T.J. Deschamps is here to tell us about Wings and Fangs, Supernatural Legacies, urban fantasy.
Read on for details...
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Urban Fantasy
Date Published: October 31, 2025
Never wanted to be a cop. Definitely didn't want to work for an agency that
used to hunt monsters like me.
But when you're a wolf shifter who doesn't fit in your pack AND the daughter
of an archangel's son? Your career options are... limited.
So I joined I.S.E.A. as one of their first supernatural agents. Figured I'd be
dealing with easy cases forever.
Then the murders started.
Ritualistic. Brutal. All victims from Fenrir's bloodline…just like me.
Now my rookie partner Jada and I are racing to stop a cult that wants to
trigger Ragnarök. They're sacrificing wolves to level up and take on the
gods themselves.
Oh, and did I mention:
✨ Fenrir might be calling in my ancestor's debt
✨ My dad gave me his angelic war sword (she talks, it's annoying)
✨ A gorgeous Valkyrie keeps saving my life
✨ The fate of the world might rest on two rookies
No pressure, right?
WINGS AND FANGS is book one of the Supernatural Legacies
trilogy—grittier, wittier, and more action-packed than ever. Meet
Roxanne Crowfoot: wolf shifter, nephilim, and the agent who's about to save
(or doom) us all.
About the Author
T.J. Deschamps writes stories with diverse characters and subversive themes,
preferring flawed characters over the Chosen One types. She lives in the
Seattle suburbs with her three semi-adult children, three cats, and a
tortoise. Her hobbies include drinking copious amounts of coffee, reading,
playing word games, lifting weights, gardening badly, and dancing.
Gail Koger is here to tell us about Undisciplined Catalyst, Coletti Warlord series, book 19, scifi paranormal romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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I was sixteen when I found out not only am I an alien
hybrid,
but monsters called the Tai-Kok were getting ready to invade our world.
Guess who gets to stop them? Me.
Undisciplined
Catalyst
Coletti Warlord Series Book 19
by Gail Koger
Genre: SciFi Paranormal Romance
I was sixteen when I found out not only am I an alien
hybrid, but monsters called the Tai-Kok were getting ready to invade our world.
Guess who gets to stop them? Me. How?
My uncle, the mad scientist, created a machine called the portal that
instantaneously sends a test subject from one location to another by converting
them into energy. His idea is to port me onto a Tai-Kok ship. All I have to do
is leave a bomb, hit the retrieval button on my spiffy traveler’s belt and
poof! I’m back on Earth before the Tai-Kok ship goes kaboom. Sounds simple,
right?
Wrong. Uncle Ben doesn’t have a clue where I’ll actually appear on the ship. It
could be the engine room, the crew quarters, or even the bridge. It’s like
playing Russian roulette. The Tai-Kok don’t like surprises or uninvited guests.
To make things even more fun, I have an alien battle commander stuck in my head
and I’m related to a powerful Coletti warlord. Yippee. The chances of me living
to see eighteen aren’t good.
“Give ‘em hell.” A wild look in his eyes, Uncle Ben tapped
on the portal's control console.
The circles of light surrounded me, but this time it felt like a zillion fire
ants were crawling over my body. Holy hell! Something had gone wrong! I
appeared in midair and dropped like a rock. Smack! I slammed into someone, and
my Glock went flying.
My eyes bugged. I was on the bridge of a futuristic warship, and the viewscreen
showed one hell of a space battle that was going on. To make things even more
fun, I was lying across the lap of a huge, muscle-bound male wearing black
battle armor. Since he was sitting in the captain’s chair, I was assuming he
was the boss.
A very angry-looking boss. I blinked. Holy cow was he good looking, if you were
into the whole merciless predator thing. Huh? The red chains woven into his
black warrior’s braids matched the communication device on his left wrist. Who
knew aliens accessorized and why did I care? I took a deep breath trying to
control the panic streaking through me.
A low growl rumbled in his chest
One look into his disturbingly hostile amber eyes and I knew I was in big
trouble. I reached for my retrieval button.
His arms clamped around me painfully and he spat a bunch of gobbledygook.
“Sorry, I don’t speak that language,” I replied mentally. Somehow, I knew he
was psychic.
A harsh voice sounded in my head, “How did you get through our shields.”
“Dunno. My uncle is the scientific genius, not me. I’m just the delivery girl.”
“What do you deliver?”
Did I look stupid? The minute I told him bombs; he’d kill me. I pasted a
friendly smile on my face. “Stuff. I’m Lexi and you are?”
“Battle Commander Kaelen. I serve Zarek the Coletti Overlord.”
I had no clue who Zarek was, nor did I want to meet him. “You must be so
proud.”
“Do you have a death wish, female?”
I grimaced. “Some people would think so.”
Howdy. My name is Gail Koger and once upon a time I was a
9-1-1 dispatcher. Too many years of wild requests, screwy questions, bizarre
behavior and outrageous demands have left me with a permanent twitch and an
uncontrollable craving for chocolate. I took up writing science fiction romance
to keep from killing people. So far, it has worked.
Kim Baccellia is here to show us the cover for Letters From Lucca, YA historical fiction, WWII mystery.
There's also a great giveaway.
________________________
Check out the cover reveal of this gutwrenching historical
where Sammi Clark travels to Italy to redeem her beloved
Grandmother's name, only to find the truth is more complex.
Letters From Lucca
by Kim Baccellia
Genre: YA Historical Fiction, WWII Mystery
On the heels of Sammi's grandmother's whispered deathbed
wish, a package of letters from Italy arrives at her post box. Reading them
makes Sammi recall whispers she heard in childhood of her grandmother's wartime
involvement, a past that Sammi's father and aunt would rather see remain
closed. As if things couldn't get any worse, her long-time boyfriend, Hunter,
dumps her.
However, an opportunity arises that sends her to Italy to
defend her grandmother, even if the truth might shatter all she believes. In a
helpful twist, Joseph, her best friend's Italian cousin, offers to help her.
Despite the obvious growing attraction between Joseph and her, she tries to
suppress it as she embarks on her mission to vindicate the grandmother she
loves.
Award-winning author Kim Baccellia grew up in Sacramento, California,
the oldest of seven. She has a business associate degree from Sacramento City
College, a BS degree in elementary education from Brigham Young University, and
studied post grad bilingual/bicultural education at CSUF.
She’s been a telemarketer, library helper at the Harold B. Lee library
at BYU, assistant manager, sales clerk, tutor, bilingual teacher, and
homeschool mother.
Award-winning author. Author of YA paranormal CROSSED OUT
and CROSSED FIRE. YA dystopia CANDLE IN THE WIND. Also the author of the urban
diverse fantasy EARRINGS OF IXTUMEA. Short Christmas Magic in the Holiday
analogy MISTLETOE AND MAGIC. Re-releasing YA fantasy series under new titles in
2026! Currently working on a historical romance set in Tuscany.
Will Okati is here to tell us about All I Want for Christmas, a gay Christmas romance, featuring 2nd chances.
Read on for details...
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Gay Christmas Romance, 2nd Chances
Date Published: December 19, 2025
All James wants for Christmas is his roommate Cillian. And he might just be
getting lucky this year.
Who doesn’t love the holidays? Sleigh bells racing down winding country
roads. Chestnuts, open fires, Yule logs. Homemade fruitcake that’s
soaked up a full bottle of brandy. James adores it all, but his long-concealed
desire for his roommate Cillian runs deeper than a river of holiday booze and
burns hotter than any crackling Christmas hearth. But since he’d rather
not risk losing a dear friend by making any unwanted moves, he’s kept
that to himself for years.
Until now. When a flight plan goes FUBAR and James doesn’t have a way
home for the holidays, Cillian suggests they keep Christmas in their own way.
Tree, lights, feasting, the works.
It’s tempting. Almost as tempting as Cillian himself. And when James
starts to get a clue that his interest might just be reciprocated…
well. That changes the entire game. Time to bring out the holly and the jolly
and maybe he’ll get his man under the tree this year.
EXCERPT
James bowed his head and thumped it gently against the windowpane. At first,
he thought the quiet rattle and bang was from the shitty, landlord special,
glass rattling in its frame. The much louder swearing, first frustrated and
then triumphant, told him Cillian was home.
His heart rate, already nice and high, spiked a jolt or two skyward.
Cillian. His roommate. Platonic, not permanently attached, but in high demand,
with a new pretty boy or big bear on his arm at least twice a month. He
rattled all the windows when he had company, and James had learned to take it
with a grain of salt, a snorted chuckle, and a really good pair of
noise-canceling headphones -- because honestly, Cillian was one of those guys
you couldn’t help but love. Some men had a gift for that. Half Irish and
leaning into it, using the accent he’d gotten from his Galway mother to
its full advantage. Full head of wild red curls and a day or so’s worth
of stubble. Surprisingly broad shoulders, built like a Viking bard, with a
cute little pillow belly when he sat down.
“Your call is very important to us. Please hold…”
James missed the rest of the robot spiel, too busy watching Cillian wander
into their living room, tossing his keys in the general direction of their
coffee table and his own knitted cap toward the back of the couch. No company
tonight, James noticed.
Cillian grinned broadly, his teeth white and even, and mimed “phone
call?” before putting his finger to his lips and plunking cheerfully
down onto their couch. Yep. There was the belly. During dry spells, which
happened far more often than James would like, he itched to drop down beside
Cillian and rest his head on that nice little cushion to see if it was as
comfortable as it looked.
“Won’t say a word,” Cillian mouthed to James. Then almost
immediately, out loud: “Problems? Weren’t you supposed to be on a
plane tonight?”
“Supposed to be, sure.” James gestured at his phone.
“Airline says otherwise.”
“You bought your ticket weeks ago.”
“Again, airline’s website says otherwise. Trying to get an actual
human on the line to convince them of that.”
Cillian winced in kind sympathy and idly rested his hand on his stomach where
his Aran sweater had ridden up an inch or two. “Sucks, my friend. Wish
you good luck.”
James’ fingers twitched. Their windows didn’t keep all the cold
out, but Cillian ran warm. He’d be toasty as a fireplace to cuddle up
with. James could rest his head or roll over to face him while they talked
about a little of everything and a lot of nothing. And while he was there,
possibly nose into the warm skin. Press a light kiss to Cillian’s navel.
Or flip completely onto his stomach, braced on his arms, all the better to
take care of the zipper on Cillian’s jeans and --
Okay, so he didn’t think about that kind of goings-on only during dry
spells. More like all the time, actually.
All I want for Christmas is youuuuuu…
Click. “Your call has been disconnected. Please hang up and try
again.”
James clapped a hand to his forehead and growled through gritted teeth,
wondering if Androids could actually accordion up and break across the middle
if you squeezed them hard enough. Either way, he was about to find out, either
from travel-induced rage or sexual frustration.
“Ah, now. I know that look.”
James had closed his eyes, but he heard Cillian lever himself off the couch
and clatter over before thumping a companionable hand to his back.
“It’s a few days till Christmas still. You’re not going to
get a human on the line during rush hour.”
“True so far.” James opened his eyes. “Suggestions?”
“Sure, easy. Call back tomorrow morning and yell at them then. Or not,
because they’re humans and they’re probably at least twice as
pissed at the system as you are, so be a kind fellow and go easy on the poor
bastards. Figure it all out with a cool head then.”
Cillian grinned at him from inches away. He smelled of bayberries and fir and
wool. “And in the meantime, I happen to know the perfect cure for a
raging temper fit.”
Despite himself, a matching smile tugged at James’ lips. Cillian was
just magic that way. “Don’t say drinks.”
“Drinks!” Cillian thumped him harder, then tossed an arm around
James’ shoulders. “Best idea I’ve heard today. Let’s
go.”
With a choice between that and listening to bubblegum caroling for another
hour -- well, it wasn’t really a choice at all.
All I want for Christmas is you. He tapped Cillian’s fist with his own.
“You’re on. Let’s go.”
About the Author
Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat
hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter
weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong
love of storytelling. Will's definitely one of the quiet ones you have to
watch out for, though he -- not she anymore -- is a lot less quiet these days.
Delia Strange is here to tell us about Amaranthine, a scifi, time travel, historical, paranormal, vampire romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Eternal Life.
Endless Love.
Infinite Cost.
Amaranthine
by Delia Strange
Genre: SciFi Time Travel Historical Paranormal Vampire Romance
Eternal life comes
at a cost
For centuries, Amaranthine has walked through time—an
immortal bound by a gift she never asked for. From the opulent halls of the
Roman Empire to the decadent jazz clubs of 1920s London, to the futuristic
floating city of New Francisco, she has lived countless lives, loved deeply,
and lost more than most could ever bear. With each new era comes new faces:
lovers, rivals, and those drawn to the mystery of her eternal existence. But
immortality comes with a price, and as the world changes, so too does the weight
of the centuries she carries.
Torn between living for the future and haunted by the
choices of her past, Amaranthine must confront the question that has followed
her for an eternity: What does it mean to live forever when everything and
everyone else fades away?
“This is the
first book in a while that I have continued to mull over even after I'd
finished reading it as it's definitely a story that gets you thinking.”
~ Lynne Stringer, Goodreads Review
The olive trees stood like shadows in the distance, swaying in the night
breeze. Amaranthine’s steps were cautious, her eyes scanning the darkness, but
as she reached the edge of the grove, there was no sign of him. Her breath
hitched in her throat, a sudden pang of doubt freezing her where she stood. Had
she waited too long? Her heart sank as she looked around. She’d been foolish to
think this was possible, that someone like her could step outside the
boundaries of her life, if only for a moment.
But then Marcellus stepped forward, his form
emerging from the darkness and appearing in front of her like a dream. His
smile was slow, knowing, and when his eyes met hers, she felt that rush all
over again, more powerful this time for the waiting.
“I thought you might change your mind,” he
said, his voice cutting through the night.
Amaranthine exhaled, the tension leaving her
body in a soft, trembling breath. “I almost did,” she whispered, her voice
barely audible, but then she smiled, feeling the same reckless pull that had
brought her here. “But I’m here.”
Marcellus took her hand, his touch warm, and
without a word he led her deeper into the olive grove. The trees closed in
around them and the world outside the grove disappeared, leaving only the two
of them beneath the cover of night. The air smelled faintly of the earth and
the lingering sweetness of ripening fruit, but all Amaranthine could focus on
was the heat of his hand against hers, the certainty in his steps as he drew
her farther away from the villa, away from everything she knew.
When he stopped, she nearly stumbled, caught
off guard by the sudden stillness. Marcellus turned to face her, his gaze
sweeping over her with an intensity that made her catch her breath. His eyes
roamed her face, her body, lingering as though his look could somehow touch her
skin. It wasn’t just a glance; it was deeper, heavier.
Slowly, deliberately, Marcellus ran his
fingers up her arm, light as a breeze. The touch sent a shiver down her spine,
thrilling and delicate all at once. His hand traveled over her shoulder, warm
and sure, before brushing against her neck, where her pulse raced beneath his
fingertips. He cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheek as his other hand
slid into her hair, gently cradling the back of her neck. The closeness of
him—his soft breath against her skin, his scent unfamiliar and
intoxicating—made her dizzy.
When he pressed his body against hers, she
didn’t hesitate. Amaranthine’s arms wrapped around him as though it was the
most natural thing in the world, her fingers curling into the fabric of his
tunic. She could feel the heat of him through the thin cloth, the steady rise
and fall of his chest, and the thrilling, terrifying anticipation that hovered
in the air between them. He leaned in, his lips so close to hers that she could
feel the warmth of his breath, and her body instinctively tilted forward, closing
the last distance between them.
The kiss began softly, their lips brushing
with a delicate hesitance, as though both of them were testing the boundaries
of something new. It was sweet, tender, like a whispered secret exchanged in
the dark. Amaranthine’s heart fluttered, the warmth of his mouth against hers
sending gentle waves of pleasure through her body. Her hands tightened their
grip on his tunic, pulling him closer, and for a moment, everything else faded
away—her worries, her fears, even the nagging sense of not belonging. Here, in
this kiss, she felt connected, as though they shared something deeper than
words.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the kiss
deepened. Marcellus’ arms wrapped around her waist, his hands pressing her
closer, and the softness between them gave way to something more intense, more
urgent. Passion overtook them both, their lips moving with a fervor that
surprised her. Amaranthine had never kissed anyone before, but she felt as
though she’d always known how, the way their mouths fit together, the way their
breaths mingled in the cool night air. Her heart pounded faster, and a strange
heat pooled in her chest, spreading through her veins in a way that made her
feel alive.
Then something within her awoke. At first,
she didn’t recognize it, mistaking the growing intensity for the natural
progression of a kiss. There was a pull, a sensation inside her, almost like
the drawing of breath, but deeper, fuller. She thought it was part of the magic
of kissing, the way it could make someone feel as though they were floating,
untethered from everything. No wonder people kiss, she
thought, her mind hazy with the thrill of it. It’s wonderful. She
let the sensation sweep over her, unaware of what she was truly doing. But
then, after a moment, she noticed something different. Their lips had stopped
moving. The rhythm they had found, the tender push and pull, had stilled.
Amaranthine opened her eyes, confused, and
pulled back. Her breath caught in her throat. Marcellus staggered away from
her, his face ashen, his once bright eyes dull and clouded. He looked gaunt,
hollow, as though something had been drained from him. His skin sagged against
the bones of his cheeks, and before her eyes, he aged—twenty years, maybe
more—his youthful vibrance withering into something frail and brittle. He
gasped, his hands reaching out toward her as though for help, but no words
came. Then, with a final shuddering breath, Marcellus crumpled to the ground,
motionless.
The world around her seemed to tilt, the
ground beneath her feet suddenly unsteady as she stared at Marcellus’ lifeless
body. Her chest tightened, a wild panic rising inside her, but she couldn’t
move. Her legs felt rooted to the spot, her mind unable to comprehend what had
just happened. Only moments ago, they had been so close—he had been so alive.
Now, the boy who had held her in his arms, who had smiled at her like she was a
secret worth keeping, lay motionless at her feet, his face hollow and pale, drained
of life.
An only child with an active imagination, I
created many stories in my head. My bookcase was overflowing, and I loved
visiting the library. I'd always been a reader, but I hadn't considered
writing until a childhood friend said we should write our ideas down. Once I
started writing my stories, I couldn't stop.
I
gravitated to stories of peculiar places and happenings. I loved twists and
dark reveals, so my writing didn't stray far from that. I was a fan of
fantasy—of ancient Greek myths or contemporary paranormal stories. They
captured my imagination and opened me to worlds of possibilities. There
were no constraints on fantasy, no wrong or right answers; anything I dreamed
up was acceptable. And then came H. G. Wells and science fiction, which also
opened the door to paranormal and speculative fiction, my three favourite
genres.
SK Holt is here to tell us about Her Name Was Chas, contemporary LGBTQ fiction, lesbian romance.
Read on for details...
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Contemporary LGBTQ Fiction, Lesbian Romance
Date Published: November 13,2025
The last place Chas Montgomery wants to be is in the damp basement of an
old church undergoing conversion therapy. But when her mother catches her
kissing her best friend Jess, that's exactly where she ends up.
Years later, “Chastity” is a model of the life her family always
wanted for her: married to a man and devoted to her faith. She’s done
everything “right” and put her old life behind her for good. Until
she meets Alex.
Alex is confident, compassionate, and everything Chas never knew she needed.
As their connection deepens, Chas begins to question the beliefs she was
forced to live by. For the first time, she chooses herself—and a new
life filled with authenticity, freedom, and love.
But when an unexpected pregnancy from her marriage threatens to unravel
everything, Chas must confront her past to protect her future. Can she hold on
to the life she’s building with Alex, or will fear, guilt, and
unrelenting pressure pull her back into the shadows?
About the Author
SK Holt writes compelling contemporary gay romance that delves into the heart
of modern relationships and identity. Her debut novel, Her Name Was Chas, is a
tender and unforgettable story of finding love and self-discovery. A native of
South Carolina, SK lives with her wife, their children, and a demanding trio
of French bulldogs. When she isn't working, she can be found unwinding with
her family by the ocean, her favorite spot for inspiration.
Aïda Darija Juodis is here to tell us about her children's picture book The Christmas Cardinal.
There's also a great giveaway.
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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Aïda Juodis will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
The Christmas Cardinal, written by Aïda Juodis, is a soft and whimsical tale that was gently crafted to help provide children who have lost a loved one with comfort and warmth during the holiday season.
Read an Excerpt
If you wonder where your loved one goes when they pass away, remember that they’re always with you in your heart to stay.
But they go somewhere else that’s special too and continue watching over you.
Look up above at the sky to the North Star way up high.
Just beyond that big bright star is the North Pole not too far.
About the Author:
Aïda Darija Juodis is a storyteller who blends comfort, wonder, and gentle magic in her writing. The Christmas Cardinal reflects her belief that love endures, guiding us from near and far.
