One Leg on Earth - Horror - Occult Fiction - Thriller - and a Giveaway #Horror #OccultFiction #Giveaway

‘Pemi Aguda is here to tell us about One Leg on Earth, horror, occult fiction, thriller.

There's also a great giveaway.

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One Leg on Earth

‘Pemi Aguda

Publication date: May 5th 2026

Genres: Adult, Horror, Occult Fiction, Thriller

From the author of the National Book Award finalist Ghostroots, a debut novel that thrills with its eerie mix of folklore and history.

Something is haunting the pregnant women of Lagos. Across the city, they are walking into water . . . and drowning.

Twenty-three-year-old Yosoye arrives in Lagos ready to start her life. Working for a slick architectural firm, she finds a city of adventure and opportunity. Her new world is one of fancy gallery openings, glamorous friends, and all the shiny potential of the future, encapsulated in projects like Omi City, the ultra-luxury development her company is building, a symbol of the dawn of a brighter Lagos.

But Yosoye’s idyllic vision of Lagos soon begins to seem naive, and its darker, stranger layers trouble her. Something is not right about Omi City, and as construction speeds ahead, stories of strange deaths in the city’s open waters reach a fever pitch. And then, after a chance encounter, Yosoye discovers she is pregnant . . . a revelation which puts her on a collision course with an inexplicable force that is as seductive as it is deadly. A masterwork by a writer hailed as “an astonishing talent” (Lauren Groff), One Leg on Earth is an ambitious novel like no other: a coming-of-age story, an uncanny exploration of motherhood, and a chilling vision of the dark side of progress.

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EXCERPT:

MIRIAM AIKI PRAYED FOR THE FRUIT OF THE WOMB for thirteen years. Thirteen years of chafed knees: blood and shredded skin staining church altars, shrine altars, her bedside rug, her mother-in-law’s living room tiles. Thirteen years begging for a miracle, for strength, for patience. Her cries were answered. At thirty-eight, her womb was unfurling its first bloody fruit.

Now, in the passenger seat of her husband’s car, she smiled at her taut six-month belly. An ugly joy stirred within her. Ugly because it sat heavy on top of her growing baby, nausea amassing saliva in her mouth. But mothers who’d hunted long for that title knew that this unpleasantness was welcome, embraced.

Miriam smoothed a hand over her lace buba. She smiled at her husband, Victor, who frowned at the standstill traffic. They were running late for his cousin’s wedding and hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. His knuckles tapped an agitated beat on the steering wheel along to soft jazz playing on the radio. Past her husband’s head, the blue BRT bus keeping them in merciful shadow advertised a “We Are Lagos” music concert. Celebrating our oneness together! Miriam turned her beaming face to her window, gap-tooth a narrow darkness in an otherwise white smile.

These shining eyes, these stretched lips, these deep dimples. The people of Third Mainland Bridge stuck in traffic with Miriam would always remember the fizzy happiness in these details.

Miriam’s bliss bubbled up, feathering her insides, shimmering around her baby, erupting from her throat in a giggle—a curious misplaced sound in that car.

Victor turned to her, startled. His hand brushed her thigh, her rounded belly.

“Are you okay?”

Miriam giggled again. Her head slid down the leather headrest, neck tilting backward for more happiness to escape, clavicle bared to her husband’s confused gaze. This frothing joy within Miriam, she wanted to warble it out, to dance through it, until she and her baby were heady with the fervor of it.

She pushed the passenger door open. Stepped out. Victor sat there, blinking in shock for what would later seem like two lifetimes. The humid air crowded in to displace cool air-conditioning. He clicked the radio off, leaned toward the open mouth of the door.

“Miriam? What are you doing?”

Miriam kicked her sandals off, flung the fuchsia-pink slingbacks behind her. One heel struck the car’s bonnet, leaving a silver chink. She wound between the bridge’s stalled vehicles: engines turned off; gears stuck in neutral. She skipped and spun and squealed. Even in the midst of that sweltering Lagos day of thumping car music and raucous engines and the truck that honked at her for dancing too close, Miriam’s squeal stood out, a siren.

Passengers lowered their half-eaten Pure Bliss wafers and leaned out of windows to watch this odd but entertaining episode. Drivers, stretching their legs in small huddles, paused their whining—about traffic and heat and wives and money and that new backache that made their worlds flush dark when they bent at the wrong angle. All necks craned toward Miriam. Hawkers hitched boxes higher and nudged each other to behold the spirited pregnant woman.

Miriam swayed, shoulders shaking with laughter at a joke nobody else could hear. Her legs kicked. Hands stretched, twirling as if being spun about. What joy! What joy!

Victor leaned on the horn. His feet hit tar, finally going after her. Had she gone mad? He yelled her name, using the tone his father wielded on his mother, demanding Miriam return to the car immediately.

But Miriam didn’t want to get back in the car. She wanted to dance, to be free, to glide forward with the happiness surging from her womb, her baby. Her husband navigated between fascinated watchers. He shouted, “Miriam! Miriam! Miriam!” But by the time he got to the railings, she had launched herself off Third Mainland Bridge, laughing and screeching into the lagoon below, belly-first, like a child jumping into the arms of a beloved parent.

Author Bio:

Pemi Aguda is a Nigerian writer known for her short stories and debut collection Ghostroots (2024). Her work often explores complex themes surrounding motherhood, identity, and the supernatural. Ghostroots, which includes previously published stories such as "Breastmilk" and "The Hollow", was a finalist for the 2024 National Book Award for Fiction and received critical acclaim for its unifying themes and narrative cohesion.

Aguda's stories have been widely recognized, earning multiple accolades, including an O'Henry Award in 2022 for "Breastmilk" and again in 2023 for "The Hollow". Additionally, "Breastmilk" was shortlisted for the 2024 Caine Prize for African Writing. Her forthcoming novel, The Suicide Mothers, which won the 2020 Deborah Rogers Foundation Award, is slated for release in 2025.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram

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Night Times Trilogy - Paranormal Vampire Romance Thrillers - and a Giveaway #Romance #Paranormal #Vampire #Thriller #Trilogy #Giveaway

Eileen Sheehan is here to tell us about Night Times Trilogy, paranormal vampire romance thrillers.

There's also a great giveaway.

___________________

The darkest hour is only the beginning in the world of shadows.

Night Times Book One

Night Times Trilogy 1

by Eileen Sheehan

Genre: Paranormal Vampire Romance Thriller

For two hundred years, Ethan has haunted the shadows, carrying the heartbreak of losing Judith, the wife he loved before he was unwillingly turned into a vampire.

When he meets Arabella at a costume party, he's stunned by the similarities she shares with Judith. As their connection deepens, Ethan becomes convinced that Arabella is Judith reborn. But with her returning memories come dangerous secrets—knowledge from a centuries-old vampire-hunting society that could threaten the existence of every vampire alive.

Now, hunted by both a ruthless Vampire League and relentless vampire hunters, Ethan and Arabella find themselves caught in a deadly struggle between love, loyalty, and survival. As enemies close in and the past refuses to stay buried, Ethan must choose between losing Arabella forever or offering her the immortality that was forced upon him.

Night Times (Book One) begins a captivating vampire romance thriller trilogy that is filled with, forbidden love, deadly secrets, and a passion that defies time itself.

 

What readers are saying:

 

“For fans of supernatural thrillers involving vampires, Night Times has got everything they crave... Sheehan has created yet another immersive fantastical world full of vampires, witches, and monster hunters. The book is fast-paced, and since I was enjoying it so much, the pages just flew by….You're going to love this!”

 “… Sheehan doesn’t just focus on romance. She digs into what love and trust really mean when everything’s on the line. There’s also a raw look at what it means for a vampire to lose their humanity—how turning immortal tears you away from who you used to be, and from people you once knew. Immortality in this story isn’t just sparkling and forever-young; it comes with a price: isolation, loss, and sometimes the fading of your own sense of self. Still, there’s a flip side—it can mean never-ending love and the fierce desire to protect…… If you’re in the mood for a supernatural drama that goes beyond the usual tropes—one that really leans into the pain, the memories, and the kind of love that won’t quit—this book is definitely worth your time.”

  

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Prologue

The rain came down in silver threads and turned the road to black glass on the night that Ethan’s reality was changed forever.

He remembered that more clearly than he remembered his own face from that time. Faces changed in memory. They were smoothed by years and grief until they became something like paintings. But weather remained exact. The smell of wet earth. The sting of cold through wool. The way the world looked when it was nearly dark and every lamp in the distance seemed to float like a warning.

He had been running then from the thing that had already happened to him.

He had not yet learned that becoming a vampire did not feel like entering a new life. It felt like being torn from the old one with enough violence to leave a permanent shape in the soul. At first there had been only pain, then thirst, then a terrifying clarity that came with the hunger. He had not completely grasped what he was but that realization was soon to come.

And because he had understood that, he had run.

He stood now beneath the branches of the elm at the edge of the lane with the rain slipping through the leaves onto his face while he watched the light in his own house glow through the windows.

Home. The word struck him with unbearable force.

Inside, his wife and love of his life, Judith, would be setting down her sewing and folding the blanket over the arm of the chair. She would be waiting for him, although she might pretend not to be. She always pretended not to wait, as if waiting was too revealing a sort of love. But Ethan had always known. He had known by the way that she paused when she heard his footstep and by the way that she turned before he spoke while already smiling.

He’d spent three hours pacing the woods beyond the property line while fighting his own body as if it was a wild animal. His mouth still burned. His throat ached with a need so vast that it felt like a second heart beating where his was supposed to be. He had torn at his own cuff, bitten the inside of his mouth until it bled, and shoved his hands into the mud to keep from running back to the house.

The problem was that he could still smell her….

 

…“Stay where you are,” he gruffly ordered.

Her mouth slightly parted with fear. “You’re frightening me.”

He could not bear that. Not from her.

The room wavered at the edge of his vision. Hunger rose up in him with a vicious, animal certainty. And for one impossible instant he saw her as prey - not Judith, not wife, not the woman who had braided ribbons into her hair and fallen asleep reading beside the fire, but a pulse of life that he could take with one movement.

He stumbled backward.

Judith’s expression changed to alarm as she exclaimed, “Ethan!”

“No!” he bellowed. The word came out raw.

The flame shivered as she set the candle down too quickly and took a step toward him. “Tell me what happened.”

He violently shook his head. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth again, although he knew there was no wound there now. “You must not come near me.”…

 

…When Judith finally spoke, her voice was broken but steady. “Ethan.”

He closed his eyes. “Yes?”

Her voice trembled as she said, “Do not disappear from my life forever.”

That was the moment when he nearly broke. He put one hand on the doorframe to steady himself. When he spoke, his voice was almost gone. “I will try not to.”

Then he stepped out into the rain and left the house before the dawn could find him.

He never forgot the sound of the door closing behind him. He never forgot the way that Judith had stood in the light, frightened and loving and still reaching for him. And for the centuries that followed, through blood, hunger, survival, and loneliness so deep that it became a second skin, he carried one unbearable truth with him - the night he abandoned Judith, he had not yet understood that immortality was not the curse.

The curse was living long enough to remember the exact shape of the love that you were forced to leave behind.

Night Times Book Two

Night Times Trilogy 2

Arabella was supposed to be dead.

After faking her death to escape the vampires who want her gone, Arabella and Ethan disappear into Las Vegas, hoping to build a life free from fear, secrets, and bloodshed.

For six months, they succeed.

Then Olive discovers the truth.

Obsessed with Ethan and unwilling to accept his love for another woman, Olive sets out to destroy everything they've built. As jealousy turns to vengeance, Ethan and Arabella are thrust into a nightmare that will change them forever.

Filled with danger, betrayal, suspense, and immortal love, Night Times: Book Two is a gripping paranormal romance about how far people will go for love—and how deadly obsession can become.

 

Amazon * Apple * Bookbub * Goodreads

 

Night Times Book Three

Night Times Trilogy 3

Arabella survived death, but immortality comes with a price.

As she learns to embrace life as a vampire under Ethan's guidance, the memories of her torture and murder refuse to fade. While vampire society struggles to accept her return, Arabella secretly plots revenge against the vampires responsible for her suffering—including the woman who wanted her dead.

One by one, her enemies begin to disappear.

As fear spreads through the vampire community and suspicion grows, Arabella must balance her thirst for vengeance with the future she's building alongside Ethan. But some wounds can only heal in darkness, and some debts can only be paid in blood.

Night Times: Book Three is a dark paranormal romance filled with vengeance, passion, secrets, and a love strong enough to survive death.

 

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Get the Night Times Trilogy Box Set Here!

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Eileen Sheehan is an Internationally published, Best Selling and Award-Winning author of paranormal romance thrillers & horror for the mature adult. A professional and full-time spiritual advisor and holistic practitioner for over 30 years, the majority of her 76+ novels feature the paranormal, but some are novels about people in love, and a very few are self-help. Eileen incorporates experiences through the years along with her imagination to provide the best believable and entertaining read possible. As the years progressed, so has her writing style. Although she still includes romance and strives for a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and a touch of horror in them.

A former busy working mother (who is now a laid-back grandmother), Eileen understands the value of time. She makes it a point to write novels that are able to be enjoyed in one or two evenings.

 

Website * Facebook * FB Group * Instagram * Bluesky * TikTok * Bookbub * Goodreads

 

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False Connections - Thriller - Action - and a Giveaway #Thriller #Action #Giveaway

Steve Sheppard is here to tell us about False Connections, thriller, action.

There's also a great giveaway.

________________________

She's ex-MI5.

MI5 wants her dead.

Who can she trust?

False Connections

by Steve Sheppard

Genre: Thriller, Action

"Thriller addicts won't be disappointed"
"Steve Sheppard has created another great character in Mel Milano."

Three years ago, Mel Milano was an MI5 intelligence officer with a promising career. Then, during a routine protection and surveillance operation in Wales, things went drastically wrong and three people died, including Mel’s partner and fiancé, Liam Webster.

Drummed out of the service on trumped-up charges by MI5 Deputy Director, Sarah Brook, Mel lost her career, her self-respect, her confidence and her fiancé. Nothing made sense.

Three years on, she is rebuilding her life, working for a private security outfit.
But she’s never forgiven the way she was dumped by MI5. One day she’ll discover the truth about Brook and what was really going on.

Now, though, it’s clear that Mel’s not the only one still holding a grudge. Suddenly everybody seems to want her dead. But why?

On the run from MI5, is there anyone Mel can trust to help her uncover the past?

 

Amazon * Goodreads

The door opens noisily, bringing with it a gust of chilly air. I turn on my stool, expecting to see Adam. I’m formulating some sort of suitably sarcastic barb. It’s not Adam, however. Instead, two men have entered. Strangers. Adam once said he found it odd that so many people he didn’t know came to The Crown but the place is his choice and I don’t come here so often that I’m going to know all the regulars. I look away from the new arrivals but immediately feel a tap on my shoulder. I’m never happy when strange men think they have the right to touch me and I tense, my hand gripping the whiskey glass slightly more tightly.

Still, it isn’t the time and place to make a scene so I relax again and look at the man who’s tapped me on the shoulder. He’s about forty, similar height to me, dark suit and tie, blond hair trimmed to within an inch of its life, and he’s holding a warrant card. I may not know all the regulars of The Crown but I thought I knew all the local coppers. There aren’t many and I’ve had dealings with most of them during the past year, one way or another. This guy is not an East Hampshire plod though. Behind him and to one side, his colleague, younger, bigger, also fair-haired, is staring at me with tight little eyes. A bully’s eyes. He looks like he’s itching for a fight. In other circumstances, I might have been happy to oblige but Kaylee had clearly been round the bar with a cloth and cleanser before opening and I wouldn’t want to bloody her handiwork. Nor would the subsequent paperwork have appealed.

Detective Sergeant Aaron Walcott, I read on the warrant card. Metropolitan Police. He’s off his patch. He says nothing so I say nothing right back at him. It’s definitely up to Walcott to start the conversational ball rolling so I pick up my glass and drain it. I don’t want to waste any bourbon if this plays out as I’m beginning to think it might.

Eventually he speaks. Maybe he was rehearsing his lines. ‘Miss Melanie Marie Milano?’ he says.

 

Steve Sheppard was born and grew up in Surrey before moving to Buckinghamshire and then to Oxfordshire, where he spent a quarter of a century living in an idiosyncratic village that was the affectionate inspiration for his fourth book, Lazytown. He now lives in Hampshire. He spent forty years starting to write books but not finishing them, until belatedly realising that the key is not to give up. The other thing he has since learned is that he should have become a celebrity before writing a book, as this would have made selling it much easier. 

 False Connections is Steve’s fifth book, but the first one written as a straight thriller and not primarily as a comedy, although it does contain humour. He hopes it will be the first of a series featuring feisty, funny but flawed ex-MI5 agent, Mel Milano. He also has three spy thrillers with laughs to his name, all published by Claret Press: A Very Important Teapot (2019), set in Australia, Bored to Death in the Baltics (2021), not set in Australia, and Poor Table Manners (2024), which takes place in Cape Town.  These feature an initially fairly hapless hero, Dawson, and a considerably less hapless heroine, Lucy, together with varied supporting casts, most of whom are not who they claim to be. Steve’s fourth book is an out-and-out comedy-murder-mystery, Lazytown (2025).

  

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The Good Sister - Psychological Thriller - and a Giveaway #Thriller #PsychologicalThriller #Giveaway

Bonnie Traymore is here to tell us about The Good Sister, a psychological thriller.

There's also a great giveaway.

____________________

When Casey's mirror twin goes missing, 

she's led to a dark and deadly paradise where nobody escapes...

The Good Sister

by Bonnie Traymore

Genre: Psychological Thriller

When her mirror twin goes missing, Casey is led to a deadly paradise where no one escapes…

Casey and Nora are mirror twins, identical—sort of. Casey is right-handed, Nora is left-handed. Their moles sit on opposite cheeks. In terms of personality, they are also diametrically opposed.

So, when her high-strung sister disappears after a fight with her husband, Casey shouldn’t be as concerned as she is. Nora’s done it before.

But this time, things feel different. It’s a twin thing; Casey knows it in her bones. Something is terribly wrong.

Casey hires private investigator who discovers that Nora’s been on the dark web—lured by an entity that calls itself Switzerland, promising to take away your pain and leave you in a state of eternal bliss, for a hefty fee.

The trail leads to a luxury wellness retreat hidden in the Mexican jungle. Determined to find her sister before it’s too late, Casey poses as a resort guest and heads to Mexico to rescue her sister.

As Casey digs deeper, she finds something far more sinister than she could have imagined, and it’s possible that neither of them will get out alive.

“Gripping, twisty, and impossible to put down. This one is a must-read for thriller fans with an ending you won’t see coming!” – Caleb Stephens, bestselling author of You’ll Never Know.

“What a thriller. Seriously. Mirror twins who could sense and feel each other's pain and emotions. Just imagine where that could take you.” NetGalley

“A brilliant book. Just top tier brilliant kind of reading for me. I still feel excited and humming from it even now thinking about it again just to write my review.” – NetGalley

“This novel is a compelling, high-stakes ride through deceit and psychological drama. I cannot recommend this book highly enough for fans of intricate, character-driven thrillers.” -NetGalley

Perfect for fans of gripping psychological thrillers, chilling domestic suspense, missing sister mysteries, dark web conspiracy novels, and mind-bending women's fiction with shocking twist endings. If you love twisty, unputdownable thrillers with strong female leads, sinister secrets, and heart-pounding suspense — you won't be able to put this down.

 

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PROLOGUE

Move, my brain screams—my arms and legs lag behind.

Blood pools behind her head, oozing out over the tile floor. Her eyes roll back into a blank stare. If I want to get out of here, this is my only chance. I don’t have much time before someone misses her.

I grab the key card out of her coat pocket and gingerly pull off her lab coat, being careful not to stain it with the growing river of blood.

As I slip on her white coat, my head darts around for something I can use as a weapon–but this isn’t a surgical center. No scalpels. No razors. Nothing sharp.

Syringes.

Scads of them.

Yes, this can work.

I fumble through the medicine cabinet, and it’s like a candy store for drug addicts.

Ketamine.

Midazolam.

Haldol.

Potassium chloride, instantly deadly.

But only if I can hit a vein.

Nope. Too risky.

I rip a syringe open with my teeth, push in the plunger, tear open the vial tabs, and stab the needle into the first vial, then the second. I fill the syringe with a lethal dose of ketamine and midazolam, hoping that it will work fast enough, if it comes to that.

Two or three minutes or so for onset, injected into a muscle.

I’ve never envisioned myself as a murderer. But what choice do I have?

Footsteps outside the door stop me in my tracks.

Someone’s hovering, and I can only hope they don’t call out her name.

She moans.

She’s alive?

What if she cries out for help?

Sweat moistens my palms as I wait. I wipe away the dampness, willing myself to calm down. I can’t afford to have slippery fingers with what I’m attempting.

Now it’s quiet. Too quiet. I didn’t hear footsteps or anyone leaving.

Are they just standing there?

Maybe they heard our scuffle?

If she makes a sound, I’m as good as dead.

I rip open another syringe, grab a vial of potassium chloride out of the cabinet, and fill it. On reflex, I tap it to get out the air bubbles, and a nervous chuckle slips out.

What’s the point of that?

I find a vein on the top of her hand, which is creepily warm. She seems to have passed out again, or else she’s dead. But I’m pretty sure she’s still alive, although I can always tell myself she wasn’t. But I’m not positive.

Can I actually do this?

For a split second, I hesitate.

Before this moment, it was self-defense.

It’s her or me, though, so I prepare to jab the needle into her vein.

Instead, I check again for a pulse.

She’s dead … I’m pretty sure.

The door handle turns.

I rush behind the door and ready my other syringe. My heart’s pounding so hard, I’m afraid someone will hear it. My pulse thrums in my ears as I await what’s next.

Then the handle catches, the lock saving me–or whoever’s on the other side.

I wait in stillness as the sound of a woman’s heels click, click, clicking on the tile floor fades to silence, willing my racing pulse to slow.

At least it’s not Cameron.

Then I make my move.

 

PART ONE

One month earlier

ONE

Nora

The pain is unbearable, deep in the pit of my stomach, the scars of a lifetime suddenly ripped open. I haven’t slept for days. I don’t even know my own mind.

Dipping in and out of consciousness, I’m kept barely functional by little microsleeps. My head aches behind my eyes. I’d give anything to fall into the black abyss, where all my problems dissolve into the quiet darkness.

Soft meditation music plays in the background.

“It’s not your fault,” a voice calls out to me. “Life is hard,” it continues, the ding … ding … ding of the bells hypnotic, comforting. “We can take away your pain. Come to Switzerland. Find your inner peace.”

Tears pool in my eyes.

“It’s all going to be okay,” I tell myself.

I click on the link.

It looks so peaceful there.

For the first time in months, I have hope.

Tears stream down my face as I absorb it all.

Taking away my pain.

It sounds so tempting.

I want to believe.

I need to believe.

So, I do.

And that is my first mistake.

Bonnie Traymore is the Amazon bestselling author of fourteen domestic/psychological thrillers. Her thrillers feature strong but relatable female protagonists who peel back the layers of suburban American life and give readers a peek inside. The plots explore difficult topics such as jealousy, infidelity, murder, and the impact of psychological disorders, but she also includes bits of romance and humor to lighten the mood from time to time.  

Bonnie loves Hitchcock movies, psychological thriller novels, coffee, and dark chocolate, not necessarily in that order and sometimes simultaneously. She has a doctorate in United States history and resides in Honolulu with her family. She's an active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America.

 

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