Kim Deister is here to tell us about Finding Zaide, a contemporary LGBTQ+ romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Finding Zaide
Kim Deister
Publication date: October 19th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance
Life had gotten comfortable for Amara Addison, maybe too comfortable. Fabulous job, great friends, even an amazing ex-boyfriend who was her ride or die for life. Then Zaide Rossi sauntered into her life and suddenly everything changed. But no matter how crazy life became, finding Zaide made every last moment of chaos worth it.
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This book, from concept to edit to design, was created without the use of generative AI.
I found the new photographer wandering around the top floor, occasionally lifting her hands and moving them around in what looked like a rather lame fight with a ghost. My own skills in photography started and ended with my phone’s camera, but I’d been doing this job long enough to know exactly what she was doing and that I shouldn’t interrupt. She was framing shots in her mind’s eye to find interesting plays of light, good angles, unique backgrounds.
A stepstool stood nearby, so I sat on it to wait for her, watching her as she moved around the open space. She’s younger than I expected. Even though I’d known when I hired her that she was younger than the more established photographers we usually used, I’d still somehow had it in my head that she’d be older than she clearly was. But now that I saw her in person, I realized that she had to be about my age, give or take a year or two.
Young or not, however, she looked the part of a creative type. Her chocolate brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, skewered into place by three jewel-toned chopsticks. The sunlight filtering through the dirty windows glittered off the one ear I could see from where I sat, the cartilage armored by a stack of tiny silver hoops, a bigger one threaded through her nostril. She wore a pair of olive green Army-esque cargo pants with a black camisole left loose over them. On her feet were a pair of purple Chucks that had probably seen better days. More silver encircled her fingers, her wrists, her neck. Tattoos encircled both arms from wrist to shoulder. Another tattoo, a peacock, nestled its head just beneath her ear, the rest of it disappearing beneath her top. What I could see of it was beautiful. Then she turned toward me, and I realized she was beautiful.
My mouth went dry as our eyes met. The world instantly dropped away, and I forgot how to breathe. Then she smiled brightly, and the world settled back into its rightful place. My breath stuttered, and I fervently hoped she hadn’t noticed the effect she’d had on me. What the hell is wrong with you, Mara? Get your shit together. She crossed the room toward me, dust motes flying up in her wake. When she stopped in front of me, I almost lost my ability to breathe all over again.
Zaide Rossi was even more beautiful up close.
Author Bio:
My name is Kim and my last name, Deister, is pronounced “Die-ster.” I always tell my husband I should have kept my married name, Ingram. So much easier to to pronounce!
I am a writer thoroughly in love with words. Reading them, writing them… I love that words can take you outside of your world and let the unimaginable become imaginable. I love them so much that I decided I needed to create some worlds and stories of my own!
Besides being a writer, I am an Army veteran (and Army wife) and a mom to four sons. I grew up in northern New York in a tiny college town called Potsdam. Over the years, our Army life has taken us all over the place and I have been lucky enough to work and live in some pretty amazing places. Right now we live in Hawaii on the island of O’ahu, minutes from the North Shore.
Kat Huddleston is here to tell us about Dead Man's Trigger: A Max Maguire Vampire Novel - urban fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Dead Man’s Trigger: A Max Maguire Vampire Novel
Kat Huddleston
Publication date: October 5th 2026
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
Who Knew Immortality Could Be So Short?
When high school history teacher Max Maguire begins to suspect one of his brightest students is in trouble, he ends up walking down the wrong alley. Suddenly, he’s staring down the fangs of a beautiful, powerful, and utterly merciless vampire named Jade.
As Max’s life takes a dark turn he’s forced to learn how to survive in Jade’s twisted world. But if Jade thinks her hostage is going to play nice, she really should have read his resume. This former Special Forces sniper might just have to dust off some very lethal muscle memory.
While Max plots exactly how to kill the most dangerous predator on the planet, he discovers there’s another group of vampires that have their own plans for Jade. Before he knows it, Max is caught in the crosshairs of a vampire war that neither side can afford to lose.
And there’s one thing neither side knows… Max has a secret of his own.
CONTENT WARNING: This is NOT a romance. The novel contains mature content intended for readers 18 and older. This is a gritty, fast-paced genre hybrid combining vampires with dark urban fantasy, tactical military thriller action, and sarcastic humor, with a wisecracking protagonist at its center. There is explicit sexual material, including non-consensual sex, graphic violence, torture, adult themes, and visceral horror elements. In other words, my vampires don’t sparkle.
Max Maguire just got a brutal lesson from his captor, Jade, after his arm was exposed to the sun. He’s left burned and sick. The only one who can help him is the vampire who hurt him.
Max faded in and out of consciousness for hours, as the pain from his arm and the demands from his hunger took turns pounding through him like two enormous drums vying for attention. When he felt the sun leave the sky, the hunger reared up.
He tried to sit up, but his body started to shake. He felt like he was going to die, even though he figured a vampire wouldn’t die from a little sunburn. But he didn’t have any control over his body and every time he moved or touched his arm, pain seared through him. Eventually he stopped trying to get up or move and decided to wait it out. And suddenly there she was, Jade, looking down on him like an angel… or at least an angel from hell.
“What’s wrong with me?” Max asked.
“It’s sun poisoning. You’ll feel better after a bite.”
He closed his eyes as his body began to shake again. Max knew that she could bring him one of his former students at that moment and he’d kill them. His body would take over, the desire ripping right through his heart. And just as Max was focusing every ounce of his being on hating Jade, she sat down on the bed next to him and pulled him into her arms. Tenderly, almost lovingly, she rocked him like a mother would a sick child.
“It’s going to be okay. Drink me, Max,” she said.
He looked up at her surprised. Jade laughed.
She leaned down to kiss him on the forehead and then turned her head to the side, exposing her neck for him. Max’s body took over and in an instant he wrapped his hands around her and crushed her into his body, his fangs sinking into her neck. His mind went blank as he drank her deep and hard, extreme pain mingling with intense pleasure driving his senses to places he’d never been before. Better yet, he could feel her pleasure in his act.
When his mind came back to him, Max kept waiting for her to push him away, but she didn’t. When he finally stopped, he lay back wiping the blood from his mouth. She watched him with her cobalt blue eyes, like a curious cat wondering what he might do next. She’d gone from being pink and warm to pale and cool.
“Do you feel better?” she asked.
Max nodded. “Thank you.” It was a kind of twisted logic that would have him thank her for helping him considering she hurt him in the first place. Regardless he’d go with it. He had to make Jade believe she owned him body and soul, and there was no time to start like the present.
He was still in some pain, but Max felt much, much better. He rolled over to look at her, resting his head on his good arm. “You’re beautiful.”
“And you’re an idiot.”
“Okay,” he said.
“When I was holding your hand, you could have twisted out of the sun. You could have screamed, begged me to stop. Any number of things. But you didn’t. You just endured the pain. Why?”
“If I had done those things, would you have stopped sooner?”
“Probably not,” Jade said.
“Maybe I was trying to impress you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think… you weren’t going to let me beat you.”
“You’ve already beaten me,” Max said as he played with her long, blonde hair rubbing a strand over his lips.
Jade laughed and shook her head. “Not yet. But I will… Do you want to continue with lessons on the Saracen Lance?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Why is more like it.”
“I don’t think learning how to handle myself in this environment will hurt me.”
“It might not help you either… You’re a very interesting former human. Not always too bright though.”
“Somehow I don’t think being bright is a requirement for this job.” Max let his eyes run down the length of her body. She was wearing the T-shirt and jeans from earlier. He really wanted to take them off.
Jade touched his chest and her power flowed through him like an electric current. “I suppose not.” Jade pushed him onto his back and Max stopped talking. He didn’t want to think any more. He just wanted to let the feeling of her power flow through him. At that moment he didn’t even have the energy to hate her.
Author Bio:
Kat Huddleston has never met a perfectly ordinary day she couldn't improve with a vampire, a monster, or an alien invasion.
The result is Dead Man’s Trigger, the first book in her Max Maguire Vampire series, about a former Special Forces sniper turned high school history teacher turned vampire. He has military training, a talent for sarcasm, and a complicated relationship with being dead. Or is it undead?
Kat likes her supernatural creatures intelligent, her heroes complex, and her humor dark. Her vampires don't sparkle.
A Chicago-based writer, teacher, and award-winning artist, Kat spent a couple of decades writing about sci-fi TV and movies for the Syfy Channel’s website and Sci Fi Magazine. She's also written short stories and screenplays, taught fused glass, and created artwork that can be found in several galleries. Occasionally, she pretends she can concentrate on one thing at a time.
When she's not writing, painting, or melting glass in the name of art, Kat lives with her two cats, Jax and Nicky. They provide moral support, quality control, and unsolicited keyboard supervision. So far, neither has offered to help with marketing.
Lisabet Sarai is here to tell us about The Ruination of Ramona Stone, a Victorian lesbian romance. LGBTQ, Sapphic, historical erotic romance, arranged marriage.
Should anyone discover their secret passion, they would both be ruined.
To Victorian London, they were childhood friends reunited by tragedy. Behind closed doors, they were each other’s undoing.
Ramona Stone survived the bleak years at boarding school because of bright-eyed Juliet—her childhood anchor and her dearest confidante. While Juliet marries for love, Ramona accepts the husband her father has arranged, an ambitious barrister twice her age.
When an accident leaves Juliet a penniless widow, Ramona persuades her husband to grant her friend shelter. Proximity kindles unexpected passion; sympathy turns to illicit desire. What begins as solace quickly transforms into a force that neither woman can resist or deny.
Trapped with a domineering husband, living in a society eager for scandal, Ramona understands that every touch is a gamble and every glance a betrayal. If their secret comes to light, she won't just lose her place in society—she will lose the only love that she’s ever known.
Born Again Victorian
Sometimes I think I lived a past life in the Victorian age. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been drawn to architecture and costumes from the period. My siblings used to tease me about how much I liked “gingerbread” houses. In my high school yearbook picture, I’m wearing a high-necked, 1880’s style blouse with an antique cameo brooch at my throat. I’ve been a huge fan of Gilbert and Sullivan – the consummate chroniclers of Victorian culture - since I was introduced to their operettas at age five. I had devoured the complete Sherlock Holmes before I turned fifteen, not to mention other classics from the era by Wilkie Collins, H. Rider Haggard and of course Charles Dickens.
Possibly due to all the nineteenth century fiction I’ve consumed, I find it surprisingly easy to write dialogue and description that can pass as Victorian. I certainly can’t produce the same level of authenticity for any other historical era.
Over my two and a half decade career, I’ve written a number of tales that take place during Queen Victoria’s reign. My erotic romance Miranda’s Masks features a parallel plot that unfolds in late-nineteenth-century Boston. I’ve also penned a number of steam punk books, all set in an alternative Victorian world with more advanced technology than actually existed (although in fact the latter half of the eighteen hundreds was a hotbed of invention and entrepreneurship). If you like the steampunk genre, check out my Toymakers Guild series or my alt-Victorian novel set in British India, Rajasthani Moon.
The Ruination of Ramona Stone is my first attempt at a realistic novel set in the period. My two heroines fall desperately in love, violating every rule of Victorian society. They understand the price they will pay, should anyone discover their secret passion, but they risk everything to stay together.
It might seem strange that I’m so attracted to things Victorian. Given my interest in sexuality (both literary and personal), I probably would have had difficulty adapting to the prudish societal norms of the time. Of course, perennially popular Victorian erotica like The Pearl and My Secret Life suggest that there was a quite a gap between what people professed in public and what they did in private (or in the company of like-minded libertines).
That’s my theory, anyway: that the Victorians were a far lustier group than they pretended. That’s certainly true of the characters in my Victorian-themed stories.
Excerpt:
“Bloody hell,” she muttered. “This is impossible.”
“Never mind, Juliet.” I half-pulled her back onto the seat. “We will be back home before long.”
“With all the servants, plus your son. Not to mention your husband.” She turned to face me, her eyes gleaming in the light from the side lamps. “I need you, Ro. I need to touch you, to taste you. If I cannot make love to you again, I swear I shall go mad.”
Love? Was that what this was? Last night I’d thought it sheer depravity. Now I began to wonder whether the force drawing us together might be more than mere animal lust. Juliet sounded as though she was on the verge of tears.
“Hush, my dear,” I murmured, drawing her into my arms. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to be together.”
I pressed my lips to her cool forehead, then tilted her chin up. Our eyes met, and then our mouths. Her lips were hot despite the damp and the chill weather. They moulded to mine as though we were fused. We drank deep of each other’s essence, sampling the flavours, savouring the textures. Juliet poured her desire into that kiss. I drank in every ounce, filling my body and spirit.
Kissing was all we could manage, but for the moment, kissing was enough. It went on and on, as the carriage made its way through the London streets. We simply could not let each other go. We would take brief pauses for breath, then dive back into the ecstatic mouth-to-mouth connection. In the shadowed privacy of the coach, we lost ourselves in a glorious fantasy of togetherness and freedom, forgetting that what we desired was forbidden.
We broke apart like sleepers roused from a dream when the brougham halted at my townhouse. Gas lights shone in through the window glass to illumine Juliet’s exquisite countenance. I realised that her cheeks were wet with tears.
With my thumb, I wiped them away. “Don’t cry, my darling,” I whispered. “I’ll come to you, to your room. Tonight, when everyone is asleep. Tonight we can be together.”
I wanted so much to heal her sorrow, I completely forgot my own shame.
About Lisabet:
Lisabet Sarai writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. In addition to her single-author lesbian romance and erotica titles, her Sapphic credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines,Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Best Lesbian Erotica 2015, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian Desire, and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl.
Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing.
What if the life you fight to save is the life that keeps you from becoming free?
It is 2001, and renowned artist Isabella unveils a triumphant solo exhibition at Boston’s prestigious modern art gallery. While critics have hailed her talent for creating spectacular color-saturated canvases, her career, marriage, and finances are crumbling.
Determined to save her family’s historical house by the sea as well as her psychiatrist husband’s reputation during his court trial in Europe, Isabella must somehow care for her daughter without a steady income. After she demands that her former lover, Angel, support her passion project, Isabella promises him one night in return. Restoring the house and obtaining financing are both part of the project. This depends on tracking down her missing best friend, Nina, whom she had put forward to a wealthy sponsor for adapting his memoir into a novel.
Now trapped in a love triangle and a deepening financial crisis, Isabella must find a way forward as the conflict between love, legacy, and survival compels her to question her deepest beliefs while her reputation hangs in the balance.
Thirty Grains of Love is the tale of long-time friends who must piece together their broken personal lives while pursuing their dreams, defining their identities, and experiencing authentic love for the very first time. Set against the backdrop of history and generational echoes of secrecy and social limitations, it explores the route to happiness and its price across four marriage models—trad wife, double career, open relationship, and unequal income.
An uplifting story with a dual timeline showing that the hardest yet most rewarding decision in midlife is to embrace one’s true self.
Here I am on another continent, living my dream—a dream I had forgotten and now need to save. Beau Isabella conquered the art world—only to lose everything she ever had. What a deal. And what a mess. Me, as usual, but this time it’s for real.
People are gathering outside the exhibit at NAGA, Boston’s prestigious modern art gallery, welcoming the snowflakes on their faces and eager to get in. Above the entrance hangs a banner adorned with vibrant, shimmering purple letters: ISABELLA. I picture the stars skating far above, poised to illuminate the city in pristine white once the clouds clear.
I wish I fit in here. I wish I were free.
My first exhibition in North America. Pressure, a heavy weight, mingles with pride. TV reporters speaking at the entrance about explosions of color, enchanted faces, and innovative art. Behind them, a poster depicts my auburn hair and pale shoulders as I turn around in a sweeping movement. The New York Times featured an extensive review last week, and I keep rereading my favorite part:
It is hard to believe that Boston discovered this incredible talent first. Visitors say they haven’t experienced colors like this since the Impressionist era. Isabella’s compositions spark countless interpretations; the public and the critics have fallen in love with her.
I hope I can keep the palette bright if Nina is still missing. I need her for my project, and I need her as a friend. She always finds the right words. And then Lucy’s school bills arrive, as punctual as a Japanese train. How could Chris be so sure we can afford it all?
Yesterday was different. I stood near the gallery entrance in my burgundy evening dress, trying to appear both graceful and casual amid the camera flashes—I’m not ready for celebrity just yet. My gallery partner, Alicia, took me aside to meet another journalist.
Meanwhile, I handled the press questions with ease. They’ve become routine, even on television. I only make them put on more rouge to hide how pale my skin is from no sleep and daily exhaustion. Some journalists worship me and submit to my presence just to serve the public—even if they haven’t seen my work. Others are looking for a juicy detail that might make me more intriguing, trying to chip away at my “art goddess” halo.
Still, this time, a humble man from a local magazine, at first distracted and absorbed in his notes, brought me out of my shell with his last question:
“How has your talent remained, even after you ignored it for decades? Is there someone in the family from whom you inherited this gift?”
I took a deep breath. The walls started moving, like each time I tried to approach the tripod hiding in a corner at home. We had long sacrificed the atelier. Feeling miserable for not having painted in years, I didn’t need a gray-suited journalist to remind me of that. I’m thirty-eight, not retired. And it’s a question I never answer in public. So, despite the subtle provocation, I responded with a smile.
“It’s not as if I completely ignored it—books with my illustrations flew off the shelves like hotcakes. I enjoy children’s books the most because they encourage kids to give wings to their imagination before they can read longer texts. The most important thing in life is to touch someone with what you do. If you give somebody a lesson, valuable advice, a beautiful song, or a new life, then you’ve been present in this world.” I shook my head, letting my earrings swing, to give him a sign that the interview was over.
After that, I enjoyed the peacefulness of my natural surroundings—an exhibition hall filled with paintings and new ideas. I knew I had one last chance to preserve it all, but it felt good not to think about reality for a while. After all, Nina must still be alive—she left of her own free will—and for the time being, I somehow serve my debt and Chris’ lawyers’ bills. If only he could silence the media… What was his psychiatrist’s training for? He employed the wrong assistant, and now she is destroying his reputation.
However, you need a free heart to create, so instead of diving into accounting, I keep dreaming of restoring the seaside villa. An art object, it would be my perfect retreat.
It was a pleasant surprise when the next visitor entered the room. Maybe he could contribute to achieving my dream. Angel’s height and wavy dark hair seized everyone’s attention. He surveyed the space like a panther, searching for a suitable place to start. I bounded over to him.
Author Bio:
Anette has been writing stories since she could hold a pencil, short after she turned four. What started as an intrinsic love for storytelling has turned into a lifelong passion, only to be subdued for a while by a professional career and the care she took of her two wonderful daughters. There's nothing Anette likes better than writing (and reading) stories that are both inspiring and humorous, with a touch of romance and a heartwarming streak of truth running through them.
Anette is a passionate traveller and a big dreamer who never gives up on anything. When she's not writing or inventing new stories, you can find her among her friends or in her maisonette in Frankfurt, Germany, watching masterpiece movies or a tennis match with a glass of wine and her fluffy cat, Lia, beside her.
Anette has a master's degree in English and American literature and a PhD in Linguistics. Having worked as a freelance translator and a project manager, her favourite job has been that of a Tour Director, leading North American groups on educational tours throughout Europe.
Anette’s stories have found their home in online and printed magazines. Her novella "The Sea Moves On" was published in October 2022 in Sofia to receive a hearty welcome from its readers. Currently, the novel “Thirty Grains of Love” is short before publication.
Sharon C. Cooper is here to tell us about Loving Her Enemy, a billionaire fake dating romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Falling in love was never part of the deal.
Loving Her Enemy
by Sharon C. Cooper
Genre: Billionaire Fake Dating Romance
A billionaire
businessman.
A heartbroken, unemployed chemist.
A marriage agreement that can
benefit them both.
Billionaire businessman Sloane Davidson needs a wife—fast. And although Halayna
Tanaka is ten years younger than him, and an enticing temptation he managed to
resist years ago, she's perfect for the role. But she thinks he's some
gold-plated scumbag and wants nothing to do with him.
After a devastating string of bad luck, Halayna is struggling to stay afloat in
a world that keeps knocking her down. So when Sloane, her best friend’s
brother, offers a marriage of convenience as a solution to both their problems,
she’s tempted. The thing is she can't stand him. He may be the sexiest man on
the planet, but he’s also arrogant, infuriating, and overbearing. She shouldn’t
want him. Shouldn’t even give him the time of day. Yet, her body ignites with
desire whenever he’s around.
Is selling out to a billionaire worth it? Especially if he tempts her beyond
her control. Or is this marriage of convenience the path to the love she always
dreamed of?
Running
as if her ass was on fire, Halayna took the steps two at a time and burst into
her bedroom suite, slamming the door behind her. Struggling to get air into her
lungs, she paced the length of the room a couple of times before collapsing
face first onto the king size bed.
What
the heck had just happened?
One
minute, she and Sloane were talking, laughing, and eating, and in the next
minute, they were hugged up together kissing.
“Oh
my God!” Halayna groaned into the mattress as the full weight of what they’d
done hit her. He was her best friend’s brother. A man who was so far out of her
league, it was laughable. Yet, he had kissed her, and it hadn’t been just any
kiss, but a kiss that had her questioning her sanity.
Sloane
kissed me… and I liked it… a lot.
Oh
man, she more than liked it. She wanted a repeat. A repeat of his full,
demanding mouth taking what he wanted from her. A repeat of the way he held her
close to his big, hard, muscular body, and she wanted a repeat of how good it
felt being held in his strong, unyielding arms.
For
those few minutes, with their tongues tangling, all Halayna’s thoughts and
worries had fallen away, and in their place had been a peace she hadn’t felt in
months or maybe even years. Sloane had somehow made her feel more cherished
than she’d ever felt by a man. Which was saying a lot since she’d been engaged
to be married and supposedly crazy in love with Owen.
She
snorted at the thought. Talk about her picker being off when it came to
choosing men. It was a good thing her relationship with Owen had imploded.
Marrying him would’ve been a huge mistake because kissing and being with him
had felt nothing like what she had just experienced.
Kissing
Sloane had felt like a dream. Like something straight out of a sexy fairy tale,
an X-rated fairy tale. But this wasn’t a fantasy. His kiss and the way he’d
held her had been very real. She still felt his lips covering hers and the
taste of him lingered on her tongue.
How
was that possible when it had been just one kiss? One soul-stirring, passionate
kiss.
It
was clear she and Owen hadn’t had a strong connection. Not like what she had
felt a short while ago with Sloane, and that realization had her shook. She
almost married a man she was sure she’d been in love with. Yet, she never felt
the intense desire and passion swirling inside of her. Never felt that
I-can’t-live-without-you vibe.
How
was that even possible?
Halayna
flipped onto her back, and as her heart rate slowly went back to normal, she
stared at the ceiling, her mind reeling at these new realizations. The most
shocking one was Sloane wanting her to agree to a marriage of convenience… with
him.
She
shook her head. Sloane Davidson, the wealthiest man she’d ever known, had asked
her to marry him. He wanted her to be his fake wife. No, not fake. Just
convenient. Wait. Not convenient. He wanted a marriage of convenience. But what
the hell did that even mean?
USA Today
bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a
happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes
contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys
rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won
numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her
Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award
(2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing
husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To
read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her
latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net
