re barely even in a
relationship.” He cleared his throat. “And you’re emotional.
Everything’s a whole thing with you. I can’t mention anything
without you needing your turn.”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t form words. My throat tightened with
emotion, and I could feel tears forming behind my eyes.
“And I’ll be honest,” he continued, “because I think
you’d rather I was honest, you’re kind of boring, Junie. Same
shop, same recipes, same everything. Your five-year plan is a second oven. I
used to think that was cute, but I thought you’d grow out of it once you
ran out of money and got a real job. I don’t think it’s cute
anymore. I need a woman with a little ambition. I’m going places, and
you’re… not. Dinosaur cake? Really, Junie?”
Somewhere deep inside me, a voice was screaming, actually screaming, say
something, say anything, throw the water glass, throw a pork chop at him, ask
him who’s texting him at eight-fifteen on your birthday, and what came
out of my mouth, soft and stupid, was, “The pork chops are getting
cold.”
“Juniper. I think we both know this has been coming.”
I looked down at my plate so he wouldn’t see my eyes. I didn’t
trust what my face was doing. No way was I going to give him the satisfaction.
I forced the smallest shrug I could manage.
He pushed his chair back, slow and deliberate, like he wanted me to watch
every little thing. “Look, Junie, you’re a great girl. You really
are. But we’re just not… compatible.” He wiped his mouth
with his napkin. “It’s not the end of the world. You’ll land
on your feet. I mean, you already have your little cake shop, right?”
Wow. My little cake shop. The business I’d thrown every ounce of blood,
sweat, and tears I had into. The fact was, I cleared more with my
“little cake shop” than he made with his real estate ventures. I
suspected it was the same smarmy personality I initially fell for. Unlike me,
apparently his clients knew how to cut their losses and get the fuck out of
Dodge.
“I guess so,” I said, because what else was there? I stabbed a
piece of pork chop and chewed it, even though I could barely swallow, doing my
best to act as if none of this had any effect on me.
His phone buzzed again. He actually reached for it this time. “I’m
going to head out. I’ve got to call Gary back before he does something
stupid on that listing.” He didn’t even look at me. Just stood up,
fixed his jacket, and checked his hair in the microwave door reflection.
“I’ll send someone to get my stuff later.” The door clicked
shut behind him as he left.
I went to the counter where the little birthday cake rested when the sticker
on the side caught my attention. The damned thing was on clearance! He’d
bought me a generic birthday cake on clearance because it had passed its
freshness date.
For a minute I just stood there, stomach clenched tight in the heavy silence.
Anger was slow in coming. Even when it did the feeling was directed more at
myself than Brett. I chose to stay with him for whatever reason I had at any
given time. So as much as Brett was a bastard, this disastrous birthday was as
much my fault as it was his. I should never have agreed to let him move in
with me. My only excuse is I was young and bought all his flattering.
We’d been together for two and a half years. I was right out of high
school and just taking over my grandmother’s bakery after her sudden
death. Brett had helped me through one of the most difficult times in my life,
but I suspected now he’d taken up with me because I was an easy target.
After all, he’d been living rent-free in what had been my
grandmother’s apartment since a month or so after we met.
The window over the sink stared back at me. This was my twenty-first birthday,
Goddamnit! What did one do on their twenty-first birthday? Get schnozzled and
burn the world down. At least I’d burn down my old life. Then I could
rise like a phoenix from the ashes. Or something.
I pushed away from the sink and headed to my bedroom. Going to the closet, I
pulled out the red dress I’d bought especially for tonight. The red was
probably too bright, but I didn’t want subtle. I wanted the color and
all the lovely brightness and chaos it might cause under the right
circumstances.
I showered and did my hair and makeup before slipping the silky dress over my
head, letting it settle over my hips to brush against the middle of my thighs.
I zipped up the back, then smoothed the sleeveless garment over my curves. I
let my hand run down my arm, tracing the small, faded burn scars from my
childhood. Brett said I should get them lasered -- so I wouldn’t be
reminded of my broken childhood. I suspected the real reason he wanted rid of
them was because they didn’t fit in with his image of what he wanted me
to be. Well, fuck that shit.
The red lipstick came last. Again, I’d chosen it specially to match the
dress. I drew it on slowly, even though my hand shook a little. Lipstick had
always been my armor. I had nicely shaped lips. They were my best feature, in
my opinion. The dramatic color only enhanced them. I smiled into the mirror,
wide and mean, red as a warning label.
I started to slide my feet into the Fuck Me heels I’d purchased --
again, specifically for this dress. Then I caught a glimpse of my motorcycle
boots. I’d bought them when Brett decided he wanted to get a motorcycle.
He’d taken me on exactly one ride, saying I didn’t know how to
ride with him and I would get us both killed if I moved the wrong way.
He’d never bothered to tell me what exactly I was doing wrong, so fuck
him anyway. On a whim, I stuffed my feet into the boots and took a look at
myself in the mirror. I didn’t quite look like Alice from Resident Evil,
but it was close enough I’d take it.
Throttle was less than a mile away. The bar was a known roughneck place, but
any damage caused by patrons always seemed to be contained to the property
itself and didn’t spill over into nearby neighborhoods. Though it had a
questionable reputation, I’d always wanted to go, thinking living on the
wild side held just the appeal I wanted.
About the Author
Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double
life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife
by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in
spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable
heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful
ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are
speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined
with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a
sigh from her readers.
Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.
CB Samet is here to tell us about Olympian Awakenings Trilogy, Greek mythology, urban fantasy romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Cursed as children.
Empowered as adults.
Now, they’ve been summoned to stop a force older than the
gods themselves.
Stone Hearts
Olympian Awakenings Trilogy Book 1
by CB Samet
Genre: Greek Mythology Urban Fantasy Romance
Madison was cursed to
destroy with a glance—until a prophecy calls her to fight beside the one man
who sees through her walls… and into her heart.
Cursed to turn the living to stone, Madison has spent her
life avoiding others—until a prophecy drags her to Greece to join a team of
strangers to help stop an ancient evil. Among them, she meets Rex, a
battle-scarred archaeologist with the power to heal and secrets of his own.
Together, they must survive deadly skirmishes, outwit
mythical creatures, and recover the Armor of Achilles from the heart of
Daedalus’ labyrinth.
The deeper they go, the more the maze twists not just the
path, but their minds.
Failure isn't an option. Succeeding might cost them
everything.
Magic. Monsters. A
love forged in fire. The battle is only beginning.
When a titan’s power
surges, mortals pay the price—and the Olympians must answer the call.
Layla, Tyler, and the other Olympians are thrust on a
perilous quest across the Mediterranean and into the sunken heart of Atlantis
to reclaim Poseidon’s trident. Their sea voyage is fraught with danger with
deadly monsters and diabolical magic at every turn. Only by learning to
trust—and love—each other can they hope to survive.
Layla’s storm powers are tied to her heart, and to master
them, she must first confront the emotions she’s spent years guarding. Tyler, a
shapeshifter whose might can rival the fiercest beasts, may be the key to her
control—but breaking through the walls around her heart won’t be easy. Their
past mistakes still linger, and some wounds run too deep for even the strongest
powers to heal.
Adventure, danger, and passion collide in this electrifying
continuation of the Olympian Awakens series.
A titan is rising. And this time, the world may not
survive.
Fire-wielder Zoey has spent her life afraid of her own
power. Ancient soldier Alexios has spent centuries believing he was nothing
more than a weapon. Together, they’ve survived monsters, gods, and impossible
quests—but nothing prepares them for Kronos’s final move.
As fractures tear open between worlds, monsters pour into
the mortal realm and the boundary between life and death begins to collapse.
When a desperate sacrifice strands Zoey in the Underworld itself, ancient
warrior Alexios must defy gods, fate, and death to bring her home—before she
loses her memories… and herself.
The final battle will demand everything from all six
champions who have fought side by side: fire and storm, stone and steel,
courage, sacrifice, and unbreakable trust.
Because defeating a Titan will take more than power.
It will take a family forged in battle—and two souls willing
to burn for each other and the world they refuse to lose.
The explosive
conclusion to the Olympian Awakenings trilogy delivers epic Greek mythology,
found family, and a sweeping romantic finale where love and legend collide.
Zoey has always felt the burn of something more beneath her
skin—an untamed fire that refuses to be extinguished. After years of hiding her
power, she’s finally found belonging and a chance to be normal… as a stunt
double on a Hollywood set.
Layla is the picture of grace and fame, a star with a global
following. But behind the camera, she’s hiding a dangerous secret: she can
control the weather.
When a monstrous creature straight from myth attacks during
filming, Zoey and Layla are forced to reveal their powers—and discover they’re
not alone. Chosen by ancient forces, bound by a forgotten legacy, the two women
must join forces to face a truth that will shatter everything they thought they
knew.
Because the world is on the brink of chaos.
And this is only the beginning.
Christina is a four-time award winning author in thriller,
romantic suspense, and fantasy. She is a mother of two energetic boys. She
is a lover of suspense, adventure, and happy endings. She writes action and
adventure in fantasy, thrillers, and romantic suspense genres. Her novels have
empowered women overcoming powerful obstacles and the strong men who support
them.
Favoritequote, ‘She needed a hero. So she became
one.’ --Robin Reed
Autumn Montague is here to tell us about Salva Me, an LGBTQ+ Regency vampire romance.
Read on for details...
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LGBTQ+ Regency Vampire Romance
Date Published: September 11, 2026
England, 1816. A nosferatu, a rogue vampire, hunts unchecked through
Sussex. Jeremy Takeshi Colbourne is honor-bound by ancestral duty to find and
destroy such madmen. Foremost among the vampires of England, he must find a
way to ensure the safety of the English citizens and the vampires that live
among them.
Then Jeremy and his blood-host Morgan Holland discover a brutally savaged
girl. With this latest victim of the nosferatu, Jeremy realizes the time has
come to make Morgan aware of the Colbourne responsibilities. But the situation
could not have come at a worse time.
For years, Morgan has served as Jeremy's blood-host. Though Morgan adheres
faithfully to his Contracted terms, he refuses to surrender to the sexual
seduction that completes each feeding. He yields neither his body nor his
heart, though Jeremy yearns for both.
As the nosferatu's atrocities grow, Jeremy must ask everything of Morgan to
gain the strength needed to fight the ravening monster. Will Morgan relent and
give up body and heart to help Jeremy defeat their enemy, or will the battle
destroy them both?
EXCERPT
Jeremy cursed at the knock on the oaken door of his study. Morgan had
attempted to corner him several times today. Pure cowardice had driven Jeremy
to take refuge here, a place his loyal Host rarely intruded on, since it held
the Buddhist shrine housing his mother’s mortuary tablet. He glanced at
the portrait standing behind the black stone, wishing for a bit of Keiko
Yamakawa’s legendary strength.
Evading Morgan had taken a toll on Jeremy. The Contracted day for his feeding
had come and gone. Today marked two full weeks since Morgan had wrenched
himself from Jeremy’s grasp, nearly bleeding to death before Jeremy
could administer the requisite clotting agent. The sight of Morgan’s
injuries had seared itself into Jeremy’s mind, rendering him unwilling
to risk another such incident.
It almost made him wish to return to Japan, despite the difficulties involved.
Obtaining the necessary dispensation from the Tokugawa Shogunate had been hard
enough when he left. Lord Matsumae had done what he could, but it had taken
his mother’s personal attendance on Emperor Kōkaku and an appropriate
gift to Tokugawa Ikeharu to get it done. Going back would be far worse,
despite his home’s exemption from the Sakoku Edict. Even so, he was
tempted. If only to avoid what he now faced.
The knock came again, harder than before, followed immediately by the entrance
of Morgan Holland. “Excuse me, Lord Colbourne. While I am always loath
to disturb you in your sanctum, you cannot avoid me forever.”
Exasperation filled Morgan’s voice, underscored by heavy concern.
Jeremy risked a glance at his Host, unwilling to see but drawn nonetheless.
The wounds on Morgan’s neck had healed; his skin flushed a healthy hue.
Unlike usual feedings, the last one had left two ragged scars, visible
reminders of Jeremy’s lack of control. Even now, the remnants of
Morgan’s refusal echoed in his mind, invading his dreams.
“I am not convinced you are well enough to support a feeding,
Holland,” he hedged, though his Host showed no lingering signs of ill
effects. “Your wounds have barely healed.”
Morgan sighed. “I understand your reluctance after the debacle last
time, but you cannot risk your health or your sanity by some idiotic attempt
at endurance. I am prepared to meet my Contracted terms without qualms.”
“So you say. Nonetheless, your refusal made quite an impression.
I’d prefer not to endure that again so soon.”
Morgan’s cheeks heated with angry embarrassment. “Then break
Contract, my lord, and find someone more willing to accommodate all of your
needs. Or go back to Japan.”
The slap of the words felt like a further refusal. Jeremy straightened in his
chair, denying the spike of pain, determined to retain his rationality. Fear
was anathema to the Barons of Colbourne and to the Yamakawa family. Being
afraid to feed on his Contracted Host shamed both houses. He stood, feeling
the weakness of flesh from self-deprivation.
“After twelve years? I’d rather not, thank you. You’re all I
need. Or want.” Jeremy considered the irony of his irrational thoughts
mere moments before. “It is far harder to return than to leave,”
he added. “While my home in Matsumae is exempt from the Sakoku Edict,
only my status as a noble Chi no Kami allowed me to leave in the first place.
I have no wish to reverse the process any time soon.”
Morgan considered for a moment and then gave him the ghost of a smile.
“Then please stop delaying the inevitable. Despite what happened before,
I refuse to watch you kill yourself, however noble your ancestors may have
found the practice. It would render all my efforts worthless.”
“Such things are not reserved for my ancestors,” Jeremy growled.
“If I chose seppuku, who would be my second? You’d still have to
watch me die.”
“At least it would not be this slow death you’re attempting
now.”
Trust Morgan to know him well enough to hit so close to the truth of the
matter. Jeremy allowed silence to reign for a moment and then gave a grudging
chuckle. “No quarter, I see. You win, Holland. Give me two hours, and
I’ll meet you in the sanguis cubiculum.”
Two hours would give Jeremy sufficient time to contact William Carter. After
this long, the sexual urges would be difficult to suppress, but he could not
afford another mistake like the last time.
Morgan nodded to him. “Two hours, then, Lord Colbourne. I will be
ready.”
* * *
At the appointed time, Morgan waited as instructed, nervous despite his
earlier words to Colbourne. He touched the scars on his neck gingerly,
wondering. For all his bravado and calm facade, the thought of facing
Colbourne’s fangs disturbed him. That last bite had driven into his neck
without preparation, the savage sting a hint of what mankind had faced in the
early days of the nosferii. Yet beyond the pain, another sensation had lurked,
one he was reluctant to recall.
Perhaps it was only the remnants of the lust that rose in him every time
Colbourne fed, but the agony of the unprepared bite had seemed to turn into a
hazy pleasure at the end, before he’d passed out. Perhaps the
recollection was only some perverse blending of his memories.
Colbourne entered the sanguis cubiculum through the far door. Morgan caught a
brief glimpse of another person before the closing door blocked his view.
So he arranged for his companion to be available immediately after he is
finished with me.
In spite of the obvious benefits to the situation, the idea irritated Morgan
for some reason. Though he refused to offer up his body for postfeed sex,
he’d always steadfastly ignored Colbourne’s subsequent retreat to
his rooms for several hours. To have that person here, in the antechambers of
the sanguis cubiculum, the mere thought left a burning ache in Morgan’s
gut. This was his domain, his sacred trust, no one else’s.
“Are you ready, Holland?”
The deeply sensuous voice rippled over Morgan’s skin, bringing him to a
half-aroused state before the feeding started. He did his utmost to quash the
reaction, trying vainly to focus on something other than Colbourne’s
mouth.
A hand reached for his chin, gently turning his face away to expose the length
of his neck.
“I’m sorry, Morgan,” Colbourne whispered.
Morgan felt the faintest tremble in his master’s hand. He turned his
head the opposite direction, offering the undamaged side. “Here,
Master,” he urged, “feed from here.”
Colbourne’s tongue touched him gently, tracing a line across his skin
before stopping. “No, I think not,” he said, trailing his fingers
past Morgan’s throat. “I’d rather feed from a different
source today. Your neck is still healing.”
Morgan shivered as his master’s hand roamed down his front, then stroked
along the inside of his thigh.
About the Author
Autumn grew up loving history, mythology, and all things Japanese, not
necessarily in that order. This eclectic love affair has bled over into her
writing, and her stories are always well spiced with the taste of Japan,
strange mythological beasties, or the lords and ladies of the ton. Sometimes
all three, leading to dark desires and forbidden loves.
And after all, dangerous passions should lead to uninhibited love.
Robert Milne is here to tell us about Turtle Lake, The Wild Card Syndrome, thriller-suspense.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Crime Thriller / Suspense
Date Published: 09-07-2026
Publisher: Mission Point Press
Turtle Lake is a gripping tale of revenge, survival, and the intricate
interplay between human nature and the natural world. The story follows Jim
Peters, the comptroller at Ramsey Motors, who uncovers a corrupt scheme by the
company and its insurer, U.S. Underwriters, to defraud employees of their
retirement and insurance benefits before moving operations overseas.
Infuriated, he devises an elaborate extortion plan to expose their corruption
and protect the employees through a spectacular plot that ends up achieving
national headlines. To accomplish his plan, Peters uses simple, everyday
methods and lessons learned from alpha predators in the natural world.
About the Author
Bob Milne has been hailed throughout his 60-year career as one of the
best ragtime/boogie-woogie piano players of all time. A solo concert
performer, he traveled all over the world playing for dignitaries and
celebrities as well as small town audiences. He was given the title of
National Treasure by the Library of Congress and deemed an Ambassador of Music
by the U.S. Department of State.
Bob’s extraordinary musical abilities were the subject of numerous brain
studies, which have inspired a popular RadioLab podcast.
Little did they know that Bob was also a talented writer.
For years he wrote articles about his saloon-playing days for music
publications. Many of these stories were compiled into a book called The
Journeyman Piano Player: Adventures in Gracious Dining. Bob has written reams
of poetry, some of which became lyrics to songs that he composed. The longest
piece of poetry he ever wrote was the lyric book for The Legend of Sleepy
Hollow, a grand opera he composed and orchestrated.
Mr. Milne has been fascinated by nature his entire life. At a young age he
realized that instincts are present in all species of birds, mammals
(including humans), and literally every living thing in nature. He has used
this information countless times over his lifetime to predict what the human
species will do in future situations.
Bob is now retired from the long piano tours and is enjoying his woodland
home. Today he spends his time studying nature in the woods. Signed copies of
his book may be purchased through his website.
Megan Linski is here to tell us about My Best Four Years, contemporary, new adult, young adult.
There's also a great giveaway.
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My Best Four Years
Megan Linski
Publication date: September 11th 2026
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Young Adult
USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Megan Linski paints a hallmark to grief in this story of a heartbreaking best friend break up that’s emotionally unforgettable.
Aria and Lucky are two best friends who managed to survive high school, though not everyone did. They live in a small town that’s determined to destroy everyone’s dreams, but when they’re together, the two girls soar. The adults in their lives swear there’s no way out of their tiny hometown, but Aria and Lucky promise each other they’re going to run away together, believing the music they make is going to change the world.
Until one of them leaves, and the other stays. Aria finds herself looking back on her past, struggling to find where she belongs in a place that wishes to stomp out her light. Lucky’s rise and fall is brighter than a supernova, dazzling and destroying whatever it touches.
Then the unthinkable happens, and their friendship is left in the remnants of what comes after.
Lucky promised Aria forever. But forever turns out to be far shorter than either of them thought it could be.
An honest, endearing novel, My Best Four Years is a devastating portrayal of the power of unconditional friendship, and the loss that is felt when those we love are left behind.
“Are you ready for this?” Lucky asked. The rhinestones on her guitar glimmered as she slipped the strap over her shoulder. We were behind a curtain that led to the small stage of a local bar, where a dozen patrons clattered about. We’d been selected as the headlining act for a band that played regularly on Friday nights, and we were so nervous.
Lucky’s face was pale white. I was sure mine looked the same. Our first live show. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“It’s our time,” I said confidently. “Let’s get out there.”
The curtain was pulled aside, and we strode on stage in unison as the announcer introduced us. I took my stance at the keyboard, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
We started off strong, and got an enthusiastic response from the crowd during the first song. The next song was a little shaky, but the longer we played, the more confident we became, until we’d nearly gone through every song we’d created. The crowd was really getting into the music.
As I played the keyboard, somebody caught my eye from the corner of the bar. The most handsome man I’d ever seen was leaning on the counter. He might’ve been a few years older than I was. I was absolutely captivated by his appearance, so much so that I nearly missed a note on the melody.
When I met his blue eyes, he gave me a smile. I bashfully looked down when we finished the song, and we went to take a bow as we wrapped up the show. The applause in the room was so loud, I could hardly hear myself think. The curtain was drawn, and I felt shaky on my feet as I realized we’d actually done it. We’d pulled off our first performance!
“That was amazing!” Lucky cheered. “I loved every minute! The lights, the stage! It made me feel so alive!”
“It was incredible,” I gushed. “I’m so proud of us, Lucky!”
I gave her a squealing hug. We cheerfully hopped off stage, then headed to the bar to get a drink. People clapped us on the back and congratulated us as we walked through the bar, thanking us for the performance.
While we were sipping on virgin cocktails, Lucky’s phone rang. She picked it up, a huge smile spread across her face. “Hello, Carla! Yeah, we just got done! It was amazing. I wish you were here to see it…”
Her words trailed off. The smile slid off Lucky’s face. After a few moments, she nodded, and hung up the phone with a vacant gaze.
“It’s Carla,” she said. “She’s in the parking lot waiting to pick me up. She says we have to talk.”
Author Bio:
Megan Linski is a USA TODAY Bestselling Author who lives in Michigan. She is the author of more than sixty fantasy and paranormal novels which feature themes of friendship, community, and healthy romantic relationships. She has over fifteen years of experience writing books alongside working as a journalist and editor. She graduated from the University of Iowa, where she studied Creative Writing.
Her passions include ice skating and horseback riding. In her free time she enjoys dancing in the snow and drinking fancy coffee while at her natural habitat, the mall.
Megan advocates for the rights of the disabled, and is an activist for mental health awareness.
Megan co-writes the Hidden Legends Universe with Alicia Rades. She also writes under the pen name of Natalie Erin for the Creatures of the Lands series, co-authored by Krisen Lison.
