Patrick Simiglai is here to tell us about Fueled by Pain, his nonfiction memoir about self-esteem.
Read on for details...
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Nonfiction / Self-Esteem / Memoir
Date Published: January 15, 2026
Publisher: MindStir Media
What if your pain wasn’t holding you back… but pushing you
forward?
From abuse and neglect to crime, addiction, prison, and crushing
debt—Patrick Simiglai’s story is not just about survival.
It’s about transformation.
In Fueled By Pain, ultra-endurance athlete and mental performance coach
Patrick Simiglai shares how he rebuilt his life from the ground up using
discipline, resilience, and 23 powerful mental techniques designed to help you
do the same.
This is not a motivational quick fix.
This is a blueprint for real, lasting change.
Inspired by elite forces like the Danish Frogman Corps, Patrick pushed himself
through extreme physical challenges—ultramarathons, rope climbs, and
marathon swims—discovering that the real battle isn’t in the
body… it’s in the mind.
Inside this powerful book, you’ll discover how to:
• Master your inner dialogue and stop self-sabotage
• Build discipline that lasts beyond motivation
• Develop unshakable mental resilience under pressure
• Break free from addiction, fear, and limiting beliefs
• Turn pain, discomfort, and resistance into your greatest advantage
• Create long-term success through integrity and self-trust
Patrick’s journey—from chaos to clarity—proves that no
matter where you start, you can rebuild your life. Today, he is a successful
entrepreneur, endurance athlete, and mentor helping others unlock their
potential and take control of their lives.
His message is simple—but powerful:
You don’t need a new life. You need a new relationship with yourself.
Pain, resistance, and discomfort are not signs that you’re on the wrong
path. Often, they are proof that you’re walking in the direction of
growth. You don’t have to feel ready. You just have to show up honestly
and keep your word to yourself—especially on the days when no one is
watching.
About the Author
Patrick Simiglai is a Danish ultra-endurance athlete, mental performance
coach, and speaker dedicated to helping individuals transform their lives
through discipline, resilience, and powerful inner dialogue. As the author of
Fueled By Pain, Patrick shares a raw and deeply personal journey of overcoming
adversity and building mental strength from the inside out.
Competing in some of the world’s most grueling ultra-endurance
races—including 200- and 300-mile events across deserts, mountains, and
extreme terrain—Patrick has developed a unique approach to mental
toughness rooted in real-world experience. His work bridges the gap between
extreme physical performance and everyday personal growth, offering practical
tools for leaders, athletes, and teams to perform under pressure with
integrity and consistency.
Patrick’s path to success was anything but conventional. Growing up in a
childhood marked by abuse and later struggling with drug and alcohol
addiction, he understands firsthand the challenges of feeling trapped by your
own thoughts. His transformation—from chaos and self-destruction to
purpose-driven achievement—forms the foundation of his coaching,
speaking, and writing.
Through his work, Patrick emphasizes that true growth begins with mastering
your inner dialogue. His philosophy is simple yet powerful: you don’t
need a new life—you need a new relationship with yourself. By embracing
discomfort, taking responsibility, and committing to disciplined action, he
teaches others how to unlock their full potential and create lasting change.
Originally written in Danish and later rewritten in English as a personal
challenge, Fueled By Pain reflects Patrick’s belief that growth comes
from stepping outside your comfort zone and committing to the process, even
when it’s difficult. Drawing from years of journaling, coaching, and
extreme endurance experiences, the book delivers 23 mental techniques designed
to help readers build resilience, overcome self-doubt, and achieve long-term
success.
Today, Patrick Simiglai works with individuals and organizations worldwide,
inspiring others to confront their limits, strengthen their mindset, and turn
pain into purpose.
Rex Symone is here to tell us about Good Men Say Please, erotica, romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Good Men Say Please
Rex Symone
Publication date: May 2nd 2026
Genres: Erotica, Romance
He’s a preacher’s son with everything to lose… and a temptress he can’t resist.
Donovan “Donny” Rafte has a problem.
At twenty-something and painfully inexperienced, he can’t get out of his own head long enough to lose his virginity. Being the son of his town’s beloved pastor doesn’t help. Every expectation, every judgment, every rule is stitched into his skin.
Then he meets Eve.
She’s bold. Confident. Unapologetically sensual.
Everything the women in his small, suffocating town are not.
And she has her eyes set on him.
What starts as curiosity quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Lines blur. Boundaries crack. And Donny finds himself standing on the edge of a choice that could shatter everything he’s ever known.
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...
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(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.
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?
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.
Ashlynn Monroe is here to tell us about Claimed, Claimed 3, an off world sci-fi action romance.
Read on for details...
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(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?
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.
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 up. If 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.
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.)
