Beth Rinyu is here to tell us about The Rewrite, a contemporary romantic comedy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Rewrite
Beth Rinyu
Publication date: January 29th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
How long would you hold a grudge?
If you’re Eloise Hendrickson, the answer is twenty-five years. After being humiliated by her overseas pen pal in seventh grade, Eloise, now a successful writer, has never quite let go of that one mortifying moment. One bad breakup, a late night of drunken internet sleuthing, and a half-baked excuse to bust through writer’s block send her straight into the path of the boy she’s hated her whole life.
Her plan? Turn him into the villain of her next novel.
The plot twist? He’s not the jerk she remembers.
Instead, he’s a charming chocolatier, a devoted family man, and awkwardly, a huge fan of her books. But as Eloise reconnects with the past, it’s not him who captures her attention, it’s someone else entirely. Someone unexpected. He’s rude, infuriating, and gets under her skin like no one else. He’s the exact opposite of the heroes she creates and the men she dates.
With new friends, a fresh perspective, and possibly the beginnings of something romantic—Eloise must decide if she’s finally ready to let go of the perfection she’s always demanded from herself as well as everyone around her, and embrace the unpredictable, wonderfully flawed life waiting for her. Maybe her next bestseller won’t be about righting the past after all. Maybe it will be about rewriting the future instead.
Warning: This book may contain chocolate and possibly a happily ever after.
“Okay, so if booty calls are off the table. What about a friendship? Seeing he’s such a decent guy? You’re a lonely woman in a strange country. He’s an available strapping man. Maybe it would be nice to have someone just to hang out with. I mean… not someone like you and me someone. Let’s face it, I’m irreplaceable.”
“No,” I cut in. “Like I said, he’s nice. For someone else. Whether it’s sex or friendship, I’m not interested. And for the record, I’m not lonely.”
“Yes, yes, how could I forget, your social circle now includes preteens and senior citizens.”
“I happen to like my new friends, both young and old.”
“Ella, honey.” Charlie gave me that look that was equal parts exasperated and concerned. “All I’m saying is, maybe this is your moment to let your hair down a little. You’re always so tightly wound, and this breakup didn’t exactly loosen the screws. Maybe it’s time to expand your horizons. Try something different. Someone different. Maybe this guy is the kind of non-Kent energy you need.”
“Okay, when did you get a PHD in Psychology?” I snapped.
“Reading radar maps and reading the human psyche are kind of the same thing. Both are temperamental and can change in a heartbeat,” he teased.
“Charlie, I love and appreciate you, but stick to doing the weather. You’re much better at that!”
“One last question, and then I promise I’ll ixnay the subject.” “What?” I didn’t even try to hide my annoyance.
“Do you call him Mr. Moreau or Grace’s daddy?”
“Goodbye, Charlie!” I blew him a kiss and disconnected our call.
Author Bio:
I've always had a passion for Creative Writing. There's something special about being able to travel to a different place or become a different person with just the stroke of a pen—or in today's world, a tap of the keyboard. Maybe it all started with the soap opera-level drama I used to script for my Barbie dolls. Plot twists, emotional arcs, surprise twins... it was basically a writer’s room before I even knew what one was. Whatever the spark, storytelling quickly became my favorite creative outlet. I craft stories that keep me on my toes and constantly push me beyond my comfort zone. Deep characters you either root for or love to hate are the ones I’m most drawn to.
Exploring new places helps me uncover fresh and exciting settings for my books, but there’s nothing quite like a quiet walk in the woods or sitting by the ocean close to home. Turns out, plot twists and inspiration arrive just as easily with a sea breeze—or a few curious squirrels.
Kasey Fallon is here to tell us about her contemporary romance Lifestyle: Trust Fall.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Lifestyle: Trust Fall
Kasey Fallon
Publication date: January 27th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
She needs a Dom.
A stalker wants to own her.
And once you’re in it, the LifeStyle never lets go.
On the outskirts of Philadelphia, the LifeStyle Club caters to those with certain… tastes.
Grayson is a born Dominant – and owning LifeS is exactly where he belongs. With a new underground fight arena ready to launch, he’s missing only one thing: a fighter strong enough to survive it.
Lexi has survived worse.
Haunted by PTSD, Lexi trusts no one but herself. She runs her own gym, makes her own rules, and refuses to submit – to anyone. But beneath her iron control lies a perilous secret. One that threatens to consume her… unless she can find a Dom.
When Grayson and Lexi collide, desire isn’t the only thing at stake.
Someone is watching.
Someone wants Lexi.
And in the LifeStyle, submission can be salvation – or a deadly mistake.
She couldn’t seem to find the clasp, and her breath was coming in short bursts. Her shirt felt too tight, her scalp was tingling, and in some part of her brain she was dimly aware that she was having a panic attack.
The gentle ding of the door opening didn’t register with her until a tall shadow fell across her. Attempting to breathe in a four-count, Lexi glanced up for less than a heartbeat at the baritone hello. She grunted in return and went back to hyperventilating, wishing they would walk away.
GRAYSON
For a moment, he was confused why she was hunched over on the bench. She was struggling with something… a necklace? Her breathing was coming in quick, uneven pants, and her gaze went straight through him.
“Good morning,” he tried casually.
He still had in mind that perhaps something he’d done or said the other day had been too much and she’d run. He had to be a little more tame, he thought. Casually being stalked, even for just one morning, was bound to put anyone on edge. At least until she was one hundred percent in, and he figured out what to do with her. But his good morning went unanswered.
Lexi made a garbled sound in the back of her throat, and he wondered if she was the opposite of a morning person. Or maybe-
“Do you need help?”
Her only response was those quick panting breaths. Her movements got more frantic, and she went to stand. Grayson placed a hand as gently as he could on her shoulder.
“Alexis. What’s wrong?”
She knocked his hand away and took two running steps to get past him. Panic. Without thinking it through, he caught up to her in one step. Spinning her around by her shoulder, he ignored the elbow that skimmed his diaphragm as she flailed behind her.
Using his forward momentum, he walked her backward until her back was against the wall. The white concrete must have been cool on her back, but her breath continued in short pants and a red flush was spreading across her chest and up into her face. She brought her hands up in fists and he thought for a heartbeat he might have to hold them down or he’d get hit. But her fingers just curled themselves into the edges of his t-shirt, grabbing on to something unidentifiable inside him. He ignored it.
She was looking at him, but she wasn’t seeing him. Her dark eyes were wide and wouldn’t focus, looking everywhere but into his. Both of his hands pushed her back against the wall by her ribcage.
“Alexis. Breathe.”
He used a deeper voice, mindful of startling her. Of course, he mused, she couldn’t get much more worked up than she already was. Maybe there was no harm in using his Dom voice. Much deeper than his speaking voice and sharp, he tried to reserve it for situations that needed it. This qualified.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he commanded.
Lexi jumped, but still didn’t look him in the eye. Her hands made their way to her throat, scratching at where her necklace lay. Grayson winced at the scratches. His voice whipped out.
“Stop.”
She stopped clawing at her own neck, but her breathing was still too fast.
“Breathe.”
It wasn’t working. He leaned forward, putting more of his weight against his arms. He slid his left forearm up between her breasts against her sternum, until his hand was splayed at the base of her throat, but he made sure to not actually touch her neck. She was having enough trouble breathing as it was.
One of her knees came up, and he pushed her thigh back with his knee against the wall, but it seemed like she didn’t even notice. Like the knee had been a reflex. He reached his right hand up to cup the side of her face and forced her face up to his.
“Look at me.”
It got through. Her breath was still heaving with shallow gasps, but she was looking straight up at him with wide eyes.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Lexi shuddered slightly.
“I can’t breathe. It’s too tight.”
His eyes flicked down to the thin silver chain at her neck. It was actually a very long chain, and held only a thin butterfly at the end. His lack of response seemed to agitate her, and she clawed at her neck again, this time not even hitting the chain. He raised his left hand a couple of inches to block her own hands.
“Stop moving.”
Her eyes were watery, but she stopped moving. For someone who might not be an actual submissive, she was certainly… responsive.
“I don’t want to die again.”
Her voice came out in a strangled whisper. Her eyes pleaded up at him. Shocked, Grayson could only stare at her for a moment.
“Breathe. I won’t hurt you. Stop moving.”
His voice had gotten slower with the commands, and she seemed mesmerized by his unblinking stare. She finally stopped pushing against his hands and relaxed against the wall, taking rapid, shallow breaths.
With his left forearm holding her still up against her sternum, he used his left hand to grab at the chain’s little clasp. He didn’t want to look away from her. It was working; he was completely in charge. She was breathing more steadily, and he didn’t want to break their eye contact.
Grayson finally got it to release, although he thought some part of it might have snapped. He slid it off her neck and held it loosely in his hand, but he didn’t move otherwise. He didn’t think she’d noticed that the necklace was gone.
“It’s gone. Breathe.”
Lexi inhaled deeply, and he was finding it difficult to back away. She had responded so perfectly; exactly as he’d wanted her to. Maybe she wasn’t a Domme? Could she really be submissive under all this fight? His body took that moment to recognize that he had her securely pinned against a wall, and she was staring up at him, waiting. He could see the exact moment when she fought it off as her eyes snapped with clarity. Grayson heard footsteps coming at them fast as she blinked rapidly.
“Lexi! What the fuck? Who the fuck is this? Are you okay?” Eddie jogged up, his short dreads bouncing.
Author Bio:
Kasey grew up on the East Coast, from Maine to North Carolina. She loves two things above all in nature: the water, and the forest. While she might not love her nightmares, they do inspire many of her works. A recipient of the Editor's Choice Award from the International Library of Poetry, she writes across several genres. She and her dog can be found investigating new hiking trails, or curled up on the couch as he pushes her computer off her lap to make room for himself.
Doc Blalock is here to tell us about A Damned Dirty Thing, The Jake Bishop Files, noir, paranormal sleuth, suspense.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Some cases require a gun.
Others need magic.
This one
demands both.
A Damned Dirty Thing:
The Jake Bishop Files
by Doc Blalock
Genre: Noir Paranormal Sleuth Suspense
The explosion should have killed him . . .
Jake Bishop is back on the streets of Solomon City, ten
months after a mob bombing destroyed his office and murdered his partner and
secretary. But Bishop isn’t just any private detective—he’s a “ditch wizard”
able to step through shadow and bend reality to his will.
When the beautiful and mysterious Portia Vance answers his
ad for a new secretary, Bishop thinks his luck might finally be changing.
Together, they begin hunting Vito Morelli, the mob boss who ordered the hit
that nearly ended Bishop’s life.
Their investigation leads them through the city’s darkest
corners—from strip clubs to shadow banking operations, from corrupt cops to
magical wards. But in a world where bullets and spells are equally deadly, and
where everyone has secrets worth killing for, Bishop discovers that the line
between hunter and hunted is thinner than he thought.
Some cases require a gun. Others need magic. This one
demands both.
In the shadows of Solomon City, justice comes with a
price—and revenge wears a beautiful face.
A gritty noir fantasy that proves sometimes the most
dangerous magic is the human heart.
Christopher “Doc” Blalock is a US Navy veteran Corpsman and retired
counselor. He is a prolific fine artist, illustrator, musician, sculptor and
writer, cursed with the itch to create. He draws inspiration from sources
ranging from JRR Tolkien to Tom Clancy. He additionally draws from his love of
classic black-and-white noir films, infusing their moody aesthetic and
storytelling into his writing. A helpless coffee addict, he lives in the
Atlanta suburbs with his childhood sweetheart and a dog of dubious moral
character.
J.J. Hebert is here to tell us about The Breaking of Time, Chronicles of the Arvynth #1, urban fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Breaking of Time J.J. Hebert (Chronicles of the Arvynth, #1) Publication date: November 25th 2025 Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
USA Today bestselling author J. J. Hebert’s brand-new urban fantasy series Chronicles of the Arvynth begins with The Breaking of Time, a novel about a devoted father whose desperate act to save his son fractures reality itself, awakening ancient magic and drawing him back into the path of an immortal order he once betrayed, where love, time, and silence collide in a race against eternity.
Mariel Hemingway’s Book Club Selection (Best Urban Fantasy):
“This novel is heartfelt, gripping, and memorable in all the best ways.” —Mariel Hemingway, Bestselling Author & Oscar-Nominated Actress ★★★★★
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ONE FATHER’S DESPERATE CHOICE FRACTURES TIME AND REALITY ITSELF.
To everyone around him, Daniel Ward is a mild-mannered accountant, devoted husband and father in a quiet New England suburb. But when his ten-year-old son chases a runaway soccer ball into the street, straight into the path of a speeding truck, Daniel does the impossible. He freezes time.
That single act of defiance exposes the secret he’s buried for decades. His magic awakens the ancient order he once betrayed, the Arvynth, a brotherhood of immortal sorcerers devoted to stillness and death, determined to silence the world.
As his carefully constructed life unravels, Daniel must protect his family while evading the brotherhood that hunts him. Every second he steals from time feeds the void that seeks to consume it, threatening not only the people he loves but reality itself.
Forced to choose between sacrifice and survival, Daniel discovers the truth: sometimes the loudest act of love is defiance.
The Breaking of Time is a race against eternity, a supernatural thriller that fuses urban fantasy and family drama in a story about the noise of life, the cost of power, and one father’s desperate fight to keep the world from falling silent.
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PRAISE FOR THE AWARD-WINNING URBAN FANTASY NOVEL THE BREAKING OF TIME:
“This work will grab readers’ attention early as Hebert combines a diverse array of genres—fantasy, thriller, family road novel, and others—into a fast-paced, character-driven adventure… An exciting, tightly written tale of magic… Our verdict: Get it.” —Kirkus Reviews
“The Breaking of Time is meticulously crafted to explore themes of love, loss, redemption, and the struggle to balance personal desires with greater responsibilities.” —BookLife/Publishers Weekly (EDITOR’S PICK)
“The Breaking of Time: Chronicles of the Arvynth delivers cinematic urban fantasy that bridges generations, echoing the mythic gravity and moral weight of J.R.R. Tolkien while unfolding within a sleek, contemporary world… This is prestige fantasy…” —Jesse Metcalfe, Award-Winning Actor ★★★★★
“An immersive paranormal thriller that balances the rich worldbuilding and in-depth lore characteristic of fantasy fiction with the all-too-human dramas of identity, family, and the consequences of secrecy.” —Independent Book Review (STARRED review)
“If you like magic that feels tactile and real, or if you enjoy emotional stakes wrapped inside supernatural danger, this book will hit the spot.” —Literary Titan★★★★★ (Gold Winner, Literary Titan Book Award: Fiction 2026)
“A smartly plotted supernatural thriller with a strong, charismatic protagonist to root for. A Wishing Shelf Recommended Read!” —The Wishing Shelf★★★★★
“A winning blend of the supernatural and family adventure that crackles with heart and imagination.” —BestThrillers ★★★★★
“A wonderfully complex dive into the world of fantasy… fast-paced, magical…” —Readers’ Favorite ★★★★★
I’ve spent years pretending to be someone I’m not.
The thought surfaces every morning when I shave, watching the face in the mirror—a face that should be ancient, centuries-old, but instead shows only the faint creases of a man in his early forties. A single gray hair at my temple that Elena keeps threatening to pluck. The kind of weathering that comes from the lost sleep of parenthood and mortgage payments, not from outliving empires.
To everyone else, I’m Daniel Ward—husband, father, the sort of man who mows the lawn on Saturdays and forgets garbage day at least twice a month. My neighbors wave when I’m pulling out the recycling bins, their smiles automatic and easy. Mrs. Dante from next door brings over her extra zucchini in late summer, always too much, always apologizing for the abundance. My coworkers at the accounting firm think I’m polite but quiet, the guy who keeps his head down and never complains about the coffee. My wife calls me dependable, though sometimes I catch a question in her eyes, a flicker of something she can’t quite name.
They all believe they know me.
They don’t.
The other man—the one buried under the flannel shirts and PTA meetings—still lurks somewhere beneath the surface. He’s the one who used to speak to the unseen currents of the world, who could twist wind and time if he chose, who once stood in a circle of elders and made the sky itself hold its breath. But I buried him twenty years ago, the day I first saw Elena across a crowded bookstore, her laugh carrying over the ambient music like a bell I didn’t know I’d been waiting to hear. I traded his power for peace, his truth for love, his ancient purpose for the warm weight of a child falling asleep on my chest. I told myself I could be normal, that five hundred and forty-three years of magic could be folded up and tucked away like old photographs in a drawer.
I even started to believe it.
Today was supposed to be an ordinary day. Another quiet Saturday, nothing more. But when does anything ever go as planned?
It was one of those deceptive autumn afternoons where New England shows off—sun bright and warm on the skin, gilding everything gold. The kind of day that makes you forget winter is coming. Trees along Brookfield Lane shed their red and gold. They carpeted the sidewalks in layers of crimson and amber, crunching underfoot like breaking glass. The whole world felt fragile, caught between seasons, holding its breath before the fall.
I stood at the end of our driveway, sipping coffee that had long gone lukewarm. The mug—a Father’s Day gift from three years ago with “World’s Coolest Dad” printed in fading letters—hung heavy in my hand, forgotten. I was watching the Hendersons’ cat stalk something invisible through their garden, its tail twitching with predatory focus, when Eli kicked his soccer ball a little too hard.
The sound was sharp—that hollow thwack of synthetic leather against a ten-year-old’s foot, released with more enthusiasm than aim. The ball bounced once, twice, then caught the curb at an angle and rolled into the street, picking up speed as it curved toward the stop sign at the corner.
Eli chased it before I could even form the word wait.
He wore his blue hoodie—the one with the frayed cuffs he refused to let Elena fix, the white stripes on the sleeves already graying from too many washes, and one drawstring longer than the other because he’d chewed on it during homework the night before. His sneakers were grass-stained, laces trailing, his gangly ten-year-old body a blur of elbows and knees as he ran with a reckless abandon only children possess. The kind of innocence that comes from not yet understanding that the world has teeth.
The ball slipped into the road, rolling lazily toward the middle of the lane. Eli followed without looking, without thinking, his whole world narrowed to that sphere of black and white pentagons.
And then I heard it.
An approaching car. Not the gentle whisper of someone cruising through the neighborhood, but the aggressive growl of speed—too much speed for a residential street. A truck came around the bend far too fast. The driver probably wasn’t paying attention, likely glancing at his phone or reaching for something on the passenger seat, thinking about anything but the quiet street where children played.
I felt my stomach drop, that vertiginous lurch that comes not from falling but from watching someone you love step off the edge.
The coffee mug slipped from my fingers, hitting the driveway with a dull crack. Coffee spread across the concrete in a dark stain that looked too much like blood.
“Eli!” I shouted. “Look out!”
He didn’t hear. The wind was wrong, carrying sound away from him, and he was bent over the ball now, just a few feet from the centerline, small hands reaching down to scoop it up. His hood had fallen back, revealing the stubborn cowlick at his crown that Elena had tried to smooth down this morning—the same stubborn swirl of hair I’d seen on Jonas five hundred years ago.
The driver saw him at the last minute—I could see the panic flash across his face through the windshield, his mouth opening in what might have been a shout or a curse. He tried to brake—the nose of the truck dipped as he slammed his foot down—but there wasn’t enough distance, not enough time.
The laws of physics are beautiful and merciless. Mass times velocity. Momentum conserved. A two-ton truck traveling at forty miles per hour needs approximately ninety feet to stop.
My son was thirty feet away.
The math was simple. The outcome inevitable.
Everything inside me fractured.
The years I’d spent pretending to be ordinary—gone, shattered like ice on pavement. The quiet life, the safe life, the carefully constructed fiction of Daniel Ward, the accountant—gone. Twenty years of restraint, of biting my tongue when the old words tried to surface, of letting the magic sleep dormant in my bones—all of it evaporated in the space between heartbeats.
My son was about to die, and the man I’d been pretending to be had no way to stop it.
The other man—the buried one—could.
It began as a vibration in my chest, not painful but insistent, like thunder humming before a storm breaks or the first tremor before an earthquake tears the world open. The sensation spread through my ribcage, resonating in the hollow spaces between bone, traveling down into my gut. My hands began to tingle, then burn, the old pathways of power waking, remembering their purpose.
The world thinned around me, like reality itself was just a membrane stretched too tight, waiting for permission to stop turning.
My vision sharpened with supernatural clarity—I could see each particle of dust hanging in the light, suspended like tiny stars. I could see the individual vibrations in the air, the way sound moves in waves, the molecular dance of oxygen and nitrogen. I could see the truck’s trajectory mapped out in lines of probability, see the exact angle at which metal would meet flesh, see the moment my son would stop being my son and become a memory, a ghost, another name added to the long list of those I’d failed to save.
The spell came unbidden to my lips, rising from a place deeper than thought, older than intention.
The syllables were hot and metallic on my tongue, tasting of copper and electricity, of blood and starlight. They weren’t English—weren’t any language spoken in many, many years.
They were Arvynth.
The old words.
The ones I’d sworn I’d never speak again.
“Fractura Tempora.”
The sound tore through the air like a blade through fabric, like lightning splitting the sky, like the world itself being unzipped at the seams.
And reality obeyed.
Author Bio:
J. J. Hebert is the #1 Amazon, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of eight books, including his acclaimed debut Unconventional and The Backwards K, which, according to Newsweek, is currently in development for film adaptation. His latest #1 bestsellers, both published in 2025, are The Breaking of Time: Chronicles of the Arvynth and The Hands-On Author: Taking Control of Your Book Marketing Journey. A lifelong New England resident, Hebert frequently weaves the region’s landscapes and atmosphere into his storytelling. He is also the award-winning CEO and Founder of MindStir Media, a leading hybrid book publisher. Join his community of over 2 million followers across Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter) @authorjjhebert.
Kevin G. Chapman is here to tell us about his mystery-thriller police procedural Treacherous Jack, a Mike Stoneman mystery #7.
There's also a great giveaway.
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One hacked file.
Three bodies.
Zero time.
Treacherous Hack
A Mike Stoneman Mystery #7
by Kevin G. Chapman
Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Police Procedural
From the
award-winning Mike Stoneman Thriller series comes Book #7 — a
gripping crime thriller set in the heart of a frozen New York City.
When electronics store owner Lou Palazzo is gunned down at a snowy Manhattan
intersection, NYPD homicide detectives Mike Stoneman and Jason Dickson catch a
case that’s anything but ordinary. Back at Lou’s shop, two Chinese nationals
linked to a powerful Shanghai cybercrime ring are dead. The only clue? A
missing laptop computer, possibly containing something Lou was willing to die
to protect.
Meanwhile, NYU student Ryan Gelb is panicking. His hacked laptop held the
stolen university data — data he quietly gave to his Uncle Lou. Now Lou is
dead, and whoever killed him is coming for the file. . . and for Ryan.
Caught between international cybercriminals, New York mobsters, and the police,
Ryan is desperate to recover the file and avoid being expelled — or worse,
executed.
As Mike and Jason untangle a web of secrets, lies, and digital deception,
they're met with stonewalling from all sides: NYU won’t talk, witnesses are
hiding the truth, and even their closest allies are keeping dangerous secrets.
With the body count rising and a deadly showdown looming, the race is on to
solve the mystery, recover the missing file, and avoid turning Lower Manhattan
into a bloodbath.
Perfect for fans of Michael Connelly,
John Sandford, and David Baldacci, this high-stakes police procedural mixes
hard-boiled action, cybercrime intrigue, and unforgettable characters in a
page-turning thriller you won’t be able to put down.
What readers are
saying:
“A page-turner of a police
procedural, with multiple cryptological clues and misdirections. The convoluted
plot is enough to keep readers on the edge of their seats throughout. While the
action is nearly nonstop, it is inevitable that readers along the way will get
invested in relationships such as that between Ryan and Star. All the main
characters and many of the minor ones keep dangerous secrets, demonstrating
once again the fallibility of human nature.”
~ S. W. Lawrence, MD, author of climate fiction including Climate
Dragon and Cloud Dragon.
“Chapman delivers another pulse-pounding thriller that seamlessly
weaves cybercrime, organized crime, and family loyalties into one explosive
narrative of how far people will go to protect their secrets. This high-stakes
thriller has non-stop action and suspense that culminates in a riveting
page-turner until the end.”
~ LoLo Paige, award-winning author of Alaska Firestorm and Alaska
Inferno.
“Treacherous Hack grabs you
from the first chapter and doesn’t let go! An exciting police procedural that
makes you feel like you’re on a ride-a-long with the detectives, conspiring
with the bad guys, and hanging out in a dorm room with the young guys caught in
the middle of it all.”
~ Laurel Heidtman, author of The Eden Mysteries.
“A pulse-pounding thriller that seamlessly weaves cybercrime, organized
crime, and family loyalties into one explosive narrative of how far people will
go to protect their secrets.”
~ LoLo Paige, award-winning author of Alaska Firestorm and Alaska
Inferno.
DETECTIVE MIKE STONEMAN CALLED OUT to
his partner as soon as Jason ducked under the crime scene tape stretched across
the sidewalk.
“Jason! Over here.” Mike waved his arm, beckoning Jason
toward the center of the intersection. Since Mike lived in Manhattan, he had
arrived fifteen minutes before his partner. A clot of officers and emergency
services personnel milled about without much urgency.
“Nice night,” Jason said sarcastically.
Mike, dressed in a down parka and a blue-and-orange knit hat
pulled down over his ears, grunted his agreement. Mike was a full five inches
shorter than Jason and twenty years older. Even in their winter clothes,
Jason’s style showed through, with his tailored wool overcoat, gloves, scarf,
and LL Bean duck boots. Mike had long since stopped worrying about the fact
that his partner was taller, better looking, in better shape, and a better
dresser. Mike possessed wisdom that came from experience, which was the one
thing Jason could not have. At least not until he had twenty-five years on the
force like Mike. They had been partners for five years.
A uniformed officer with a plastic cover over his hat
approached Mike as Jason arrived. “Detective Stoneman, the medical examiner is
finished. Can we remove the body now?”
“Not yet,” Mike responded. “I want Detective Dickson to get
a look at the scene first.”
The officer left to give his fellow officers the bad news –
they all had to stay outside their warm squad cars.
As they walked around the intersection, Mike gave Jason the
rundown. “The stiff’s name is Lou Palazzo. His wallet was in his pants pocket
with a driver’s license, so the ID was pretty easy. He’s got a record from
years back. Did three years in Sing Sing in the twenty-teens for conspiracy to
commit murder. He was connected to the Gallata family. Since he got out, he’s
had no arrests. He ran an electronics store and pawn shop over on the corner of
Avenue B, a block away.” Mike pointed to the far end of the block. “He had a
little cash and some credit cards in his wallet.”
Jason looked down at the remainder of the dead man’s head.
“So, not a robbery, then?”
Mike didn’t laugh. “The snow and slush on the street mangled
any physical evidence here, but there is blood in the snow outside his shop. It
looks like he was shot inside the shop in the shoulder, tried to escape in this
direction, then got caught here in the intersection and plugged once in the
head. No cell phone on him. He wasn’t wearing a coat, so he left in a hurry.
When we finish here, there are two more stiffs in the shop.”
“So, there’s more to see?” Jason asked.
“Oh, yeah. Plenty. We’ll get over there in a minute. The
officer in the first squad car saw two figures in the middle of the street from
a few blocks away and hit his lights. By the time he got here, Lou was dead on
the ground and the other person had fled the scene on foot.”
Jason squatted to get a look at the body without dipping his
knees into the slush. The kill shot entered the man’s head above his left ear
and exited through his neck – a clean kill, likely fired by a person standing
over the victim.
“Seen enough?” Mike asked.
“Sure. Thanks for doing the reconnaissance.”
“Let’s go see the shop. That’s where the action was.” Mike
turned to the west. “Oh, and by the way, was that Rachel I saw over there with
a cameraman?”
“Yeah,” Jason said without stopping. “She got a call from
her network to come work this scene. She’s been bugging them for weeks about
getting a chance to cover breaking news instead of the fluffy studio stuff. You
know, the healthcare pieces and emergency services and such. She’s been on the
on-call list every weekend since Halloween, hoping to get a call.
Unfortunately, tonight was the night.”
“You need to be careful, Jason. You can’t spill any
information to her. I know we talked about this possibly happening someday.
Well, shit just got real. Sully will have your hide if he thinks you’re feeding
her inside dirt on the investigation.”
“I know. I’m not telling her anything. But I can’t stop her
from working. This is a big deal for her.”
“Sure. I get it,” Mike said. “But be careful.”
“You don’t need to tell me.”
Don’t miss the
rest of the Mike Stoneman Mysteries!
Kevin G. Chapman is an attorney
specializing in labor and employment law. Kevin has now completed seven books
in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series: Righteous
Assassin (Kindle Book Award semi-finalist), Deadly Enterprise
(Kindle Book Award semi-finalist), Lethal Voyage, (Winner of the 2021 Kindle Book Award, CLUE finalist, RONE
finalist), Fatal Infraction (Best
Police Procedural of the year – CLUE Award),Perilous Gambit, Double
Takedown, and now, Treacherous Hack. In late 2022, Kevin published a
stand-alone mystery/thriller titled Dead Winner (CLUE Award - Best Suspense/Thriller of the year). Then, in 2024
came The Other Murder, winner of the CLUE Award Grand Prize (best suspense/thriller of the year) and
finalist for the National Indie Excellence Award. Kevin is a resident of
Central New Jersey and is a graduate of Columbia College and Boston University
School of Law. Readers can contact Kevin via his website at www.KevinGChapman.com.
Mary Karlik is here to tell us about Had Me At Howdy, a Hillside* Spring Creek Novel, romantic comedy, contemporary romance, young adult.
There's also a great giveaway.
________________________
Had Me At Howdy
Mary Karlik
(A Hillside * Spring Creek Novel)
Publication date: November 22nd 2025
Genres: Comedy, Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult
Platinum credit card? Deactivated. New car? Sold. Best life ever? Canceled.
Thanks to my dad losing his job, we’ve ditched Chicago for Fumbuck, Texas—population: redneck. Now I’m living on a rundown farm, scrubbing dishes, and driving a rusty pickup. Worst of all? I’m stuck working alongside a cowboy.
But this Cinderella isn’t giving up. I’ll claw my way back to the luxe life I left behind—and no one, not even infuriatingly chill, stupidly handsome Austin McCoy is going to stop me. Even if he does make feeding the chickens weirdly… enjoyable.
She thinks she’s just passing through. I’m hoping she stays.
I kind of feel for the Quinn sisters. City girls don’t belong in Spring Creek—but Kelsey? There’s more to her than designer labels and eye rolls. When she forgets to be angry, I see it—like the way her eyes light up when she feeds the chickens.
Now all I have to do is convince her the guy she really wants is me, not some rich dude taking her to a ball in Chicago.
Content Warning: This work contains a subplot involving death, grief, and an off-page instance of date rape. While these events are not depicted directly, they are referenced and may be distressing to some readers.
The universe had completely crapped on Kelsey Quinn’s life.
She dabbed at her eyes, blew her nose, and wadded up the tissue before dropping it to the pile on the seat next to her. Pressing her forehead against the car window, she watched the scenery fly by at seventy miles per hour. They passed Bob’s Stay and Go combination gas station—fast food restaurant—hotel, followed by some weird concrete starship-shaped pizza parlor. Next, three-foot fluorescent letters screamed about redemption across a junkyard fence surrounding rusted pieces of mangled metal. The few words of scripture painted there weren’t going change her fate. Her dad was in the driver’s seat and they were heading straight for the armpit of Texas.
With a sigh she slumped against the seat and tried not to think about the boyfriend who’d been ripped from her life, or the best friend she’d been forced to leave behind. But it wasn’t just her forced exile from Drew and Zoe. She’d lost her identity. At St. Monica’s, she knew who she was and where she fit in. It was her senior year, the year she’d looked forward to for as long as she was in school. They had taken it away with less thought than the car they’d sold one afternoon while she and Zoe were shopping. None of it was her fault. She was a victim of her dad’s incompetence on one hand and her sister’s immorality on the other.
Her dad exited onto a two-lane highway where they were greeted by a faded, Welcome to Hillside Texas, Population 5000, sign. They slowed to a crawl as they entered the town. At a four-way stop her mom screeched, “Oh my God Tom, look at the cute little diner. We’re all starving, let’s stop before we go to the house.”
“Sounds good to me. Jack’s not expecting us for another couple of hours anyway.” Dad angled the Infinity between two pickup trucks and turned off the engine.
Her younger sister, Ryan, looked all wide-eyed and curious. And worse, she actually looked excited to investigate this hick little town. Why not? It was her fault they were in this mess in the first place. Her parents would have been justified to ship Ryan off to some kind of school for troubled kids. But no—Quinns don’t give up on their own. Everybody had to suffer because Ryan couldn’t say no to drugs or boys.
Mackenzie, Kelsey’s youngest sister, flipped her compact gymnast’s body from the third seat to the back seat nailing Ryan in the shoulder with her foot.
“Watch it!” Ryan drew her fist back, but before she could get the hit off Mackenzie flashed a cherub smile and released a powder sugar apology. Yeah. That wasn’t an accident. Kelsey almost smiled when she saw foot impact with shoulder. Mackenzie had been fairly silent about the ruin Ryan’s exploits had done to her life. Apparently, she had her limits too.
Mary Karlik (also writing as Mary J. Wilson) combines her Texas roots with her Scottish heritage to write happily-ever-afters from Texas to Scotland.
Mary has five indie-published contemporary young adult romance novels and two fantasy novels.
Mary earned her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, has a B.S. degree from Texas A&M University, and is currently studying Scottish Gaelic at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig in Skye, Scotland. She is also a certified, professional ski instructor and a Registered Nurse.
Mary is an active member of Contemporary Romance Writers, Romance Writers of America, and Dallas Area Romance Authors. Married to a Scott, Mary lives in both and Scotland and Texas.
