Verity Rose is here to tell us about First Light - Tales of the Vanguard: Rune Saga Book 1, an epic fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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A promise filled with hope in a world not meant for dreamers
First Light
Tales of the Vanguard: Rune Saga Book 1
by Verity Rose
Genre: Epic Fantasy
In a world struggling with political and religious
differences, eighteen-year-old Arkrune—"Rune" to his friends—dreams
of something greater than the quiet life in his small village of Locke. Trained
by his stern but loving father, a renowned blacksmith and former warrior, Rune
sets his sights on joining the famous monster fighting guild known as the
Vanguard.
When Rune embarks on his journey to the city of Hilden to pursue his destiny,
he carries with him more than just a finely crafted sword—but also a mystery
tied to his bloodline and the dormant power within him. Along the way, Rune
forms bonds with battle-hardened warriors, fends off deadly attacks by monsters
and men alike, and begins to uncover the hidden strengths he didn’t know he
possessed.
Verity Rose grew up in a blink and you’ll miss it Indiana
town where the school library doubled as an escape hatch. She wrote her first
fantasy scenes at thirteen, lost the thread for a while, wrestling with
undiagnosed ADHD and mental health potholes. She rediscovered her voice after
becoming a mom and stumbling into a gaggle of online book nerds who egged her
on. Armed with a social work degree from Ball State and a lifelong conviction
that characters are as real as the hands on the keyboard, she now pours that
people first empathy into stories that refuse to stay quiet.
When she isn’t tormenting her characters, Verity is probably
reverse engineering a Korean street food recipe, sourcing single origin coffee
beans from ethical roasters, or hoarding trash in Dragon Age or Skyrim. Her
literary inspiration is equal parts Rick Riordan’s mythic swagger, Suzanne
Collins’ high stakes heart, and John Flanagan’s cozy camaraderie.
Verity was raising her family (and her caffeine tolerance)
amid Indiana cornfields and now adventures in the Pacific Northwest with them.
She’s always down to swap book recs, coffee tips, or preferred RPG builds.
Sharon Overend is here to tell us about Look Over Your Shoulder, women's fiction.
There's also a great giveaway.
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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sharon Overend will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
A haunting, lyrical exploration of family, silence and the secrets we inherit.
Years of avoidance and blame have left the McLaughlin clan fractured and ill-equipped to face the critical illness of one of their own. When long buried memories of a neighborhood child’s death while in their care resurface the family truly begin to unravel.
Told in alternating voices, Look Over Your Shoulder, reveals how secrets ripple through generations, and how healing begins when someone finally dares to speak the truth.
Read an Excerpt
ANNE
I slipped away. In slow motion, I raised one foot after the other, one step at a time, upstairs. My limbs now disconnected from my body, my head bobbing in a black fog, I drifted across the hall and toward my bedroom. I lay on top of the covers but dragged a throw over my hip.
The buzz of distant conversations crawled into the room, and my window shook each time the front door opened or closed. Knuckles rapped, an empty hanger slapped against the door panel, the buzz amplified, feet shuffled forward, a presence lingered, a hand touched my arm, a voice whispered.
“Mom.”
I said nothing until her feet shuffled back toward the door.
“I’m sorry,” I sighed into the pillow seconds before the hanger again rattled, and the hum of voices roared back into the room. I wasn’t sure whether I’d wanted her to hear me or not.
“For what?” She had heard.
“For resenting you.”
The weighty creak of floorboards, a car engine idling, a woman’s laughter, a child’s shriek, a toilet flush.
“You’re tired,” Marilyn said, now close enough to touch me. “Sleep.”
“You scare me,” I said, still telling the pillow, not her. “Your strength and your capacity for forgiveness are things I’ve never experienced before. But I have to know. Have you ever forgotten?” Shame had stalked me my whole life, a shadow dancing across my peripheral vision, now fully in view.
“We’ll talk in the morning.” She lifted the fringed edge of the blanket, pulled it over my shoulder, and tucked it beneath my chin. A blue spark of static electricity sprang between her fingers and my face.
About the Author:
SHARON OVEREND, is an award-winning author whose fiction, creative non-fiction and poetry has appeared in the Canadian, American and British literary journals and anthologies including Antigonish Review, Avalon, Descant, Grain, Matter of Time, Spirit of the Hills, Surfacing, Wild Words, Word Weaver, UK’s Dream Catcher, CafeLit, The Best of CafeLit and A Coup of Owls.
Sharon and her husband live on a 156- rural acre property in Ontario, Canada where she has found inspiration for many of her projects.
Kristen Illarmo is here to tell us about Against the Red Sky: Mission X, a YA science fiction thriller.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Two missions, one conspiracy, zero room for mistakes- or
feelings.
Against the Red Sky:
Mission X
by Kristen Illarmo
Genre: YA Science Fiction Thriller
Enzo Cruz knows
sacrifice. After a failed
mission to assassinate the billionaire behind the Mars colony—and the loss of
his grandfather—he’s ready for redemption. His new target? The Mars Ascendance
Academy shuttle. His orders: infiltrate, sabotage, escape.
As the youngest
operative in Terra Primera, Enzo’s talent with explosives could tip the balance
in Earth’s fight for survival. But inside the Academy, nothing goes to
plan—especially when Maddie Westing enters the picture.
Maddie has dreamed
of joining her mother on Mars since she was ten. Now she has her shot: one of
thirty elite students in the Academy’s inaugural class. But being the niece of
the colony’s powerful founder comes with strings—and shadows.
When Enzo’s
mission collides with Maddie’s quest for truth, both teens are thrust into a
conspiracy that threatens Earth and Mars alike. Loyalties will be tested.
Secrets will be exposed. And the greatest danger may not come from the skies—it
may lie in their hearts.
In this
heart-pounding YA thriller, survival means risking everything—including the
people you thought you hated most. For fans of The Hunger Games, Red Rising, and Aurora
Rising—Against the Red Sky delivers explosive tension,
star-crossed loyalty, and a high-stakes rebellion that could destroy two
worlds.
What readers
are saying:
"This YA novel is one long dopamine hit, an insightful
saga with crush-worthy protagonists. Enzo, pulled between his ecoterrorism
world and a gnawing realization that there may be flaws to his organization's
methods, is a vibrant, well-executed character. Maddie's journey parallels his
in many ways, and her resolve, spirit, and appealing energy make her equally
entertaining. Their two paths collide, and Illarmo delivers a twisty
examination of greed, loyalty, and the dark motives that drive people when pushed
to their limits." Rated 10 out of
10.
-The BookLifePrize
“This is one of the best books I’ve read this year and I
have read over a hundred so far! This is a nail biting, page turning
masterpiece that will completely have you mesmerized and under its spell by the
first few chapters!” ARC reviewer
“Great, fast-paced fun story with lots of twists and turns
that kept me turning the pages. It has elements of academy, romance, scifi, and
thriller that kept me up late reading.” ARC reviewer
Kristen Illarmo is a New Orleans-based author of young adult
science fiction and fantasy. Her action packed, character-driven stories
explore the ripple effects of real-world choices, set in decaying societies and
with tangled family dynamics. Her debut duology, Kirasu Rising, was featured at
the 2023 Louisiana Book Festival.
When a snowstorm traps Bryce Richardson in a secluded Vermont cabin with the one woman he never stopped loving, he’s supposed to be focused on security—not second chances. But Rachel Porter, daughter of Senator Porter and the only woman who ever really knew him, is back in his life with a desperate ask: pretend to be her boyfriend for the holiday… and keep her alive.
Silverberry Ridge might look like a picture-perfect winter postcard, but beneath the twinkling lights and pine-scented air, political power plays and security threats swirl. As Titan Group protects the senator’s hush-hush summit, danger creeps closer. For Bryce, duty comes first. For Rachel, survival means trusting the man who once broke her heart.
In a cabin filled with holiday tension, buried feelings reignite and the lines between fake and forever blur. But when enemies close in, the question isn’t whether love gets a second chance—it’s whether it survives at all.
A Very Titan Christmas is a sexy holiday romance with a guaranteed happily ever after and plenty of familiar faces as the Titan Group couples and kids show up to ring in the holidays!
“This is my boyfriend.” The words had come out of her mouth, but she heard her voice as if she were listening to an audiobook, as if someone else had made this outrageous claim, all the while sounding very unsure.
Roman snorted, then coughed to cover his reaction.
Bryce stepped back, but Rachel stayed with him. There was no way she would let him run away without prying off her fingers because, at this point, she would rather die than face her mother with the truth.
His muscles tensed under her grip, but she refused to let go. “Bryce, you remember my mother.”
“We met earlier,” Eloise pointed out. “When it seems he wasn’t your boyfriend.”
“Can I have a word with you?” he whispered under his breath, but they were all close enough that everyone heard.
Rachel still didn’t let him go and decided to ignore him. She addressed her mother. “You remember we dated in high school?”
Eloise slowly blinked. “And, in the course of two hours, found yourself dating again?”
“Yes, absolutely. We’re so happy.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Bryce asked again. He laid a hand on top of the one digging into his jacket but must have realized she wouldn’t let go without making more of a scene than she was already causing.
She still ignored him.
“Excuse us,” he growled, then looped his free arm around her waist and practically carried her through the milling crowd of holiday shoppers until they were far enough away that she couldn’t see her mother. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m so sorry.” She released her grip on his arm. “I panicked.”
ABOUT CRISTIN:
New York Times bestselling author Cristin Harber packs her military romance, romantic suspense, and new adult romance novels with steam, sizzle, and action of all types. Whether you want fireworks in the bedroom or a hunky ex-military team that saves the day, her bestselling romance novels will make you swoon and smile.
Two rival interns. One art museum. And a missing art museum exhibit.
Dylan Alexander doesn’t need a boyfriend. Having one will only slow him down.
Freshly graduated from university, Dylan’s arrived in London, England from Vancouver, Canada for a summer internship at the London Art & Design Museum. He’s also looking for strings-free fun and a fresh dating scene. This is Dylan’s dream chance to start his career and land a permanent job in London—or else he must return to Vancouver where museum jobs are rare, and the dating pool is old news. Everything’s going great in his new life—except for one thing. Dylan must put up with rival museum intern William Martin-Greene.
Will is everything Dylan can’t stand: flashy, arrogant, and entitled. Forget that he’s too handsome for his own good and knows it. It’s bad luck that they both started on the same internship program. At least they work safely apart in different departments—until one day, they’re forced to work together when Will unexpectedly joins Dylan’s Curatorial team. So much for the avoidance strategy that had worked so far. Will’s arrival on his team is also not helping his unmistakable attraction. When Dylan and Will end up stranded together while collecting exhibits, with only one bed to share, they can’t deny their chemistry.
With only one permanent job on offer at the end of the summer, the competition is on to be the best intern. They both share the blame when an important design exhibit goes missing and risks the unexpected summer romance between them. Then, everything is on the line—including hearts, careers, and a chance at love.
A rivals-to-lovers, opposites attract, only one bed, and boy-next-door romance!
Keep going, Dylan. I splash along a London street that must be hundreds of years old. It’s lined with brick buildings, a mirrored office tower reflecting the moody sky, and followed by even more brick buildings. Then, at street level, there’re all the glass-fronted shops. The museum’s got to be close. You’ve gotten halfway around the world, after all.
With the help of printed out maps and free Wi-Fi, of course.
It’s not far now.
And I can’t stop smiling. I can’t believe I’m actually here. Forget the rain.
It’s a soggy, blustery London day, which admittedly does no favors for my leather shoes or my styled hair. Or for making a good impression on the first day of a new job in a country I landed in three days ago. And it’s the first day where jet lag isn’t totally kicking my ass.
I get a little lost on my way from London Bridge station somewhere along the modern gray tiled path leading past the Old London City Hall. The problem being something called Old London City Hall looks very modern and new, with its endless windows and curved oval structure, which is part of what got me confused. Because everything old in London’s supposed to be, well, old. Like really old. And this building is anything but. I squint at the building through the rain at the edge of an equally sleek plaza, dotted with leafy trees boxed in with low hedges, concrete benches, and contemporary art installations, all overlooking the Thames.
Old London City Hall looks like it was built yesterday.
This must be some prank to play on the tourists.
I pull out a slightly crumpled page from my pocket with one hand and hold on to the umbrella with my other hand. I haven’t sorted out my phone yet, and I don’t want to pay roaming charges. My printed-out map reliably shows Potters Field Park beside the Thames and the Old London City Hall plaza. Plus, there’s the iconic Tower Bridge nearby as a key landmark, and an X in blue pen marks the museum to the east. Raindrops splatter the page with dark spots before I hurriedly tuck it away.
I’m back on track.
The museum must be straight ahead, past the park—my destination—down at the end of the road or the block or whatever people call it here. I start walking again with purpose. Like I belong here amid the Londoners who happen to know where they’re going.
At least, I think it’s the museum at the end of the street. I haven’t actually seen it before, except on Google Street View.
Distracted, I end up making an unscheduled detour down a side street to see more of the surrounding area, which has one-way traffic. But there’re more modern buildings again down this way, and I work on figuring out how to loop back on course before I’m late.
Look right, then left. I keep repeating my new mantra when I cross the street, then hurry up another street toward the museum as the weather worsens. Everyone drives on the opposite side of the street from what I’m used to.
I grip my umbrella tight against another gust of wind.
A red sports car screams past as a wind gust turns my umbrella inside out.
Then an icy tidal wave hits me like a slap, and I reel.
“What the fuck—” I yelp, the umbrella useless in my hand.
An airborne puddle soaks me. Right from my head down to my now very ruined—rather than partly ruined—new shoes. Leather never deserves a flood of water, never mind my face.
Water pours off me in sheets. I’m left sopping wet, gasping and spluttering.
Me and my wet rage, dressed in soggy smart casual. My light cotton blazer, perfect for actual summer, turns out to be incredible at soaking up water like a sponge.
I stare after the red car rocketing up the road toward the museum, its taillights a sharp dazzle against the soft gray world even through the rain. My fists tighten while I drip.
Too bad I didn’t pack a towel in my bag, but I didn’t expect impromptu bathing today.
Asshole.
Author Bio:
More animal than mineral, Hayden Stone is a writer of fun queer fiction, especially with kissing. He currently lives in Victoria, Canada, and has previously lived in Vancouver, Canada and London, UK. He likes strong coffee and is owned by two cats. You can find out his latest news on Twitter or Instagram, or at his website: haydenstonebooks.com
Frances Paul is here to tell us about The Black Rose, a psychological thriller.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Black Rose
Frances Paul
Publication date: October 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller
“Intense, a little bruising, and it doesn’t let you walk away untouched.”
— ★★★★★ Reader Review
Some weapons are born. Others are made.
She is the perfect operative.
A discarded orphan, remade by the very hands that broke her.
Trained to seduce. Conditioned to kill. Reborn as Elara Everhart.
They gave her new names. New faces. New identities, whichever the mission required.
Now, they call her Raina.
And they’ve sent her into the lion’s den.
Her target: Axel Voss. Billionaire. Powerbroker. Threat.
He’s everything she was trained to dismantle.
But he sees too much. Speaks too little.
And when he touches her, he wakes something she was never meant to feel.
She is the weapon they created.
But he’s the variable they never planned for.
What begins as a mission spirals into obsession.
And survival will cost more than her cover.
Because the most dangerous thing isn’t failing the mission,
It’s forgetting who the real enemy is.
If you love psychological thrillers with espionage, romantic suspense, and heart‑stopping twists, The Black Rose will keep you breathless until the very last page.
“To master the art of the strike, first let the target marinate in your charm and wit, until they are ripe for the taking.” – Elara Everhart
I stepped out of the cab and into the gallery, the air instantly changing around me. Heads turned. Eyes followed. The black Dolce & Gabbana dress I wore fit like it had been sewn onto my skin, elegant without trying, powerful without needing to speak. My hair, sleek and black, fell in glossy waves down my back, every strand precisely where it belonged. I walked with purpose, each step measured, as I took in the room.
It didn’t take long to find him.
Axel Voss stood in a more secluded wing of the gallery where the crowd had thinned. I spotted him across the space. His back was to me, dressed in a tailored dark gray suit that fit too perfectly to be anything but custom. His frame was lean and strong, his posture relaxed, hands tucked in his pockets as he studied a painting. He wasn’t just looking. He was dissecting it.
My attention moved to the guards. Two of them. Strategically placed in opposite corners of the room, trying not to look like security. They blended in well enough with the other patrons, but their eyes told the truth. Constantly scanning.
I inhaled and adjusted the strap of my dress. I ran my hands over my curves, making sure everything looked in place. My cue had come.
Each step felt burdened, as if what I was about to do had sunk deep into my limbs.
The rhythm of my heels against the marble echoed faintly. I moved closer, slipping into his orbit. I was near enough now for him to catch the light scent of my perfume, floral, soft, meant to linger without announcing itself.
I stopped beside him, eyes landing on the painting he was analyzing. It was abstract, wild with motion. Crimson slashed across the canvas, tangled with violent blues and fractured gold. The brushwork oscillated between jagged bursts and smooth sweeps, an unsettling mix of control and chaos.
I spoke, keeping my voice soft and level. Close enough to feel intimate, just loud enough to be heard.
“The intensity of the strokes is remarkable,” I said. “The way the colors collide feels almost violent, yet there’s a strange harmony in the chaos.”
He didn’t respond. Not verbally. But I felt it. His attention was on me now as much as the art. I let the silence stretch a second longer, then continued, my tone calm, analytical. “It’s as if the artist was fighting an inner battle. Conflict and catharsis, all bleeding onto the canvas. The jagged strokes speak of anger or defiance, but the way the hues blend reveals a deep vulnerability… like they couldn’t commit to full destruction.”
I leaned in just slightly, examining the layers of the painting, voice dropping.
“It’s the tension that makes it work. The pull between restraint and abandon. It feels… raw.”
The silence settled again, delicate but dense.
Then I allowed a smirk to touch my lips.
“Or maybe they just threw paint at the canvas after a bad day and decided to call it art.”
That broke it. He turned toward me, finally.
His eyes met mine.
Heat flashed between us. The force of his gaze hit harder than I expected.
My breath caught, not out of fear but from the pressure of it. He was already trying to read me.
I knew that look. He was hunting for the truth inside my performance.
I didn’t flinch.
Even when my pulse started to climb beneath my skin, I held my ground.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The gallery around us faded. It was just him. Just me.
Then I stepped back, breaking the moment on my terms.
I turned without hesitation and walked away, slipping into the flow of bodies beyond the archway. My retreat was smooth.
Behind me, I felt his gaze linger, and so did the eyes of his guards.
I didn’t need to look back to know he was still watching the space I had just walked away from.
Back in the main gallery, I finally exhaled. The encounter had gone as planned. I had said what
I needed to. Played the part.
But the crackle between us wasn’t part of the plan.
And I felt it. Still pulsing through me.
This was only the beginning. One step into a game layered with risk, manipulation, and consequences I wasn’t sure I fully understood.
But I had just stepped onto the board.
And Axel Voss had noticed.
Author Bio:
Frances Paul is an author of emotionally charged, high-stakes fiction that captivates readers with its mix of psychological suspense, romance, and intricate plotting. Her work explores the fine line between love and survival, delving into themes of resilience, sacrifice, and the secrets we keep.
She is the author of Sea of Scars, a moving story of loss and redemption, and The Black Rose, a gripping psychological thriller that draws readers into a world where trust is dangerous and every choice carries lasting consequences.
With a distinctive voice and a cinematic style, Frances creates unforgettable characters and layered narratives that linger long after the final page. Her passion for storytelling comes from a lifelong fascination with the human heart and its capacity to endure even in the darkest of circumstances.
C. Vonzale Lewis is here to tell us about Descendants of the Big House, A Horde of Dead Poets, contemporary fantasy-mystery.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Descendants of the Big House
C. Vonzale Lewis
(A Horde of Dead Poets)
Publication date: October 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Fantasy, Mystery
Beatrice Monroe is still getting used to the knowledge that she was born a champion for Good and Evil. She spends her days combing through her great grandmother’s journals trying to find answers to what this newfound ability means for her as a member of law enforcement.
When a woman walks into her precinct claiming her aunt was murdered, Beatrice discovers a link between their families that may just have the answers she needs. But those answers are not easy to find. Because this mystery’s roots are buried in the past with five young girls and what they gave birth to…in The Big House.
Descendants of the Big House is a standalone installment in A Horde of Dead Poets collection featuring seven authors and their stories inspired by famous literary poems. If you often find yourself steering toward a dark, mysterious, isolated location; if family curses haunt you and unreliable narrators keep you in suspense, you won’t want to miss a single volume in this gripping collection.
Perfect for fans of T. Kingfisher, Simone St. James, Stephen King, and Shirley Jackson.
“I think somebody did something,” Mr. Taylor announced suddenly, voice raised. “My wife, my children. Not right. Not right at all.” He started crying. “I can’t convince anybody to listen to me.”
I got up and kneeled by his chair. “I’m listening, Mr. Elijah.” It didn’t dawn on me that I might have overstepped. The pain in his plea just pulled at me. I understood the feeling of being lost so well, growing up in a home filled with abuse and no one listening to my own cries for help.
He looked down at me. “I appreciate that. You find ’em. You find the one that took my Mary. She was the only woman I ever loved. And our children. Godsend. No matter what that man told her at the crossroads.”
“What man?” I asked, my blood running cold. Of course, I knew what man he was referring to, but I didn’t dare say it out loud.
He flapped his hand in the air again.
I looked at Gautier and dipped my head toward my bag. I didn’t want to upset him further, but I needed to confirm what I already suspected. Mary had met Papa Sin at the crossroads.
Gautier pulled out the book Odette gave us, still in an evidence bag, and came over and gave it to me. I pulled it out and Mr. Taylor gasped.
“Get that evil book out of my house!” He tried to get to his feet and ended up falling back in the chair. I straightened and, after thrusting the book at Gautier, helped Mr. Elijah right himself.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Cherie asked, rushing over. “What evil?” She looked at the book. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but it’s upsetting my daddy.”
“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. But your sister Natalie sent this book to Odette along with a letter claiming she was going to…” I looked down at Mr. Taylor. His eyes were wild.
“She swore she’d gotten rid of that book. She swore.” He let out a sob. “That man told her she’d birth evil. That twins were broken.” He caved in on himself, chest heaving as he cried.
“I better take him to his room,” Cherie said, her face filled with concern.
Gautier got up and helped her take him in the back. I stood there berating myself for upsetting him. I shouldn’t have asked about the book. But I had to get answers, right?
Author Bio:
Carla Vonzale Lewis likes her martini’s shaken…never stirred. Though she was born in Georgia, please don’t mistake her for a Georgia peach. She’s more like a prickly pear. Speaking of being born, someone asked her recently if she remembered her birth, and all she had to say was, “Yes, I do remember that handsy doctor pulling me out into the cold. Right Bastard!!!”
Despite being born in the South, she grew up in the North. California to be exact. And every once in a great while, she gets to experience all four seasons. But mostly, it’s just heat.
Her debut novel, LINEAGE, was released July 16, 2019 and she fully intends to ride that joy for the rest of her life.
When she’s not concocting her next contemporary fantasy story, she enjoys reading, binge watching shows on Netflix, and trying to convince her husband that getting a dog is a wonderful idea.
