The Skeleton Faerie - Children of the Death Gods #1 - Dark Fantasy - Fantasy - Mythology - and a Giveaway #DarkFantasy #Fantasy #Mythology #Giveaway

A.P. Mobley is here to tell us about The Skeleton Faerie, Children of the Death Gods #1, dark fantasy, fantasy, mythology.

There's also a great giveaway.

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The Skeleton Faerie

A.P. Mobley

(Children of the Death Gods, #1)

Publication date: November 8th 2025

Genres: Adult, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Mythology

Faerie folklore meets a nuclear postapocalypse in this dark mythological fantasy woven with secrets, treachery, and star-crossed love.

Ninety-nine years after the Nuclear War of 1989, twenty-one-year-old Gus Brandon should only be interested in the survival of humanity and the expansion of his compound. But he’s obsessed with legends from the distant past, superstitions of an expired people.

While searching forbidden ruins for the scraps of stories lost to time, he stumbles upon a mysterious young woman covered in scars. Her name is Saoirse, and their meeting sets off a bloody chain of events—one in which Gus discovers that the folklore he loves just might be real, and that it’s tied to mankind in ways he could have never imagined.

Soon the lines between myth and reality blur, as do the lines between realms.

Gus will have to rely on his knowledge—and Saoirse—to survive the horrors awaiting him… in this world and the next.

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EXCERPT:

When Gus and his teammates were a mere mile from the compound, the sun had almost finished setting, and the temperature had dropped significantly. A breeze grazed the back of his bare neck and arms, sending chills through his body. In every direction, all that was visible were trees, the only noises those of his and his companions’ boots and their animals’ hooves crunching against shriveled grass and fallen leaves. Occasionally, crows—some of them genetically altered, their feathers stained a pinkish color—flapped from branch to branch, their harsh caws piercing the quiet.

Maybe it was because of the extensive amount of folklore he’d been reading, but these days, the dark played tricks on Gus’s eyes, making him see monsters when nothing was there.

Nothing could be there, after all, as the stories he so loved weren’t real.

And even if there was a chance that they were real (and he knew there wasn’t), his compound was on the western side of a mountain range called the Black Hills, located within the fallen United States of America—far, far away from the places those magical tales took place.

Yet he still found himself imagining all manner of malevolent faeries prowling the woods at night. He saw them skulking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

In masses of collapsed cottonwoods, he imagined there were redcaps hiding, plotting to slaughter any stray travelers passing by.

In murders of crows, he imagined there were sluagh flying, scouring the forest floor for the next unlucky fellow whose soul they might devour.

In fast-moving streams, he imagined there were kelpies biding their time, anticipating the moment a person came close enough to drown and eat.

Thankfully, the logical side of his brain knew he had nothing to worry about—even as far as nonfictional threats went. The worst anyone on scavenge-duty had encountered in the last year was a couple of mountain lions and some rattlesnakes, and although he and his teammates had never run into anything like that, they knew how to take care of it as easily as the other people of the compound had: with bullets.

No one left the compound without a loaded gun and extra ammo.

Gus and his team were safe.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and if it weren’t for the smog blanketing the sky (a lingering effect of the Nuclear War, which the elders said should clear up any decade now), the moon and stars might have lit up the night. The temperature fell even further, clouds of breath filling the air in front of Gus’s face and fogging up his glasses.

“Guess we should have packed our coats,” Nancy remarked as she walked in front of Gus, guiding her pig along. She began to shiver. “I hate when the weather gets like this. Hot during the day, cold at night.”

Twigs cracked to the left. Hand flying to his holster, Gus looked that way, his goat bleating, Nancy’s pig squealing.

A flash of movement in the trees, there and gone in an instant.

“What the . . . ?” Oliver tossed his bundle of birds over his shoulder and retrieved his flashlight, his teeth chattering. He and Adam stood several feet to Gus’s right. “Did you guys see that?”

Adam drew his handgun. “Probably a mountain lion. We’re almost home, so just keep your eyes peeled and your weapons ready.”

“Maybe speed it up a little too,” Gus added, and he and Nancy pulled out their handguns. The team continued toward the compound.

Not five minutes had passed before more branches snapped behind them. Again, the goat bleated, and the pig squealed.

Everyone swung around, preparing to shoot. Oliver shined his flashlight into the trees.

The glow revealed a creature that made Gus’s skin prickle with goose bumps.

Author Bio:

A. P. Mobley is the Halloween-loving, rock-music-obsessed author of dark fantasy inspired by mythology. She doesn’t only write about her favorite myths, folktales, and fairy tales in books, though; she discusses them on her podcast, Myths (& Folktales & Fairy tales), as well as on her blog and newsletter. She grew up in Wyoming and Nebraska and currently lives in South Dakota, and when she’s not up to her elbows in research for her next project, she can be found consuming dangerous amounts of coffee, reading speculative fiction, or rewatching The Good Place.

Never miss an update from A. P. by signing up for her newsletter. Full list of books and Content Warnings on her website.

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The Art of Human Connection - Self-Help - and a Giveaway #SelfHelp #Giveaway

Adir Biniamini is here to tell us about his self-help book The Art of Human Connection.

There's also a great giveaway.

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Adir Biniamini will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

In an age of extreme technology and growing separation, we've lost our way. We've traded authentic human connection for a world of aggressive tactics, self-serving behaviors, and fleeting transactions that leave us feeling isolated and unfulfilled.

The Art of Human Connection offers a powerful and ethical alternative, a return to our shared humanity.

This educational book is your essential guide to mastering the simple yet profound skills that form the bedrock of true success. Through a series of practical insights and transformative principles, you will learn how to:

- Cultivate Self-Awareness: Understand your own emotional landscape and its impact on every interaction.

- Build Authentic Relationships: Master the art of empathy and genuine communication to forge instant rapport and build lasting trust.

- Navigate with Confidence: Learn to move through professional and personal challenges with less friction and more grace.

"The truest version of a person is never who they perform to be, it is who they become when they forget to perform!"

This is a powerful call to action, inviting you to reflect on your own experiences and visualize a clear path to improvement. By embracing this approach, you will discover a liberating truth: your greatest success and most profound connections begin the moment you stop performing and simply start being.

Read an Excerpt

How often have you caught yourself rehearsing a conversation, worried about sounding “too pushy” or “not professional enough”? That internal hesitation, the voice that whispers, “I shouldn’t share that anecdote” or “I can’t ask that question”, is a massive barrier to real connection. It’s called Waiting for Permission, and it keeps you locked into a rigid script, sacrificing genuine curiosity and spontaneity for safety. But here’s the game-changer: you don’t need external approval to create a powerful, human connection. The permission slip is self-written.

Here is your three-step guide to stop waiting for permission and start showing up as your most impactful self.

Write Your Own Permission Slip: Trust Your Gut

The key to unlocking connection is recognizing that your authentic impulse is valuable. Stop seeking external validation and start acting on your intuition.

Practice Proactive Empathy: Show genuine interest right away with a sincere opener like, “I know you’re busy; thanks for making time,” to establish a welcoming tone.

Share with Courage: If you feel an authentic impulse to ask a slightly more personal or relevant question, or share a relevant story, do it. That’s where real connection happens.

Not long ago, I was coaching a client who was preparing for a high-stakes networking event. She had rehearsed her “elevator pitch” dozens of times, but when she practiced with me, it felt stiff and distant. I asked her to set aside the script and instead share why she cared so deeply about her work. She hesitated, “That’s too personal, isn’t it?”, but then told a short story about how her project had helped a struggling family regain stability. The moment she spoke from that place of authenticity, her entire presence shifted. Her voice carried warmth, her eyes lit up, and suddenly, she wasn’t performing, she was connecting. At the event, she led with that story. Instead of polite nods, she received genuine engagement, follow-up questions, and even an unexpected partnership opportunity. The difference wasn’t in her words; it was in her willingness to stop waiting for permission and trust her authentic impulse.

About the Author:

Adir Biniamini is a visionary coach and the author of The Art of Human Connection. His journey into coaching began after a long and successful entrepreneurial career where he learned firsthand that genuine connection is the cornerstone of success.

From working at a flea market as a teenager to launching multiple businesses, Adir quickly discovered the power of authentic communication. A pivotal piece of advice, "Be exactly who you are . . . real, friendly, inviting," became his guiding light. Thirty years and successful businesses later, this commitment to genuine human connection remains the cornerstone of his success.

Adir's unique philosophy, forged from a lifetime of business and personal challenges, is built on the belief that a deep connection to ourselves is the key to creating meaningful relationships with others. Through his work, he helps clients master the essential skills of emotional intelligence and rapport, empowering them to navigate challenges and create lasting success in every facet of their lives.

Website: https://adirbiniamini.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/60102851.Adir_Biniamini

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Pyres - Dark Supernatural Horror - and a Giveaway #DarkSupernaturalHorror #Horror #Giveaway

Kev Harrison is here to tell us about Pyres, dark supernatural horror.

There's also a great giveaway.

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As the artworks - and charred bodies - mount up, 

can Angela and Becky find out what’s happening, and how to stop it?

Pyres

by Kev Harrison

Genre: Dark Supernatural Horror

"Horror’s Kev Harrison is on fire with his latest novel, Pyres, a blistering murder mystery with echoes of Dorian Grey that compels with its artistry as much as its political commentary. Set in the New Forest and conjuring ancient gods, Pyres is darkly revelatory. Definitely make this your next read."—Lee Murray, five-time Bram Stoker Award®-winning author of Grotesque: Monster Stories

Angela has been a spirit painter for years. Channelling the spirits as they commit memories to canvas through her: childhood pets, favourite holiday locations, and sprawling homesteads. But now, something has changed.

The paintings take a dark turn just as her sister, Becky, returns from Italy. People burnt alive, their smouldering remains a vivid, visceral stain on Angela’s canvasses. Already disturbed, her life is thrown into turmoil when a right wing TV news presenter is found incinerated in a facsimile of her new painting.

As the artworks - and charred bodies - mount up, can Angela and Becky find out what’s happening, and how to stop it?

From the Independent Press Award-winning author of Shadow of the Hidden, Pyres is a tense, taut novel of supernatural horror.

 

Amazon US * Amazon UK * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

There’s a bite in the air that I haven’t felt since … well, since the last time I was here. I pull the jacket round me and do the zip up halfway.

After unlatching the gate, I walk it back, fastening it in place with its rope to a hook on the old stone wall, then dash back to my car and park up.

The house seems at first to be in darkness, but then I catch the orange quiver of candlelight through the windows.

Angela must be painting. Just my luck.

I grab a holdall from the boot—the rest of my things can wait until the morning—and make for the front door. I knock. Wait. And, as expected, there’s no reply.

A glance up at the sky tells me this pause in the rain won’t last long, so I head around the back of the cottage, through the knee-high grass and wildflowers to the old wooden summer house. I lift the locking bar and let myself in.

Cobwebs stretch from corners, telling tales of a summer to forget. I swat them away, careful not to catch any spiders in the process, then make for the curtain at the back. Sweeping it aside, I find the painting—my sister’s first ‘with help’, as she likes to put it—and take it down. The front door key is, as always, nestled in the corner of the frame.

With the summer house locked up, I traipse back to the front door and carefully unlock it. I creep inside, leaving my bag under the coat rack, then lock the door with as much stealth as I can manage.

Now, all that’s left is to follow the wavering shadows from the candlelight, and the pungent fragrance of henbane, to Angela’s studio on the other side of the cottage. I think about using the torch on my phone, but fear the consequences if I wake her while she paints.

The walls are emblazoned with canvases from the hall through to the lounge. The styles are eclectic, so varied you could never say they prescribed to any specific theme. Such is the way of things in her line of artistic expression.

When I reach the glass panelled door to the studio, I pause before turning the handle, knowing as I do that what I’m about to witness will never not jar with me. I take a breath, hold it, and push.

The door glides silently open and she’s there, facing me, hands frantically swiping with the brush on the portrait canvas before her. She balances with poise on the high artist’s stool, despite the extravagant motions of her painting, despite the fact her eyes are rolled back, the bulging sclera pulsing, criss-crossed with angry-looking pink veins. The shadows, swaying in the candlelight, render the scene still more other worldly. Unsettling.

The decades-old futon in the corner looks so inviting, especially as I have no idea how long this could continue for. But curiosity tugs at me, even through the fog of my exhaustion. I always want to know what she’s painting, even if I’m not wholly convinced by the way she describes her methods.

Taking care not to get too close, I tiptoe around the edge of the studio and come to a stop behind her. Her brush hand continues to thrash one way and the other, while mine are drawn, without my permission, to my mouth.

On the canvas, there is a room. The utterly unremarkable magnolia walls and fireplace are not what has stolen my breath. That prize goes to what’s at the centre of the piece. A green, leather armchair, somehow, remains intact, as do one and a half of the legs ‘sitting’ on it, if you can call it that.

At the top of the worst affected of the two legs, the thigh is a bubbled, overcooked mound of flesh, from which a charred femur extends. The torso is missing, but for a blackened imprint melted into the fabric of the chair behind. Despite this, the right leg remains covered in a fragment of a pressed, grey trouser leg. Each foot remains encased in a perfectly preserved shoe.

I try to breathe. Try to remember the mechanism by which my lungs have been pulling in air for the length of my life to date. The extremities of my vision begin to darken, my balance slipping away, when I hear Angela’s voice.

“Not again.”

Originally from the UK, but now living in Lisbon, Portugal, Kev Harrison is the Independent Press Award-winning author of Shadow of the Hidden and his newest novel, Pyres, as well as the novellas, Below and The Balance. His short fiction has appeared in more than twenty venues and is collected in Paths Best Left Untrodden. When not crafting creepy tales, he can be found travelling and eating with his partner in crime, Ana, or singing bizarre songs to his three cat overlords.

 

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Furs, Fangs & Mistletoe - Christmas Romance - Shifters - Small Town #Romance #ChristmasRomance #Shifters #SmallTown

Jessica Coulter Smith is here to tell us about Furs, Fangs & Mistletoe, Christmas romance in a small town with shifters.

Read on for details...

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Christmas Romance, Shifters, Small Town

Date Published: December 12, 2025

Escape to Christmas Cove, a cozy small town where magic, shifters, and holiday romance collide.

After a painful breakup, Riley is ready for a fresh start in Christmas Cove. All she wants is a peaceful life for herself and her two-year-old daughter, Sabrina. Love isn’t on her holiday wish list. When she’s stuck in a blizzard, help arrives in the form of Alex Conors -- a protective, brooding werewolf.

Snowed in with a grumpy shifter and a crackling fire, Riley begins to see the gentle heart behind Alex’s fierce exterior… and Alex finds himself falling for the brave single mom who awakens something he thought he lost long ago.

Hot cocoa and toddler giggles turn strangers into something more. But when Riley’s past resurfaces and threatens the safety she’s found, Alex will have to prove that loyalty, love -- and pack -- are forever.

A warm, emotional holiday romance filled with shifter charm, second chances, and the magic of Christmas. Ideal for fans of protective alphas, found family, and heartfelt happily-ever-afters.

 

EXCERPT

 

The sedan’s engine rattled -- a sound Riley had learned to distinguish from its other mechanical complaints over the past three states. This particular rattle meant she’d make it another fifty miles, maybe more if she kept her speed steady. Her knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel somewhere around the state line, and she couldn’t remember now how to relax them. The GPS showed their arrival in Christmas Cove, and Riley’s shoulders tensed further, an automatic response to any declaration of reaching a destination.

Dusk had settled over the town. Main Street stretched before her, lined with Victorian storefronts that belonged in a Thomas Kincade painting. White lights twisted around lampposts, and wreaths hung at precise intervals, each decorated with the same combination of pinecones and red ribbon. Fresh snow dusted the sidewalks in a way that seemed too perfect, too deliberate. Riley checked her rearview mirror again -- the same compulsive glance she’d made every thirty seconds for the past six hours. Empty road. No one following. No one cared where she went.

She drove slowly past the Sugar Moon Café, noting its warm glow and the silhouettes of people inside. Past a bookstore with a display of holiday romances in the window. Past a hardware store already closed for the evening, its owner probably home with family, sitting down to dinner, living a normal life. The thought made something twist in Riley’s chest, but she pushed it down. Normal was a luxury she couldn’t afford to want.

The residential streets branched off from downtown. Riley followed the GPS directions, checking the crumpled paper in her cup holder against the street signs and the directions from the GPS. One too many times, it had taken her the wrong way. Oak Street. Maple Avenue. Someone had named these roads with an almost nauseating wholesomeness, as if determined to prove the town’s charm. She turned onto Pine Ridge Road, where the houses grew sparser and the forest pressed closer to the road.

A small sound from the backseat made Riley’s gaze dart to the mirror. Sabrina stirred in her car seat, her head rolling to the side as she woke from the nap that had mercifully consumed the last hour of driving. Riley watched her daughter’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness and the strange lights outside.

“Mama?” Sabrina’s voice carried that quality of toddler confusion. Not quite upset, but teetering on the edge of it.

“We’re here, sweetie.” Riley forced warmth into her voice, though her jaw ached from clenching. “Look at all the pretty lights.”

Sabrina pressed her mittened hands against the window, leaving tiny smudges on the glass. “Lights!” She bounced in her seat as much as the straps would allow. “Pretty, Mama! Pretty!”

“Very pretty.” Riley’s smile felt tight on her face. She wanted to share her daughter’s uncomplicated joy, but she kept scanning the streets, cataloging escape routes, noting which houses had lights on and which sat dark. Old habits. Necessary habits.

The GPS announced their final turn, and Riley’s breath caught. The cottage stood at the end of a short gravel drive, a small structure someone’s grandfather had most likely built and barely maintained enough to keep standing. A single porch light illuminated the front door, and beyond it, the forest loomed.

Riley pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The sudden silence felt heavy, broken only by Sabrina’s humming as she kicked her feet against her car seat. Riley sat motionless, her hands still gripping the wheel, and studied their new home.

The cottage was smaller than the photos had suggested. Single-story, with a chimney that leaned slightly to the left. The windows were dark, revealing nothing of the interior. Snow had drifted against the front steps, undisturbed except for what looked like animal tracks, probably a deer or raccoon. The porch railing needed paint, and one shutter hung at an angle.

But for now the house was theirs. For six months, at least, with the first month paid in advance with money Riley had saved from extra shifts and skipped meals. Six months to figure out what came next. After that, she’d have to either renew the lease or move on to another town.

“Out, Mama!” Sabrina had moved past patient and into demanding. “Out now!”

“Just a minute, baby.”

Riley scanned the neighboring properties. The nearest house sat quite a distance down the road, its windows dark. On the other side, nothing but forest. The isolation should have comforted her. Fewer people meant fewer questions, fewer chances of being found. But instead, it made her hyperaware of how alone they were. No witnesses if something went wrong. No one to hear them scream.

She shook her head, dislodging the thought. Nothing was going to go wrong. This was a fresh start in a quiet town where nobody knew her name or her history. Where Sabrina could grow up without her mother constantly looking over her shoulder.

Riley checked the mirrors one more time, then opened her door. The cold hit her immediately, sharper than she’d expected. Mountain air, clean and biting. She pulled her jacket tighter and circled to Sabrina’s door, her boots crunching in the gravel.

“Cold!” Sabrina announced as Riley unbuckled her.

“Very cold. That’s why we’re going to get inside quick, okay?”

She lifted her daughter out, settling Sabrina on her hip with the ease of long practice. Sabrina immediately buried her face in Riley’s neck, seeking warmth. Riley grabbed the diaper bag and her purse from the front seat. The car’s trunk held everything they owned -- three suitcases, two boxes, and a garbage bag of toys. After struggling to pay the bills and stay one step ahead of her ex, she didn’t have a lot left over for extras.

Riley approached the cottage slowly, her eyes adjusting to the darkness beyond the porch light’s reach. The forest was quiet -- too quiet, maybe, but she didn’t know enough about forests to judge what was normal. She’d grown up in the suburbs and spent the last two years in a city apartment. Trees and wildlife were outside her experience.

The lockbox hung on the doorknob as promised. Riley shifted Sabrina’s weight and worked the combination with icy fingers. The key fell into her palm, small and ordinary. She fitted it into the lock and felt the deadbolt slide open with a solid click.

“New house, Mama?” Sabrina lifted her head, looking at the door with wide eyes.

“New house,” Riley confirmed. “Our house.”

The words felt like a promise and a lie at once. This wasn’t really theirs, just borrowed space, a temporary shelter. But Sabrina didn’t need to know that. Sabrina needed to believe in stability, in permanence, even if Riley couldn’t.

She turned the knob and pushed the door open, reaching inside to find the light switch. Yellow light flooded a small living room, revealing worn furniture and walls badly in need of fresh paint. Still, the space felt clean. Warm air drifted out from inside, proof someone had turned on the heat before their arrival.

Riley stepped over the threshold, carrying her daughter into their new life, and tried not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.

 

 

About the Author

Jessica Coulter Smith is an acclaimed romance writer with a passion for storytelling. Her works showcase the power of love and its ability to transcend boundaries, capturing the hearts of audiences worldwide. With a unique writing style and perspective, Jessica continues to inspire and entertain readers from all walks of life.

 

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Jessica on Instagram

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

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Reclamation - Dark Horse Series #1 - Dystopian - New Adult - Science Fiction - and a Giveaway #Dystopian #NewAdult #NA #SciFi #Giveaway

Kristen Zimmer is here to tell us about Reclamation, Dark Horse series #1, dystopian, NA, scifi.

There's also a great giveaway.

______________________

Reclamation

Kristen Zimmer

(Dark Horse Series, #1)

Publication date: December 9th 2025

Genres: Adult, Dystopian, New Adult, Science Fiction

Kristen Zimmer, author of The Gravity Between Us, When Sparks Fly, and Forbidden Girl takes readers on an adrenaline-fueled dystopian journey into the future where a scrappy band of rebels rise up to bring down an unequal and unrelenting government.

This is your future.

The United States of America has been gone for over a century.

In its place, The Unified American Territories—a nation divided, the impoverished and the wealthy are separated by a looming steel wall. In the Northern Territories—The Vault, as it is known by its inhabitants—the government rules with an iron fist: All citizens are tested for intelligence and aptitude, thrust into compulsory higher education and saddled with insurmountable debt. All student loans are granted and controlled by a branch of the regime called The Federal Bureau of Education. Failure to repay their debt consigns borrowers to the Knowledge Reclamation Process, a mysterious government-sanctioned brainwashing program that strips them of their education with dire mental and physical side effects.

Fletcher Daniels is a recent college graduate struggling to stay ahead of her arrears. After a visit from Reclamation Agents, she knows her life is about to change for the worse. Enter Youth Opposed to Reclamation, a scrappy band of rebels who try in their own small way to bring some relief to the people of The Vault by smuggling as many potential Reclaimees to safety as possible. When Fletcher meets and falls for fellow female YOR member, Sparrow, her world is twisted away from the one she once knew even more radically. The group offers Fletcher a chance to escape her fate, but through them, she sees the promise of bringing real change to The Vault. History has taught her that even the smallest rebellions can trigger revolutions. It’s time for history to repeat itself.

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EXCERPT:

FLETCHER HAD BEEN ENJOYING the luxury of her sole day off work, reading The Scarlet Letter. Happily. Quietly. Until some unknowable thing, a strange tug in her chest, made her look up. She shut down her antiquated digireader with a tap of the cracked screen and watched from her bedroom window as a sleek, silver sedan pulled to a stop at the curb outside of her dilapidated row house. Agents.

She couldn’t see them through the car’s blacked-out windows, but it was obvious. The simple fact that the vehicle had the shine of something new was enough to give the Agents away. Being from The Vault, or The Northern Territories, as Fletcher’s part of the country was known officially, she rarely saw any cars on the road at all; cars in such impeccable condition were all but complete anomalies. Why do they even bother plastering the Department of Reclamation’s seal on the doors? She wondered.

That hideous seal. Words failed to capture how much Fletcher both loathed and feared it. The great red and black per bend crest, showcasing a scroll of parchment in one half and a tasseled mortarboard in the other, had always been reviled by citizens of The Vault. It meant that someone hadn’t paid their dues, and The Department of Reclamation had come to collect.

The Department of Reclamation employed the Agents who did the strong-arming for The Federal Bureau of Education. While the BOE housed the bookkeepers, The Department of Reclamation’s Agents handled the unseemlier work… and their work was generally quite unseemly. The Governing Council of The Unified American Territories had long ago authorized Reclamation Agents to use brute force “in the event of necessity.” More often than not, visits from Agents did end in violence—if not on their first visit, when a potential Reclaimee received their Notification of Violation, then most definitely on their second visit, when the Agents returned to take the Reclaimee into custody. Reclaimees seldom initiated said violence, of course; Fletcher had heard that most cried or begged for just a few more moments with their loved ones. They would be flogged once or twice and give up or otherwise be knocked out with narcotics. Occasionally, a Reclaimee would try to escape. Those individuals had it much worse. Fletcher closed her eyes and, although it pained her to do it, allowed herself to envision the brutality Agents inflicted upon braver people: Arms twisted so violently that shoulders snapped out their sockets, fingers bent backward with such force that the metacarpals fractured, skulls cracked against living room floors. She shuddered as if her skin had been kissed by an icy wind.

Reclamation Agents were no strangers to The Vault, considering it was the part of the country reserved for the impoverished, the destitute and the disillusioned—those who needed “excessive assistance” from the Government. Those like Fletcher. She would need at least ten more fingers to be able to count the number of times she had seen Agents in her neighborhood in the last week alone. Watching these two men march toward her home, she couldn’t help but wonder if they had come for her this time.

“Fletcher,” her father’s voice boomed through the dimness of her room. “Can you come out here, please?”

“I’ll be right there.”

She peered into the tarnished mirror atop her bedside table. Using the remnants of daylight to aid her vision, she pulled her long blonde hair up into a ponytail. “Alright,” she sighed to herself, her sharp jawline clenching and her hazel eyes burning with angst. “If they are here for you, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Author Bio:

Kristen Zimmer is the author of The Gravity Between Us, which spent 12 weeks as the number one best-seller in both the Lesbian Fiction and Lesbian Romance genres on Amazon. It was listed as one of USA Today’s “10 Best books to read for Pride 2018” and in December 2021 was named one of Reader's Digest '50 Best Romance Novels of All Time'

That same year, her follow-up novel, When Sparks Fly, debuted as the best-seller in Lesbian Fiction and Lesbian romance, and clung to the spot for four weeks.

Her latest novel, Forbidden Girl, a dark mafia sapphic romance, is available now.

Kristen lives in Salem, Massachusetts— yes, where the witches were.

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Dragonsong - Epic Fantasy Adventure - and a Giveaway #EpicFantasyAdventure #Epic #Fantasy #Adventure #Giveaway

Michael Forester is here to tell us about his epic fantasy adventure Dragonsong.

There's also a great giveaway.

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Sometimes, nothing but the death of your father will do

Dragonsong

by Michael Forester

Genre: Epic Fantasy Adventure

Rebekah, noblewoman of Albion, has been driven to madness by the murder of her lover Vidar. In her torment she bargains with the Prince of Demons to turn her into a dragon. Thus transformed, she seeks to take revenge upon her father, Merlin, whom she is fooled into believing is responsible for Vidar’s death. To save the world from the ravages of Dragonsong, Merlin is forced to banish his beloved daughter to hell, regardless of the consequences for him personally. 

Behind the subterfuge stands Oberon, Captain-King of Elves. He does not foresee the devastation his jealousy and unrequited love for Rebekah will unleash upon Gaia when he frees her from Merlin’s spell and summons her from hell to support his war against Albion.

To save Gaia a second, Merlin is forced to travel back in time to prepare a warrior capable of overcoming the dragon through the power of the Sleep Stone. But he does not foresee the bond that will develop between the dragon and his own assistant, the Seer, Michael of Albion. If Lady Attie and Michael prove unable to return the Sleep Stone to the mouth of Hell in time, the Demon Army will be swarm out of Hell and overrun Gaia.

Time. Time is the key. Time is the only solution to Gaia’s destiny – but only if the gods of Asgard can find a way to stop it.  

 

What readers are saying:

“On a par with the epic of Beowulf, this modern day classic never ceases to amaze. Gripping, thrilling, twisting and turning, the plot of this epic piece of verse (an achievement unrivalled in the 20 the century, I'd say), will have you gripped from start to finish. Don't just dream of dragons and elves, Kings and Warriors, heaven and hell: read about them and allow the mythology to soak deep into the fibre of your being! You, and your deepest soul, will be thrilled.” -Rod Boothroyd

 

Absolutely beautiful book I loved this book. It is a tale of wizards, demons, dragons, elves, love and treachery set around the Arthurian court but written in rhyme. I have not read any poetic literature for over 40 years since studying Beowulf and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight at university so this book intrigued me. I am full of admiration for anyone who can write beautiful poetry but when they can also tell a story at the same time I find that quite remarkable. It is about the battle between elves and men, love stories ending tragically and deceit and treachery. I would urge people to read this even if they haven’t read poetry in a long time, I just found it so beautiful and the story will entrance you. The last lines as written by the Scribe are “Or wilt thou, reader, now persuade me once again to take my pen And make another story come to be? All I can say is that I really hope so!  - A 5 Star ***** Review By Breakaway Reviewers

  

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

Michael Forester is a deafened author who lives between the New Forest and the sea. He is a full time author and public speaker, travelling both in the UK and internationally, speaking inspirationally and signing his books for readers in locations as far apart as the UK, Thailand, Cambodia and the Philippines. He is the author of ten published books to date, on subjects as diverse as business strategy, spiritual inspiration and epic fantasy poetry.

Michael’s own journey has taken him from early years in academia into middle years in management training and Neuro Linguistic Programming. It has taken him from normal hearing to near-profound deafness and the life-changing arrival of a hearing dog, Matt. It has taken him through a miraculously survived suicide attempt in 2002, into a spiritual awakening.

He has travelled to over forty countries, from the Amazon Rainforest, encountering ecological devastation, to South Africa, experiencing post-Apartheid forgiveness; from a personal pilgrimage in search of the singing bowls of Nepal, to a first-hand examination of the darker side of economic modernisation in the Philippines, besides many other destinations.

 

Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $10 giveaway!

Enter the Dragonsong Giveaway Here

Thanks so much for reading today's post. Hope you enjoyed it!

Follow me on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tina-donahue

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