Best-selling author Libby Kay’s sweet fireman romance Flash Point is a bad boy redemption story perfect for fans of B.K. Borison’s Lovelight series.
Javier “Javi” Ortiz never has trouble finding a date. The confident fireman enjoys the perks of no-strings hook-ups and his bachelor lifestyle. Yet when a certain blonde moves to Pinegrove, the idea of casual dating fizzles out. Javi is finally ready to settle down, but will he be able to charm his way into her life? Or will his reputation ruin his chance at real love?
Lola Peabody has given up on love. She doesn’t have time for men and their empty promises, especially with her hands full being a single mom and running her own photography business. Her plans do not include finding a man, even a charismatic fireman who treats her and her daughter like queens.
But Pinegrove is a small town, and the pair can’t stay away from each other. From photoshoots and romance book club to quiet walks in the woods, Lola and Javi spend more and more time together.
Could this be happily ever after? Or will their romance burn out faster than a five-alarm fire?
Never before had Javi held a woman in such regard, kept a woman at arm’s length as they got to know each other. While the notion would have chafed before, now it made perfect sense. He’d do whatever it took to make Lola comfortable, happy.
Javi wasn’t certain, but the stars shone brighter as he looked up at the night sky. He liked to pretend his mamá was looking out for him, that the twinkling stars were her way of keeping in touch.
“I love you, Mamá,” he said up into the ether as he leaned back against his deck railing. “And I think I’m falling for someone—you’d love her.”
Well, Javi really didn’t want to lie to his mamá. He wasn’t falling for Lola, he’d already fallen—hard.
About the Author
Libby Kay lives in the city in the heart of the Midwest with her husband. When she’s not writing, Libby loves reading romance novels of any kind. Stories of people falling in love nourish her soul. Contemporary or Regency, sweet or hot, as long as there is a happily ever after—she’s in love!
When not surrounded by books, Libby can be found baking in her kitchen, binging true crime shows, or on the road with her husband, traveling as far as their bank account will allow.
Libby cohosts the Romance Roundup podcast with Liz Donatelli where they recommend romance books and interview authors, influencers, and publishers. Check it out for your weekly dose of romance!
How much would you wager to save a dragon? Your safety, your friends, your people? How about your life?
Skye, an alitur—elf as the small-minded humans would degrade her—is a gambler hiding in the skin of her enemy to escape capture, her past and her true identity.
However, her fragile safety shatters when she’s caught cheating. Thrown into the corrupt world of gambling, where animals and creatures are pitted against one another for sport, Skye witnesses something she thought long extinct: dragons.
Determined to save and connect with the dragons, Skye is drawn into a web of deceit, loyalty, and love, impelling her to face her past and reclaim her heritage.
With unlikely allies, Skye must confront the soul-devouring priestesses and their ruthless general, One-Eye-Nic, before the last dragons—and her own soul—are lost forever.
This is an enthralling tale of lies, rebellion, and the price of freedom…
The girl showed up with their tankards and a jug of homebrew. The man’s attention went straight to her cleavage. The hairy man pinched her behind for good measure before tipping her. Skye used the distraction to nick a card from the pack, a prince, hiding it in her coat sleeve. She waited for the girl to leave before dealing. The cards were soft, faded, and stained from nights of gambling.
Skye watched the three players as they scrutinized their cards. ‘Stupid’ smiled, Sid’s left eye twitched. The hairy man downed his tankard of homebrew.
Skye looked at her cards, she had two of pawns and a prince. On the table were a five and a seven of shields, a castle, and a three of pawns. Skye wasn’t sure what ‘Stupid’ thought he had, but Skye was pretty sure Sid had a castle, giving him the highest pair from the table.
Skye’s attention turned to the hairy man. The more she watched him, the more he seemed a ‘Stupid’ and in that case, no threat to Skye. He was only lucky with the previous hand.
Skye had the winning hand if she switched her two of pawns for the prince in her sleeve. ‘Stupid’ started the bets, throwing half his coin in, four silvers. Sid saw the bet and the hairy man added a silver.
She didn’t want to chase away Sid, so she also raised with only a silver coin. Keep it modest, keep it moving.
As the bets evened out around the table, Skye shifted her weight slightly and slid one hand under the edge of her sleeve. A quiet motion, a simple flick. She switched her cards—replacing a dud with a prince. Now she had two.
But just as her fingertips closed over the edge of the second card, a hand clamped down on her shoulder.
Steel. Not touch. Not pressure. Just steel.
“That is enough. We know what you are,” a male voice said. “Good call, Jim, you will get your reward. And you,” the man’s grip tightened slightly, “Finn Skylar, just won yourself a meeting with the gambler’s guild.”
Her heart jumped. Breath caught halfway up her throat. The hairy man had a smug cat-smile. He’d caught his mouse.
Her gut twisted. A setup. She should’ve seen it. Should’ve felt it. No wonder he was unreadable—he wasn’t here to play. He was here for her. Cold flooded her limbs.
What did they know? That she was a cheater? A woman? An alitur?
Or all three?
She relaxed her face into neutrality, but her mind raced. Could she run? No. Not yet. Too many eyes, too close to the table. No one had drawn steel, which meant they still wanted her alive—questioned, not killed. Yet.
“What? You have nothing to say?” the hairy man–Jim–said. He leaned over and took Skye’s tankard of homebrew and downed it. “Cheers.”
Skye didn’t answer. She reached down, slow and measured, and picked her tricorne up off the floor. Her hat was just fabric—but it made her feel armed. Steady. Like herself.
She rose to her feet.
“I don’t know what this guy told you,” Skye gestured towards Jim, “but I didn’t cheat. I haven’t seen him before in my life.” She truly hoped that was the only reason they were confronting her.
The house-muscle behind Skye chuckled, or that was what she assumed the rumbling noise was.
“We have been watching, and you have an appointment with the gambling guild.”
“No one told me,” Skye said with a shrug.
“I did. Just now.”
Skye looked over her shoulder at the house-muscle looming over her. Tall. Broad shoulders. A scar cut down his right temple, hugging the cheekbone like a crack in old stone. His stance was heavy, but not rooted. A bit off balance. Good.
The short one would be slower, maybe better in a brawl, but easy to outmaneuver. The tall one could be clumsy. The real problem was her coat—it would get in the way if she had to move fast. If she had to fight.
But—
She ran through options. Surrender. Fight. Flee. None was good. She shifted her weight, breath held shallow in her chest.
“Where is this meeting?” Skye asked.
“At the boss’s office, at the pits,” the tall one answered.
Skye scanned the room. No escape. Everyone watched. Waited. Sid had crushed his cards in his hands. Only Jim kept drinking, he found his entertainment for the night.
“I don’t go to the pits,” Skye said.
The tall one rumbled again from behind, “I don’t care, you are going.”
The room inhaled.
Jim smirked at Skye and lifted his tankard off the table. With a flick and a flash of her hand, a knife plunged into Jim’s eye.
Gasps.
The cup fell, and Jim followed.
About the Author
Fran Zuid lives in a village on the outskirts of Cape Town, South Africa, with two dogs and four parrots (her personal dragons, without the fire-breathing part—which is a bonus). If she is not submerged in a creative fantasy world, or playing old games, she is fiddling in her garden, sipping wine at a vineyard or conquering a hiking trail somewhere—that is, if her “dragons” allow it.
The only freedom of man is the freedom of thought. That is how human evolution is possible. Evolution of a man is the development of power and possibilities which never develop by themselves.
The Hera-Zeta Chronicles:
As Above So Below
by Zsa Zsa Tudos
Genre: SciFi Fantasy, Extraterrestrial Time Travel
Somewhere between galaxies, soul contracts, and the quiet chaos of human emotion, the book casually decided to rearrange your entire understanding of reality. Rude. Brilliant. Slightly illegal.
The Hera-Zeta Chronicles: As Above So Below doesn’t just tell a story, it initiates the reader. There’s something deeply precise about the way Zeta’s earthly path intertwines with Hera’s galactic mission, like it is not just a fiction, but it is decoding something ancient and quietly slipping it into the reader’s consciousness. The dynamic between dimensions, the Alpha & Omega Council, the 12 Magi… it all feels expansive without losing emotional gravity. And then it is anchored in something so human: behaviour, struggle, longing, connection.
The story embraces millions of Earthly years in cosmic interrelations emphasising the roles of earthlings in the Great Matrix and the cycle of nature. It is not only a book but an initiation of the readers, that can truly highjack their mind and clear misconceptions chiselled in by hundreds of years of conscious brainwashing.
The 87 chapters introduce events of the multidimensional life of the heroes, like the 1st generation Hera, a member of the Alpha&Omega Council, Hades’s wife, and her earthly counterpart Zeta, whose mission is to push the knowledge and help the Haya Sophia, the Magnum Opus, the Sefer Jezeera. Their steamy love affair with Hades serves as a good example of passion and deep emotional attachment.
There are no sharp divisions in the book. The story unfolds naturally, through which a clear vision of the origin and the true nature of mankind is drawn, providing allowance for the supernatural capabilities they all possess and the responsibilities they all bear. Touching upon the creation and the arrival of people on the planet, the book introduces the effects of prominent astronomical events, migration, purpose, the knowledge and the lack of it, through the picture that unfolds after removing the man-made gap fillers, the stories and false events invented by the groups in power.
With the help of astral travelling, souls go through star gateways, visit far-away planets, learn and experience to support the one objective of life: to raise their own vibration. With the interrelations of energies, it creates a healthier environment below and adds to the frequency required by the above to fit into the cycle.
However, as it was clearly stated by Antoine Saint-Exupery in his most prominent book, The Little Prince, WHAT IS IMPORTANT IS HIDDEN. This concealed treasure is always Knowledge. Nevertheless, there is a catch. One needs to have enough to understand the lack of it. Life is a jigsaw puzzle. However, the board is empty and there is no image to help you with the design. The only certainty is the interrelations between the pieces.
My strong desire is to help people understand their lives, events and become knowledgeable enough to take responsibility for their words, thoughts and deeds. It is a necessary step towards the Nirvana, called Happiness. All the wonders!
With the chip in her hand, Zeta walked to the round table on the terrace. It was already cleaned and the black ritual cover was laid out. There were few candles to choose from and some frankincense was lit on the burner. There was a small, washed and ironed white cotton cloth for the chip that Zoltan brought back from his trip.
Zeta decided upon 3 candles. One small white for the altar, one thick red for energy and fire and the help of Hades and one thick blue for Uranus. She lit them and invited the brothers to contribute to the ceremony.
The small, turquoise, pebble-like recording device was lying there, waiting for the expert touch.
“Wow, I have no idea how to handle this one,” pondered Zeta. “Let’s be logical. Looking at the aura it is organic. If organic, it behaves like one, therefore cracking it open is not an option. The full moon would help,” entered Zeta’s mind. “But it is still a week away. There is no time to wait. I will try the frequencies.”
As she said that few musical instruments were fetched and placed on the table.
“Logic dictates that I should use the opposite frequency to irritate the mass to open up. It is a high frequency energy. I will use deep sounds. The starting point should be the A sound. For lower vibration, I need to go down by either 5 or 7 pitches to follow the structure of the universe. I go down an octave. This name is confusing. There are 7 sounds between the two pitches, why is it called octave then?
They represent the 7 colours of the rainbow as the 7 natural colours, the 28 days moon cycle, 7 days of the week and so on. On musical terms they count the frame. Starts with A and finishes with A. So, the finishing A is the beginning of another octave. It shows infinity just like the number 8. It could be. But it is still confusing,” ran a train of thought Zeta. “This African drum would do the trick,” she said and hit the leather.
The pebble moved and its colour started changing however, stopped a minute later.
“All right. I might need to hit it 7 times in a certain rhythm, like the heartbeat of the universe.”
After the last beat the recording device started to show significant changes in its energy field. A rainbow emerged slowly growing until it covered the table. “I have to get ready to take notes,” ran Zeta for a notepad and pen.
When the energy covered the whole terrace, it began to concentrate at a point few steps away from her, until it formed an almost human-like being, who started to talk in a warm and deep voice.
“Greetings Hera. I am the messenger. My function is to deliver the message from the Pleiadeans. Listen very carefully. You cannot rewind me, I am not capable of answering questions that form in your mind while listening, and I cannot argue.
I exist until I speak. After, I become the organic part of the device yet again. The message is quite lengthy therefore you should make yourself comfortable,” it announced and paused for a minute.
Although Keta is an old planet, human life here is relatively young. In all of our 5 planets we count humanoid times in the millions, while you are in the early thousands. That is why souls coming down here still store memories of our existence, our schools, some of them might have even lived among us.
The structures of the planet and our physical appearance are almost identical. However, there is a big difference in our ways of living, and consequently our way of thinking. From now on, when I say: us, I mean the 3 planets living in unity. These are: Mekhranat, Muskhat and Mughat. The other 2, Quilwan and Nowtey walk different paths.
Following that thought, our planets are not visible from Keta. The stars’ cluster you call Pleiades received its name from people who cherished the Knowledge and noted everything within the interrelations of energies. These people you refer to as the Greeks. Unfortunately, they succumbed to the blind force of ignorance, similarly to the great majority of the planet, at one stage. I will talk about it later.
Coming back to the stars, as far as you are concerned, they are named after the daughters of Atlas and Pleione. The 9 of them together show a close unity. However, like other stars, these are not equipped to support humanoid life on their surface. Here, you live in a solar system with a sun at the core, from where you gain your energy, knowledge and fire. In our case it all comes from the sisters, notably from Maia and Marope.
The Haudi solar system, where Keta lives, is an old and wise organic energy mass. The planets ooze wisdom, especially that of Keta. Knowledge was the main objective when the decision for establishing a human life form here, was made. Knowledge shouldn’t be wasted. Without Knowledge the Great Matrix falls apart. The more the Knowledge the higher the resonance and stronger the Matrix. This should be an important clue for Keteans. To understand the Matrix of the Universe and their place within it.
About the Author
Life is an extraordinary journey. It is full of challenges and unsolved tasks that are put in front of us on the constantly moving and changing road towards Nirvana, the place that today we refer to as Happiness.
In my journey, I visited 103 countries, lived in 7, on 4 continents. I learned about the interrelated micro- and macrocosm. I became a REIKI Master-Healer, an Initiated Witch, an Orixa Shamanic Master, and a Phoenix Initiated Educator to teach the ancient wisdom of Khem, the Royal Art of Al Khemi.
Today, I have an established philosophy – I call AKIA – that explores the interrelations between earthlings and nature, and Earth and the universe. I have 12 books published and many faithful students. I am an Intimacy & Family coach and help people to find their purpose. The joy of seeing them succeed gives me the strength to find new adventures and learn from new experiences.
I believe that learning is the only way to understand life and the self within. This unique knowledge makes us or breaks us in the end.
The Eternals, a non-magical woman as the Chosen One, Marfóir, and her best friend join in the battle to slay the most evil dragon on earth who’s plan is to take over the world.
Dragons of Mu
by Pamela Ackerson
Genre: Epic Fantasy Adventure
Drakine is rising. The only hope is the hero no one expected.
One non-magical woman is the Chosen One. Destiny won’t wait. With her fiercely loyal friend, Lottie, by her side, and Blaze’s army behind her, Amy is thrust into a war against the most evil dragon ever to preside over the dragon realm on the Island of Mu. A creature whose heinous ambition is nothing less than total annihilation of the mortal world and complete global domination.
To survive, they must fight the ancient powers and unite the fractured kingdoms. The Island of Mu is burning… and only she can turn the tide. Grab your copy today.
**Releases June 26th – PreOrder Now for Only .99cents!**
he rubbed the back of her head, felt a small lump, and winced. Her head was throbbing. Her knee was yelling at her and now she heard angry, men’s voices.
One of them yelled, “Over there! There she is. Get her!”
Another pulled out a long knife and they ran toward her.
Amy rushed into the woods. Turning around, she could see they were catching up to her.
Up, Amy, up.They won’t be looking up.
She climbed an oak tree as high as she could. Pulling on the long skirt, she squatted on a branch.
The branch felt odd and slithered underneath her. A large, looming face in the shape of a dragon stared at her unblinking.
Holy cr—
The creature put a long claw to its mouth and said, “Shhh.”
Amy took a deep breath. A scream was building inside her but before she could release the ear-piercing screech, she was muzzled by the creature. Her heart jolted as its wing enveloped her and she lost consciousness.
A few moments later, she was gulping for air. Fully expecting to open her eyes and see the hotel lobby, she was stunned to be staring into the eyes of a dragon.
–A dragon, a huge dragon with big, green eyes.
You’re safe.
Amy shook her head. “No. No, I’m not. There’s no okay in this, whatever this is at all. This is crazy. Why is this happening?”
Where did you come from?
She stared at his mouth. It wasn’t moving.
This hallucination was freaking weird. A talking dragon that didn’t move his lips. They’re going to take her away and leave her in the psych ward for the rest of her life.
Her eye began twitching. It wasn’t real. None of it makes sense.
Think, Amy. Dragons aren’t real. How could a dragon talk?
Anything can happen in a hallucination. She repeated to herself. This isn’t real.
Was she dead? Is this purgatory? Her own personal nightmare of an afterlife? Could she have injured herself so badly that she died?
She wasn’t a bad person. It certainly wasn’t in Hades. Well, it better not be Hades.
A talking, psychic dragon communicating with his mind.
Of course, it makes soooo much more sense.
She watched as the men ran into the woods, searching for her.
The dragon spoke in a deep, soothing voice, “Why are you dressed in that garb?”
Amy stared at the huge beast.
The beast’s green eyes penetrated her with a questioning glare.
“A— a party. We were going to a party.”
He looked at the bracelet.
“Someone put them in my shopping bag.”
“Let’s go. We need to get you into normal clothing. I’ll take you to Bev’s.”
Amy started climbing down the tree.
“No, no.” The dragon grabbed her and placed Amy on his back before taking flight.
Amy squealed, inhaled and released another louder scream.
“Stop.” His body jolted. “Your obnoxious squawking is impaling my ears.”
Within a few moments, they soared through the air and flew from cloud to cloud.
Her stomach flipped and she swallowed the huge lump in her throat.
“Ugh, no ups and downs, please.”
He laughed. “No quick drops? You’re the slow-boat kind of person.”
Her heart was finally returning to its normal beat. She was getting comfortable riding on his back and was beginning to enjoy the view.
“Whoa! This is awesome. I never have flying dreams.”
The dragon huffed.
Amy was mesmerized. It was freaking fantastic. The warm heat from the sun and soft air on her face, the flapping of his wings, it was glorious.
She could do this. It was peaceful. He was gliding along and she was euphoric.
Hold on.
“Hold on? No, don’t ruin the moment!”
The dragon took a deep dive. Amy let out an earsplitting shriek and gripped the back of his neck tighter as he gracefully landed on the ground in front of a small, wooden cabin.
He grunted in pain.
“Your fingernails are cutting into my skin.”
“Sorry.” Amy dismounted him like she would a horse.
“You don’t look like you’re sorry.”
She gave him an angry side-eye.
He grumbled, “Go. Tell her I sent you.”
“Um. You want me to knock on a stranger’s door, in the middle of BFE, and tell her a dragon sent me?”
“We’re not in Egypt.”
She snapped, “What? We’re in the middle of freaking nowhere. That’s what BFE means!”
Ignoring her irritation, he responded, “We’re in Ireland.”
“Ireland? I’ve never been to Ireland. How am I dreaming that I’m here? I’ve only seen pictures and this in not anything like the pictures.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. I don’t have a passport with me!”
She rubbed her forehead. Why would she need a passport in a dream?
“No worries.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll be back in a blink. In the meantime, tell her Blaze sent you.”
“Oh, look. A fairy circle.”
His wide-eyed, incredulous stare gave her pause. He shook his head. “Wow.”
She shrugged.
“I can’t keep up with you.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot. My mind goes really fast sometimes.” She limped toward the fairy circle.
“What are you doing?”
Amy chuckled. “Making a wish.”
He looked at her like she was growing horns.
“Um, yeah. Make a wish and the fairies will grant it only if they see fit. You have to watch out for all the fairies protecting the fairy circle. You don’t want to step on them, you know.”
Amy stepped back from the circle. “Hello, little fairies. I hope you’re having a pleasant day.”
He harrumphed and walked away.
“Hey, it’s my dream. I can do what I want.”
Amy raised her hand to knock, but never made contact. An elderly woman, in her mid-seventies, opened the door.
“Oh, I thought I heard Blaze’s voice.”
“I’m Amy. He told me to tell you—”
The woman opened the door wider. “Come in. The sun’s going to be setting soon and it’ll be a bit chilly.”
The elderly woman had light hair, dark blue eyes, and a wide, pleasant smile. Her hair was rolled up into a bun tucked on the back of her head. Amy’s memories immediately went to the cartoon with the grandma lady who owned the canary, Tweety.
Amy cautiously entered the house and as she turned to look about, a man rushed through the doorway.
He was an average-looking man except for his eyes. They gleamed an effervescent green. The man’s dark hair was a deep contrast to his light skin.
She never cared for the five o’clock shadow but it did do him justice.
“There you are, Blaze.” She handed him a mug.
“Thank you, Bev.”
“Mark on his way?”
“Soon. He has a few things he needs to take care of before he comes.”
Mark? As in Harlow?
Bev turned to Amy. “What would you like, dear? I’ve got some hot tea on the table or, if it pleases, I can pour another draught.”
“T—”
“She needs normal clothes.”
Amy glared at Blaze. “And who are you?”
“I’m the man who saved your skinny bum and brought you here.”
“And how, pray tell, did you do that? A dragon…” Her voice trailed off.
Bev looked puzzled. “So, she’s not from medieval times?”
“No.”
“She didn’t time-travel here?”
“No.”
Time travel? Amy interrupted, “I can speak for myself.”
“Really?” He snorted. “Go ahead, darling, and explain how you got here.”
“Fine. I was at a party.” Amy flipped her hand in the air. “I tucked the jeweled comb in my wig and the next thing I knew, these men attacked me and I’ve been having this dream or possibly been unconscious ever since.”
Blaze sat at the table. “You’re not unconscious.”
“Then you tell me what’s happening.”
Bev took her arm. “Oh, sweetie, it’s been a day for you, hasn’t it? Sit, relax, and have a cuppa. I’ll get you some clothes that should fit you. We’ll get you all sorted out.”
The concern in Bev’s voice was telling.
Wariness clung to Amy as a hesitant smile tugged at her lips, a stark contrast to how she was feeling.
“I don’t need clothes. I just want to wake up.”
Bev asked, “Wake up?”
Blaze waved Bev’s question off and spoke to Amy, “Somehow, you’ve managed to get two very powerful and magical relics to bring you here. People have gone to war to possess the magical comb and bracelet.”
Amy grunted.
“Those men stole the relics to take over Mu and conquer the magical world. They will not hesitate to kill you for them.”
Amy bit her upper lip, repressing a nervous giggle. “Not ruby-red slippers? Will lightning flash from the jewelry when you try to remove it from my hair and wrist? Do I repeat ‘there’s no place like home’ three times?”
Blaze glowered. “I don’t find your sarcasm amusing.”
She removed the jeweled comb and handed it to Blaze. “Here. Take it.”
Bev glared at Blaze and tapped Amy’s hand. “Blaze can get you back to where you belong and to your party whenever you’re ready.”
“Good.” Amy put her wrist toward Blaze. “I’m more than ready.”
Blaze reached to take the bracelet off her wrist. “It won’t come off.”
Bev put her hand to her chest. “What?”
Amy’s voice shook in panic. “No, no, take it off!”
“It won’t come off.”
“Fine, then I’ll do it.”
She fiddled with the clasp and finally threw up her hands in frustration. “It won’t come off!”
Bev walked over to the cabinet and brought back a bottle of Irish whiskey and three glasses, and said, “It has begun.”
About the Author
Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Wall Street Journal bestselling, award-winning author, Pamela Ackerson is a time traveling adventurer. She was born and raised in Newport, RI where history is a way of life. She lives on the Space Coast of Florida where everyone is encouraged to reach for the stars!
Her literary journey is as diverse and adventurous as the time-traveling escapades she writes about. With a rich tapestry of genres at her fingertips, she weaves stories that span from the wild frontiers of the Old West to the intricate cultural tapestries of Native American history. Her work doesn’t stop at fiction; she delves into the realms of history, self-help, and even marketing, showcasing a versatility that resonates with a wide audience.
Ackerson’s presence on the Space Coast of Florida reflects her forward-thinking approach to writing, always aiming for the next big leap in her storytelling odyssey. Her prolific output is a testament to her dedication to her craft, inviting readers to join her in exploring the vast landscapes of human experience and imagination.
Honest reviews of Pamela’s books are always appreciated.
Absolutely no AI programs were used to create any story she has written.
A quirky detective tackles a haunting family mystery.
Vex Not Her Ghost
The Purebeck Mysteries Book 1
by Gill Calvin Thomas
Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Caitlin was four years old when her mother died in mysterious circumstances. Thirty years later she comes into possession of her family home in Dorset. As she slowly recovers memories of her past, she becomes convinced that her mother’s ghost is warning her of impending disaster.
Aided by Charlie Bond, a private investigator, an enthralling story of deceit and deception unfolds as Caitlin and her friends expose the ultimate truth.
Gill Calvin Thomas is a retired academic who lives with her husband in Swanage , UK. She finds inspiration in the landscape around her – the Isle of Purbeck has a spectacular coastline and beautiful beaches, and it is whilst walking here, that Gill develops characters and plots the twists and turns you will find in her books.
Gill’s life experiences have informed her writing. For example, her mother’s death when she was a small child, influenced her first book, Vex Not Her Ghost, where the heroine has to delve into the past to uncover the real circumstances of her mother’s death, the cover up and the ongoing corruption.
Her experiences as a social work academic governs the plot of her second book, Sister Olive Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly. In this book the fatal combination of a researcher’s mental collapse and a sociopathic opportunist give rise to a cliffhanging finale.
Reviewers have said that Gill writes the sort of books in which you find yourself racing to the end, whilst not wanting to finish. Her characters are compelling, well-drawn and sensitively portrayed. In her books bad people get what they deserve, but it is never quite what it seems.
In 1926 St. Paul, a determined female private investigator uncovers deadly secrets behind a debutante’s suspicious death in this twisty Prohibition-era cozy mystery.
The Nightingale Detective Agency
A Charlotte Van Elsberg Mystery Book 1
by Denise Devine
Genre: 1920’s Historical Cozy Mystery
St. Paul, 1926—where ambition comes at a cost, especially for a woman.
Charlotte Van Elsberg is determined to become the city’s first female private investigator and help women in need. She’s already landed her first case: a grieving mother who wants answers about her daughter, Eleanor Kimball, a debutante killed in a suspicious car crash. Was it truly an accident or something more sinister? Char intends to find out. There’s just one hitch—Char’s husband.
Will Van Elsberg, a seasoned investigator, knows the job too well. It’s no profession for a petite young lady, and he’s not about to let his wife charge headfirst into danger. Char has other ideas. She agrees to hire bodyguards to satisfy his objections.
However, despite the addition of her “new team,” she soon learns that this job is a lot harder than it appears. Doors slam in her face, alibis don’t add up, and everyone appears to be hiding something. Does she have the grit and determination it takes to solve this case?
The more she digs into Eleanor’s carefully polished life, the more she uncovers the young woman’s secrets. Hidden truths that someone is desperate to keep buried. Evidence worth killing for. Now that Char is asking questions, who is determined to stop her from revealing the missing pieces?
If you love Prohibition-era intrigue and twisty whodunits, dive into this 1920s cozy mystery filled with clever clues, hidden secrets, and a bold female sleuth. Grab your copy today and start sleuthing!
“Last night went well,” Will said, commenting on my new bodyguards the next morning as we lingered over strong black coffee in the breakfast room. Golden sunlight filtered through the tall windows from the sun streaming between the mature oaks on the edge of our property. “Sean and Alice seemed to get along fine. What do you think?”
Sean’s manners had come across as overly polite compared to his outburst in the den and I suspected that he was playing to an audience of one. The real test would come when Alice was alone with him. Would he be respectful or try to boss her around? I had my doubts about the former.
“I think I need to let them two sort it out and get going on my investigation,” I replied staring into my glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. “The truth is, I don’t know where to start.”
“Get to know your victim,” Will offered. “Learn everything you can about her—where she lived, her friends and relatives, the places she liked to frequent. The information will provide valuable clues about her life and possibly reveal why she was killed.”
Will set down his cup and leaned back as Gerard approached the table and placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast in front of him. Will looked at me curiously. “You said she was engaged?” He paused to grab a bottle of Heinz Tomato Ketchup.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Gerard wincing at the idea of smothering one’s eggs with that vile concoction. I agreed but kept my opinion to myself. Will loved ketchup, especially this brand, and poured it on his breakfast nearly every morning.
“Take a good look at her fiancé,” Will said seriously. He shook the bottle, poring ketchup all over his eggs and filling the air with a pungent tomato aroma. “In my experience, when you’re investigating the murder of a woman, the guilty party is quite often someone close to the victim. That doesn’t make the fiancé automatically guilty, but it does make him a primary suspect until your investigation proves otherwise.”
“Okay,” I said, jotting down his instructions in my journal as Gerard set a plate of poached eggs and toast in front of me. Interviewing everyone who knew the deceased would be a huge undertaking. Was I up to the task? More importantly, would I gain anything useful from it? The thought exhausted me, and I hadn’t started yet.
“Go back to the scene of the crime,” Will continued and scooped up a forkful of eggs. “Study it, leaving no stone unturned. No detail is too small. Sometimes I find evidence that the police missed.”
I picked up a slice of toast and concentrated on smothering it with Welch’s Grape Jelly to avoid watching Will eat his red eggs. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Read the autopsy report,” he added as he picked up a crisp piece of bacon with his fingers. “The family might have requested their private physician to look it over and interpret it for them but unless they knew medical terms they wouldn’t have a copy of it themselves. You need to grease a palm or two at the coroner’s office to obtain a look at it.”
Oh sure, I’ll just drive to downtown Minneapolis and find someone in the coroner’s office to give me a look-see at that report.
I let out a sigh and took a bite of my toast, pondering how I would actually go about getting someone in the coroner’s office to give me access to the report, much less interpret it for me. I had no idea. “Do I need to read the autopsy report? Is it imperative to my case?”
“It’s another piece of the puzzle, darling,” Will said, his voice softening at my frustration. “If the police ruled her death an accident, the family would want to know if she’d suffered a medical issue at the time, causing her to lose control of the car. If there is a report, you should find out what’s in it.”
Folding my arms, I sat back and stared at him as discouragement began to seep into my mood. Had I made a mistake wanting to become an investigator? The job was clearly more than I’d bargained for.
About the Author
Denise Devine is a USA Today bestselling author who has had a passion for books since the second grade when she discovered Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. She wrote her first book, a mystery, at age thirteen and has been writing ever since. She loves all animals, especially dogs, cats, and horses, and they often find their way into her books.
She has written twenty-two books, including books in the Beach Brides series, Moonshine Madness series, and West Loon Bay series. Her books have hit the Top 100 Bestseller list on Amazon and she has been listed on Amazon’s Top 100 Authors.
cozy mystery series historical cozy mystery 1920s cozy murder mystery series female detective series Prohibition era mystery first in series series starter
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For self-published authors releasing books into a saturated book market, the hardest part often isn’t finishing the manuscript, it’s earning book visibility once the launch buzz fades.
Indie author competition is relentless, and publishing industry trends reward the titles that look familiar, signal value fast, and stay discoverable across multiple touchpoints.
That leaves many strong stories overlooked while their creators wrestle with author marketing challenges that feel vague, noisy, and never-ending. With the right focus, visibility can become a repeatable outcome instead of a lucky break.
Build a Brand-and-Audience Plan You Can Start This Week
Crowded marketplaces don’t reward “best”, they reward “most clearly understood.” A simple, repeatable brand-and-audience plan helps the right readers recognize you faster, trust you sooner, and stick around longer.
Write a one-sentence author brand promise: Draft a single line that combines who your stories are for + the feeling you deliver + the kind of books you write. Example: “Cozy mysteries for cat lovers who want clever clues and comforting small-town vibes.” Use that sentence to guide your cover look, back-cover blurb, bio, and even your posting topics so you’re not reinventing your identity every time you market.
Identify one “primary reader” and one “secondary reader”: Pick one main audience segment you’ll serve first, then a second that overlaps. Define each in 5 bullets: favorite tropes/themes, comparable authors, what they want to avoid, where they hang out online, and what would make them join an email list. This focus is how you avoid getting lost, general marketing disappears in a sea of other general marketing.
Plan social engagement as a weekly routine, not a performance: Use a 20-minute schedule three times a week: 5 minutes commenting on reader posts, 10 minutes posting one valuable nugget, 5 minutes replying to any responses. Aim for “conversation starters” over announcements, polls about tropes, a short passage with a question, or a behind-the-scenes choice you’re making. Readers bond with consistency and accessibility more than volume.
Add one email-list entry point you can maintain: Create a simple reader freebie or “welcome bonus” that matches your brand promise: a prequel scene, a bonus epilogue, a character dossier, or a first-chapter sampler. Put the sign-up link in three places this week: your social bio, your Amazon Author page, and the front/back matter of your ebook. A small list that actually opens emails beats a big list that forgets you.
Choose a content marketing lane you can repeat for 6 weeks: Pick one format you won’t dread, short posts, a monthly article, or a weekly email, and lock in 3–5 repeating themes (tropes you love, research rabbit holes, “if you liked X, try Y,” character spotlights). The fact that 97% of marketers use content marketing as part of their strategy is a good reminder that attention is built over time, not with one big launch-day push.
Optimize your Amazon author presence for clarity and conversion: Update your author bio to match your brand promise, then add a short “start here” pathway: best series order, a recommended first book, and what readers can expect. Refresh your author photo and banner so they visually fit your genre, and keep your book descriptions aligned with the same promise. Treat your cover and page as “packaging” that must signal the right story fast, using a product launch strategy mindset to highlight what makes your book the obvious choice.
Create Consistent Promo Graphics
Once you know the vibe you want readers to recognize, your marketing visuals can reinforce it everywhere you show up.
Using FREE graphics from sources like Pixabay, you can quickly visualize ideas for social posts, ad images, and reusable graphics, then iterate until the look feels like your book world.
When you keep creating toward the same style cues (mood, color palette, setting, typography space, or recurring visual motifs), those custom assets start to look like they belong together, which helps your promos feel cohesive across channels.
If you’re not sure what to use to get consistent results, try browsing Canva. This website can help you find graphics and photos that translates your concept into images faster.
With visuals handled, the next step is making sure readers help carry the message through reviews, smart promotions, and community-building connections.
Self-Publishing Marketing Questions, Answered
Q: What beginner marketing mistake stalls most self-published authors? A: Waiting until launch week to start talking about the book is the most common momentum killer. Getting the word out works best when you build familiarity early with short, repeatable posts and a clear reader promise.
Q: How can I get honest reviews without feeling pushy? A: Start with people who already like your genre, not just friends and family. Offer a free copy with a simple ask: “If you finish, an honest review helps other readers decide.” Make it easy by sharing one direct review link and a deadline.
Q: What should I do if my sales flatline after the initial buzz? A: Pick one channel and run a two week experiment: 3 posts, 1 email, and 1 small promo tied to a single hook. Track one metric like clicks or wishlists so you know what to repeat.
Q: Can networking work if I am introverted or short on time? A: Yes, keep it light and specific: comment thoughtfully on three authors’ posts each week and recommend one book you genuinely enjoyed. Consistency builds recognition faster than big, one-time outreach.
Q: Should I pay for self-publishing marketing services? A: They can help when used selectively and with clear goals, like running ads for a proven blurb or polishing your back cover copy. They are rarely a substitute for an author platform, so pair any spend with ongoing reader connection.
Finish-Strong Marketing Checklist
This checklist turns good intentions into repeatable habits, so your book stays discoverable long after launch. Use it weekly to focus on what moves readers from curious to committed.
✔ Confirm your reader promise in one sentence across bio, blurb, and posts
Compounding Your Personal Brand Into Reliable Long-Term Book Sales
Self-publishing can feel like shouting into the void, especially when strong books don’t instantly translate into steady sales.
The way through is author empowerment: treat effective book promotion as a practice of personal brand growth and genuine audience connection, not a frantic scramble for attention.
When that mindset guides consistent, trackable actions, each review, conversation, and campaign becomes a small signal that stacks into long-term marketing success and steadier momentum.
Small, consistent signals build the visibility that lasts. Choose one checklist item to complete this week and let it be enough. That rhythm builds resilience, motivation, and a career grounded in connection, not luck.
