V. Ajinkya is here to tell us about Rakshasa's Wrath, The Clawed Chronicles book 1.
Read on for details...
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The Clawed Chronicles, Book 1
Fantasy
Date Published: February 1, 2026
Shipwrecked on her way to an arranged marriage, Lyliana McKenzie
discovers that her rescuers are not the saviours she thought them to be.
Amidst the dangers of a pirate coup, she must find a way to keep herself safe
with the help of only a pixie and one pirate captain. After a failed escape
attempt leads her to discover what she thinks are gems, she begins to realise
that the stories she heard as a child might not be all just fantasy.
As Lyliana collects more allies, dark forces rise around her creating yet more
enemies, both at home and in the pirate camp. Despite these hardships, her
desire to escape becomes marred by newfound power and her mirky path grows
complicated. Will she honour her family and friends, or will she accept this
new life of hardship and adversity?
About the Author
I was born and grew up in Leicestershire, UK where I have lived my whole
life before joining the Merchant Navy at 18. I achieved my dream of becoming a
Master Mariner and held the post of captain for more than ten years, working
mostly on the West coast of Africa and the North Sea. Since before my sea
career I have loved writing. It gives me great pleasure to share my
creativeness with the world, but that is just gravy on top of meeting another
life goal. During my off hours I write, read and, occasionally do the odd
degree by distance learning. To date, I have master's degrees in Creative
Writing and Environment, Health and Safety from the Open University and
Sunderland University respectively. My other main interest is tropical
fishkeeping though I have yet to write a story about them.
Wanda Violet O. is here to tell us about No Excuses, No Regrets, BDSM Erotica.
Read on for details...
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BDSM Erotica
Date Published: August 7, 2026
Tonight, Marley will beg for every forbidden thing she’s too proud
to ask for.
Marley -- I built the model. Denton stole the credit, sabotaged my numbers,
and tried to bury me in front of the client. Then Lucan walks in. Three nights
ago, he was the Dom who bound my wrists, stripped away my control, and made me
scream inside Sanctum Black. Today, he’s the client who can save my
career -- or destroy it. He demands I lead the account. Demands a direct line
to me. And when he orders me back to his private room, kneeling and waiting, I
know exactly what he wants. Worse, I know exactly how badly I want to give it
to him.
Lucan -- Marley thinks she can hide behind sharp suits, sharper words, and
professional boundaries. She’s wrong. I saw what she needed the first
night I had her under my hands. I saw the hunger, the surrender, the beautiful
way she fought herself before giving in. Her boss tried to take what belonged
to her. I handled that. Now I’ll handle Marley. I won’t break her.
I’ll bind her, test her, praise her, punish her, and make her beg.
She’s mine. By the time I’m done, she’ll say it. More?
She’ll believe it.
EXCERPT
Marley
I sat at my desk, staring at my finished project. Three weeks of work stacked
into a clean PowerPoint. The numbers aligned. The previous projections had
been spot on, and I had worked to complete this project and move to the next
phase for over two years. Now waves had started in upper management. The
completed work would not be presented by me.
My boss, Denton, had made that clear in his email yesterday. He would lead. I
would attend as backup for any questions he couldn’t answer. The email
didn’t mention why he’d pulled the rug out from under me, but I
had a good idea.
My phone buzzed. A text from the front: Denton wanting me in the conference
room now. I’d already sent him my presentation for review so I
couldn’t imagine why he’d want me early. Even with him doing the
bulk of the meeting, I still had prep work to finish.
With a sigh, I shut my laptop and slipped it into my briefcase before leaving
my tiny cubicle. The open-plan office stretched around me. No one looked
up… which was the first warning. The conference room sat at the far end
of the floor, all glass walls and polished table. I could see two junior
associates already seated inside, their postures attentive, laptops open.
Denton stood at the head of the table with the room’s projection screen
pulled down. The navy suit he wore looked expensive and tailored, his tie
perfectly straight.
I stepped inside and the door closed behind me with a soft click. Denton did
not look up from his phone. “Marley. Thank you for joining us.” He
set his phone down and reached for the laptop in front of him.
“I’ve made a few adjustments to the presentation.”
He opened the file to the first slide. My name in the bottom corner was now
gone, replaced by his name in a large, bold font.
He glanced up at me. “Optics. I’m sure you understand.” His
curt explanation cut me off before I fully processed he’d actually taken
credit for my work. His voice stayed level. I opened my mouth to object but
heard how petty I’d sound in front of my colleagues. “The client
expects senior leadership on engagements of this size. It’s about
inserting confidence into the relationship between our companies.”
Neither of the other two men in the room spoke up. Instead, they both kept
their eyes on their own screens.
“This is an editorial decision, not a reflection on your work.”
Denton smiled, though there was nothing remotely friendly or pleasant about
the expression on his face. “You’ll be in the room. You’ll
have the opportunity to contribute during Q&A.”
My heart pounded in alarm. He was edging me out. Denton had every intention of
taking credit for the work we’d done on the first phase. He knew enough
about the next steps to make everything work, but I doubted he could explain
the finer points, or keep the project on track to meet the projections for
phase two which would mean a significant delay in phase three. Assuming the
assigned team made it to phase three.
“I understand the optics,” I said. My voice came out clipped,
precise. Anything louder would give him what he wanted. “But the
analysis is mine. The client should know who built it in case there are
adjustments leading into phase two.”
“Of course.” Denton nodded as if I had said something helpful.
Then he pulled up a slide with a page I had never seen. A figure chart with
numbers that did not match any data set I’d worked with.
“I did want to raise one concern.” He turned the slide toward the
juniors. “This figure. The correlation coefficient here is significantly
off from the rest of the model. I caught it during my review.”
The room went very quiet. I stared at the slide. The numbers were wrong. They
weren’t numbers I had generated and they definitely didn’t belong
in my analysis. Nor had I put them there. Suddenly, everything made sense. The
way he’d undercut me in the first meeting when he’d replaced my
topic without notice. The way he’d taken credit for my work. He wanted
point on this project and the prestige that went with it.
“This is exactly the kind of oversight that concerns me,” Denton
continued. His tone had shifted to something gentler, almost paternal.
“Attention to detail matters at this level. The client will have
questions. We need to be prepared with answers.”
My whole body broke out into a sweat, the visceral reaction to the way
I’d just been undercut. My jaw tightened. The furrow between my brows
deepened, a physical response I could not control.
“That slide isn’t mine,” I said. The words came out steady.
Barely.
Denton’s expression did not change. “The file was submitted to me
under your name.”
“I didn’t build that chart. The numbers are wrong.”
“Then we’ll correct it.” He set the slide down. “The
important thing is that we caught it before the client saw it. That’s
what a senior review process is for.” Could he sound more patronizing?
Through the glass walls, I could see heads turning toward the conference room.
Not staring directly. The careful, sidelong attention of people who understood
exactly what was happening without needing to hear the words. The shape of a
public correction. The unmistakable geometry of a superior establishing
dominance.
About the Author
Welcome to Wanda Violet O.'s world of bedtime fantasy, where you'll find a
variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in
extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play... she's got it all. Come take a look
for yourself!
Inspired by a mad vision of the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, a centuries-old time war is being fought to determine the destiny of the human race. As the conflict rages between the early 18th century and the battlefields of World War I, Czarina Sorceress Catherine Romanova joins forces with her younger self, Princess Von Anhalt, magician Zolo Bold, and World Maker Niccolo Paganini, to face a gamut of powerful and implacable foes. The most dangerous and ruthlessly brilliant of them all, the immortal E. G. Godfellow–once known to ancient Greece as the “Scourge of the Gods”–intends to stop Catherine and her allies from rewriting the history of the 20th century.
Their bold plan, to prevent the 80 million deaths of WW II and inaugurate a new utopian vision for humankind in the 21st century, interferes with Godfellow’s plan to maintain the status quo and thereby usher in his own utopian vision of “One Earth—One Master.” Only one vision will dominate, and either way, the cost will be terrible.
AS SHE KNELT AT THE CATHEDRAL ALTAR in the year 1762 for her royal coronation as Czarina of All the Russias, Catherine Romanova felt like starting a new war. She’d already endured two hours of a five-hour ceremony while wearing twenty pounds of silk and nine pounds of Imperial Crown; and to increase the burden even further, the droning excess of pomp and boredom had drained her of patience, not to mention goodness.
Wishing to distract herself from the seemingly endless prattle of the Russian Orthodox Patriarch as he recited Old Testament scripture, as well as the oven of suffocating heat created by a hoop dress big enough to hide twenty dwarves, Catherine lifted the curtain on theater. She replayed to herself Earth’s most important war to date—the ultimate conflict to define the fate of human nature itself. Her old violin-playing mentor, Niccolo Paganini, had dubbed it “The Utopia War.”
While the aged Patriarch stumbled over a droll reading of Malachi, her musing inevitably took her back to the time just before the war, to another world at age fifteen when she lived in the Castle Bärenthoren and had been known to all of Europe as the famous and unruly Princess Fredericke von Anhalt (aka “Freddie”)—the name born by her proudly until her terribly boring coronation now underway.
Dear God, help me survive this day. My destiny is Catherine, but my soul is Fredericke.
Even though her every breath and eye blink was being carefully watched and measured by the gaseous Moscow nobles who filled the pews of Assumption Cathedral, her first memory began with a sound. A barely audible titter, like distant footsteps on decayed leaves. She’d considered the scraping sound of a mouse to be the origin, or some other invading creature, for every now and then a cat bird or a dove flew into the study and fell to the floor, finally tiring itself out with fearful flutters.
So truly, it could have been any number of things.
Nonetheless, Freddie vowed to ignore the disturbance and return to her prior task: recreating the Greek mathematics of Eratosthenes to determine Earth’s circumference while imagining herself the gallant Sir Francis Drake sailing the Azores in search of Spanish gold.
Putting quill to paper, she sketched the hull of Drake’s ship, The Golden Hind, before jotting down a few notes on the logic of Eratosthenes, and just as she measured the miles between the two cities in his equation, Syene and Alexandria, the strange tittering repeated. But louder this time. Enough to make her hand slip, the point of quill jaggedly defacing her work.
What in Beelzebub’s name? she asked herself.
The disturbance had become too curious to allow any further progress on the circumference of Earth, and though Freddie hated breaking personal vows, she rose from her writing desk, determined to learn the truth.
Author Bio:
Warwick Gleeson has lived in both LA, NYC, and D.C. He has worked many different jobs, everything from brick mason to Federal bureaucrat to small business owner. His agent is currently shopping a futuristic thriller to New York, and a screenplay or two are making the Hollywood rounds. His short fiction and poetry has appeared in many journals such as North American Review, Conjunctions, and Quarterly West. He has two grown children in their forties and is married to a most wonderful woman who is an author of historical murder mysteries and a former writer for National Lampoon magazine.
For
Becca Salt being a witch isn’t all magic. Too curvy and lonely, she
spends her nights running a makeover service for demons, vamps, weres
and zombies who want to project a more human, normal side. Their
goal? To get the babes without the authorities hunting them down like
rabid dogs. Once Becca suppresses the worst of their beast, they’re
on the hunt and gone.
Dating
has been a definite bitch for Eric Diletto. Although he’s hot and
hung, he’s also one of Cupid’s descendants—a god born to
believe in courtship, courtesy and all that other junk. Tired of
women dumping him for the bad boys, Eric hires Becca to release his
inner beast. Grrrr.
Two
potions later, they’re crawling all over each other. With Eric’s
newfound dominance, he’s definitely the man. And the god, who
intends to take Becca here, there and everywhere. Who said sorcery
and love wasn’t fun?
Warning—a
witchdoctor’s nightmare. Contains potions with weird side effects,
a sorceress with limited magical skills and a yearning heart, plus a
minor god who wants to get down and dirty. Bad, bad boy.
PRAISE FOR FREEING THE BEAST
NOMINATED FOR BOOK OF THE MONTH
"Funny, sexy and ice melting, this book made me laugh, cry a little and want to keep reading long after the last page was done."
A great mix of humor, seduction, mythology, witchcraft, bloopers and some good Italian food just rounded it off for keepers. Tina Donahue is now on my must read list and I really hope there will be more stories based on this novel. Loved it!
FIVE STAR REVIEWS - AMAZON
Amazing
Haven’t been so entertained in such a long Time thank you for this joyous time reading this amazing story! I can’t wait to read more. - Earauzn
***
This book was amazing. The good guys can win. Becca runs a paranormal makeover service. She is very good at what she does but when Eric walks in, things change. She has an instant attraction to him but she can’t figure out why. Two potions later, and the attraction is bigger than life. Is it the potion or does Eric really feel for her? She can’t imagine life without him but she can’t help but feel like it just the magic doing the work. Can Eric make her see that she is worth his love? A must read!!! - Julie Jackson
TEASERS
Excerpt:
“You’re
going to do my treatments in here?” There wasn’t any equipment
around or things one might use for magic, like chicken feet, wands
and other stuff.
“Before
we begin, you need to read this.” She slid the papers she’d been
reading across the desk to him.
He
grabbed a chair and sat. “Is that the process?”
“In
a manner of speaking.”
“What’s
that mean?”
“It’s
the contract you have to sign or nothing, and I do mean nothing,
happens.”
Jesus,
she was hardcore today. As a rule, business owners were that way with
people who didn’t want their services, not ones who did. He bounced
the inch-thick papers on his palm to test their weight. “I’m
guessing this sucker weighs a pound. Am I right?”
She
drummed her fingertips on her naked belly. Tiny silver stars cascaded
from her navel. Each time she breathed, the jewelry caught the light.
He
wanted to kiss the baubles and her dewy flesh.
She
wore the same basic outfit she had when they had first met—flowy
pants and a top that tied beneath her breasts, only these were in
sapphire blue. The same shade as her eyes. Her makeup was no less
dramatic than the last time—crimson lipstick that made her mouth
undeniably kissable and black stuff surrounding her lids.
What
a babe.
Too bad she wasn’t into him. Maybe with the junk she came up with
to bring out his beast, she would be. “Is your service usually this
complicated?” He lifted the papers and hoped she wasn’t using
them to run him off.
“The
contract is simply full disclosure to help you understand the
process. So you’re completely protected.”
A
Wall Street hedge fund manager couldn’t have sounded as evasive.
“Protected against what?”
Her
face paled. She gestured to the papers he held. “It’s all in
there. Go on, read it.”
“That
could take days.”
She
glanced to the right, the left and past him. When she’d run out of
places to look, she dragged her attention back to his face. “Most
of it’s standard legal junk. I’ve highlighted the important
parts.”
“The
ones that will release my inner beast.”
“In
a manner of speaking.”
That
again. She sounded far less confident than Eric would have liked or
expected. He dropped the contract on her desk. The draft it created
sent other papers floating to the edge.
Becca
caught them before they fell to the floor. Her top gapped, exposing
her lacy black bra. He gripped his chair and leaned up,
rubbernecking.
J. Todd Kingrea is here to tell us about Only Angels Have Blue Eyes, horror - suspense.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Horror / Suspense
Date Published: 08-03-2026
Things are looking up for Maylin Cole and her 4-year-old daughter,
Margo. Fleeing an abusive relationship, the private clinic Heaven’s Hope
offers shelter and the promise of a new life. Led by the charismatic and
beguiling Seraph Nakir, they learn a surprising truth: they’re actually
angels who have lost their way.
Everyone has an angel name and is being prepared to ‘ascend’ when
the time is right. Their angelic identities will play a significant role in
aiding humanity when the world ends.
As the weeks pass, Maylin becomes accustomed to the peculiar confrontational
therapy. The black curtains and bars on the windows no longer trouble her. The
lack of privacy, mystifying theology, and strange rules become commonplace.
She sees Margo less frequently since the children are kept in the basement.
The death of another patient awakens Maylin to dark secrets within the walls,
and soon the horrifying truth about Nakir and Heaven’s Hope is revealed.
Maylin must confront her insecurities, rediscover her individuality, and use
her wits and resources if she hopes to save Margo and the other children.
Inspired by a true crime case, this slow-burn thriller roars to a
pulse-pounding climax, reminding the reader to think independently, ask
questions, and be careful who you trust.
About the Author
J. Todd Kingrea is the author of "With A Blighted Touch" and The Deiparian
Saga ("The Witchfinder," "The Crimson Fathers," and "Bane of the Witch"). He
has also authored two non-fiction books, two short stories, and role-playing
game scenarios. When not writing, he enjoys collecting and watching movies,
reading, and prowling through dusty old bookstores. He and his wife live in
Galax, Virginia.
You can find him online at www.jtoddkingrea.com, on Facebook, X, and
Instagram. Stay in touch at jtoddkingrea@yahoo.com.
Zoe Forward is here to tell us about Bad Decisions & Back Roads, Second Chance Veterinary Romance - Southern Veterinary #2, a contemporary romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Bad Decisions & Back Roads: Second Chance Veterinary Romance
Zoe Forward
(Southern Veterinary, #2)
Publication date: August 3rd 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
The problem with bad decisions is you never stop wanting them.
I used to be the rebellious girl from the wrong side of the fenceline. He was the local hellraiser nobody could tame. While our families carried on a feud older than indoor plumbing, we fell for each other.
Then my vicious father found out. To save Timothy’s life, I broke his heart and disappeared.
Now over a decade later, I’m back as a large-animal veterinarian, working at his brother’s clinic and treating everything from prize dairy cows to Timothy’s homicidal llama. Avoiding him should be easy.
It isn’t.
He’s a single dad running two businesses, still infuriatingly irresistible, and determined to make me pay for every year he spent hating me.
The problem? I never stopped loving him. But if he learns why I really left, I could lose him forever.
“Yesterday…I wrecked you?” She gave me a look I remembered. Her green eyes flared. I was about to lose this fight in a way I’d never recover from.
She slowly unzipped her coveralls. My brain immediately abandoned ship. Not helped by the fact that traitorous memory chose this exact moment to replay yesterday’s rainstorm in vivid detail.
Meanwhile, in real time, she peeled the coveralls down and somehow stepped out of them while keeping her socks from touching the ground—a feat of female sorcery I could neither explain nor stop watching.
Underneath was a tight white shirt that clung in ways that should probably require a warning label, a permit, and possibly a pastor on standby.
My eyes briefly closed. Opened. She was still there.
Beside me, Cody made a small choking noise.
I cut him a glare.
He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
Then—because she enjoyed cruelty—she lifted both arms and twisted her hair into a messy bun. Which did things. Terrible, magnificent things to her chest.
Her mouth curved like she knew exactly what she’d done. She pulled a scrub top out of the duffle and pulled it down over the tight shirt. Without a word, she packed the supplies into her duffel, casually picked up the dart rifle from the ground, and started walking up the hill like she hadn’t just detonated every functioning brain cell in a fifty-yard radius.
Then she tossed over her shoulder—
“I’m back, Timothy Hurst. End of story.” A few steps later she said, “You’re welcome…for dealing with your dangerous llama.”
Author Bio:
USA Today bestselling author Zoe Forward is a parent, wife, veterinarian, and unapologetic chocolate lover. She writes spicy paranormal and contemporary romances that blend action, adventure, humor, and a touch of magic.
Zoe lives in the South with a lively menagerie of four-legged beasts and two slightly wild kids.
Lila Fogle is here to tell us about The Case of the Red Flame, Tristan Beaufort Humorous Mysteries #1, a mystery comedy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Case of the Red Flame
Lila Fogle
(Tristan Beaufort Humorous Mysteries, #1)
Publication date: August 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Mystery
Lucy is an apathetic young woman who is hired to assist eccentric private detective Tristan Beaufort, a man whose wildness, endless optimism, and occasional naiveté seem at odds with his chosen career. Her job is to keep a written account of his cases, to play the Watson to his Holmes.
They are hired by a woman who suspects her wife, Professor Jennifer Darvis, is having an affair. What begins as a simple investigation of adultery soon spirals into a case of conspiracy, arson, and murder.
Professor Darvis is a delusionally self-assured academic whose writings regarding the existence of a shadowy organization known only as The Quadrette have failed to find an audience outside of her students, for whom she has made her book assigned reading. However, an FBI agent shows up on her doorstep, insisting that her theories have spawned a series of murders, and requesting her help in preventing further deaths.
Soon, Tristan and Lucy find themselves unravelling a plot surrounding Darvis which seems as though it could not exist, despite the evidence they encounter at every turn. Their adventures will bring them up against the police, the enigmatic FBI Agent, and the leader of The Quadrette herself.
The following is not a tale for the faint-hearted.
I wish I could say we all made it out alive, but this is not the case. Some languish behind prison bars and some rest beneath the dirt. Others have returned to the comforts of home.
I escaped with my life, though you have likely guessed as much.
What follows is a humble account of my time with Tristan Beaufort. Looking back, I would say he is best described as a man who would place himself among the Philip Marlowes and Sam Spades of the world, but was far too kindhearted to be hardboiled, and too distinct to be discreet.
The rest must be read to be believed.
I was in my twenty-seventh year, when I first met Tristan Beaufort. My life had been shaping up to be less than ideal, though perhaps of some interest to one of the more burned-out existentialists. While others settled into their careers and families, I passed from one temporary job to the next, never in one workplace for long.
I had resigned myself to this fate: this life of endless, stalling distraction. I accepted my lot with the kind of stoicism Marcus Aurelius himself would envy. At least, this is what I told the few who asked.
I am aware that a clinician might have known my distraction by another name, but that is neither here nor there. Out of respect for the reader, I shall elaborate no further.
My practiced resignation experienced a subtle shift when, one day, I received a phone call. The woman on the line thought she had a job that would suit me well. She recalled my interest in the written word, and thought I might make good use of it in this position.
Her voice droned through the finer details, barraging my ears with her anesthetic. From amidst the tide of useless words and mundane utterances, I picked up the heart of the message towards which she uneconomically wandered: I would become the assistant to a famed private detective, Tristan Beaufort.
Famed. If the name sounded familiar, the reason escaped me.
Author Bio:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com
