Naughty Netherworld Press's Blog: Naughty Netherworld Press on Goodreads, page 20
June 11, 2025
The Matrix Opal Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel
Book 1 of the Duchy Wars
Science Fiction
Date Published: 03-25-2025
About the Author
Stella Atrium is a cynical septuagenarian who has spent a lifetime exploring female characters for real world reactions to obstacles. Often pushed into submissive and non-verbal roles, women really live in a world of networking among aunties, cousins, wives of husbands, convenient friends and neighbors. This rich world is largely unexplored.
“I grew up with all brothers, so I knew about women from stories and from school. What I found at school wasn’t anything like in the stories, so I set out to learn why.”
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The Man In Black Book Blast #GayBookPromotions
BOOK BLAST
Book Title: The Man in Black
Author: L.R. Liverpool
Publisher: Black Cab Productions / Texas Poetrope
Cover Artist: Gabriel Sanche
Release Date: November 22, 2022
Tense/POV: First person, past tense, single POV
Genres: MM Historical Romance/Thriller
Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forbidden love, dangerous environment, solving mysteries
Themes: Old West, outlaws, mysterious pursuer, hurt/comfort, murders, emotional traumas, scary dreams
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 897 pages in Kindle format
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
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Who will be safe when a dream figure becomes real?
Blurb
Naive dreamer Fenimore James goes west to become a famous outlaw, but his fantasies of glamorous robberies quickly evaporate when he joins the Red Evans gang, finding himself caught in a strange and bloody game, where gang members are suddenly being murdered one-by-one at the hand of a mysterious pursuer, who leaves cryptic signs scarifying their bodies. As his nights become plagued by a bizarre dream figure––the Man In Black, he also begins to question his sexuality, falling for a fellow male gang member, whom he feared just recently.
Excerpt
Sometime later I had a strange dream, which I still remember in great detail, as if I only saw it yesterday: I’m sitting in a hut by a frost-covered window and watching a stagecoach arrive in the yard. It seems to me that my new friends are also somewhere in the house, but this is more of a feeling, because I don’t really see them anywhere.
I get up and walk outside. The door does not open into the house, but outward––so I force it hard with all my weight, because there is one hell of a snowdrift on the porch. After a couple of violent shoves, it finally swings open. Everything is white all around––continuous snowy expanses and a snow-covered forest are in front, blackened with tree trunks. And some sort of mountains. I look at the stagecoach and notice that it is also all black, and the horses are black too.
Even before I have time to call out to the intruders, the coachman climbs down off the beam and walks in my direction. A tall––very tall––man in a tattered black coat with fluttering hemlines and a worn black hat. He stops a yard away from me and says he’s looking for Red Evans. I answer that Red is in the house and inquire who’s asking for him.
“He knows,” the man replies in a low, hollow voice, as if speaking from underwater.
I keep trying to see his face, but I can’t. The twilight is still light, and the whiteness of the snow illuminates everything all around. But the man’s face is still not visible in the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat and high collar. I feel goosebumps rise, and I want to run for the hills––from this figure in black––without stopping. But I nod, go into the house to search for Red and find him sitting with Monty and Doug in front of a bright fireplace. The color scheme of the entire dream is black, white, and blue; and only the fire is blood red.
I tell the boss that so-and-so, some guy arrived and announced that he was an acquaintance. Then Red reluctantly gets up from his place, and we all go outside. We go out of the house, but there is no stagecoach anymore. No stagecoach, no mysterious guest. Here, of course, they ridicule me, and I scream, convincing them that I saw everything with my own eyes, heard the creak of wheels, the clatter of hooves.
“Maybe,” I suggest, “the guest has already left?”
To which they ask me, “Where are the tracks then?”
And indeed there are no tracks either. Only an endless cover of pristine snow and the prints of our own boots from the doorstep. I remain alone in the yard and continue to stand in the deepening twilight and stupidly stare at the sparkling snowdrifts, trying to understand what happened. And, it seems, there was nothing special in this dream. However, it left an unpleasant feeling in my soul for a very long time.
About the Author
Lily has been writing short stories to entertain her friends since her teen years, and before coming to pen her own novel, she helped her writer friends with research for their fiction and non-fiction. She is a collector of all things dogs, and Balto & Togo, an animal shelters volunteer, a history buff, a vintage trinkets and toys enthusiast.
The Devil In Fine Print Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
The Cipher Conspiracy, Book One
Sci-Fi Thriller
Date Published: May 5, 2025
While Elias’s bestselling novel The Gravity Cipher catapults him into the global spotlight, Drake’s breakthrough in plasma energy mirrors impossible patterns found in a mysterious ancient Codex—one the world was never meant to see.
As secret factions rise and their mother’s hidden allegiances surface, the brothers find themselves on opposite sides of a devastating revelation and are pulled into a deadly game between truth and ambition. . Elias seeks to expose the truth. Drake hungers to control it.
Only one will decide the future. The other may destroy it.
Bold, brilliantly cinematic, and utterly original, The Devil in Fine Print is a genre-bending sci-fi thriller about legacy, betrayal, and the fine line between truth and power. With humanity’s future tethered to a source of power lost to time, one twin will fight to expose the conspiracy… while the other may be its destruction.
The Devil in Fine Print is the series debut that dares to question everything—and reveals the cost of rewriting history.
About the Author
Jhani Mills writes emotionally charged stories where resilience, betrayal, love, and survival collide with lyrical force. She is the two-time award-winning author of Astral Seeds: Eclipse of the Celestial War, the first installment of her epic Astral Seeds trilogy. Her body of work also includes Whispers Where The Wildflowers Bloom and the explosive The Devil in Fine Print, the beginning of a bold new series blending conspiracies, science, and survival against impossible odds.
Known for crafting unforgettable characters and worlds where hope is a rebel force, Jhani’s stories are a testament to the beauty that blooms from broken ground. When she's not writing, she can be found chasing sunsets, savoring strong coffee, and believing fiercely that some of the most beautiful things in life bloom from broken ground and the quietest revolutions often leave the deepest scars — and the brightest legacies.
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June 10, 2025
Shattered Compass Release Blitz #rabtbooktours
A Memoir of Loss, Escape, and Renewal
Memoir
Date Published: June 11, 2025
Publisher: Acorn Publishing
How does a young woman cope when she cannot speak the truth?
When nineteen-year-old Lenore experiences sexual assault while studying abroad in Italy, her entire world shifts. Survival becomes the focus of her daily life, physical illness grabs control of her body, and no one can free her from her pain. A ghost of herself, she takes the path of denial, believing it’s the only way to protect her loved ones and herself from her harsh reality.
On her journey toward peace, she assumes the expected roles of mother and wife, but a traumatic diagnosis puts her at a crossroads. She must start living the life she wants or roam her days as a victim in the chaos of fear. Lenore’s escape through travel allows her to reconcile the imprisonment she’s suffered over the years.
However, when another family tragedy strikes, Lenore understands she must finally come to terms with the silence she’s kept. But what if one incident that happened decades ago is too destructive, too deep to be excavated? Will she be able to find herself in the rubble? Or will she be lost forever?
About the Author
Award-winning travel writer Lenore Greiner grew up in Marin County where, at thirteen, she began her writing journey as a lifelong journal keeper.
At nineteen, her passion for adventure led her to Italy’s heart to study at the University for Foreigners in Perugia and immerse herself in the language and culture. There, the seeds of her memoir were sown.
Lenore has garnered eight prestigious Solas Awards for Best Travel Writing and was honored in Best American Travel Writing 2013, edited by Elizabeth Gilbert. Her writing has appeared in The New York Times, Fodor’s travel guides, and three volumes of Shaking the Tree, an annual anthology curated by the International Memoir Writers Association.
A graduate of UC Davis, Lenore married her college sweetheart, and they now call Southern California home. They share two kids, two kayaks, and too many rambunctious grandkids.
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Chain of Kisses Preorder Blitz #rabtbooktours
BDSM Romance, Capture Fantasy
Date Published: June 13, 2025
Runaway Bride meets Unstoppable Force -- recipe for disaster? Or love rekindled?
For years, Prince Admiral Arles of Tor has been obsessed with Gisel Vanda, who jilted him at the altar. When he discovers the lovely runaway is now a mercenary space captain, he captures her, determined to get Gisel out of his system. He soon discovers she's even more intelligent and beautiful than he remembered, but she is also a political liability he can't afford.
Gisel bitterly regrets jilting Arles, and her love for him still burns bright. Even as he tests her with acts of erotic dominance, she sees the opportunity to redeem herself. But with a murderous enemy closing in, can love survive the demands of royalty?
The following excerpt contains material suited only for readers 18+.
EXCERPT
I gave the manacle on my right arm a restless tug, and it responded with a musical rattle. I couldn't see a damn thing. A blindfold bit into my temples, wrapping me in sensual, intimate darkness.
The lack of vision only made me more aware of him -- his scent, that faint tang of spice and masculinity, the heat of his big body standing just to the left of the bunk he'd chained me to, the slight rasp of his breathing. I have always been acutely aware of Prince Arles of Tor, once my intended, now my captor.
The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down beside me. I quivered like an animal, imagining his nudity. The way he'd looked that night ten years before was branded on my memory. Arles's broad back had flexed as he'd used the light whip, the perfect, tanned hemispheres of his bare ass working in concert with the leap of thigh muscles and the snap of brawny arms.
The girl had squirmed and sighed every time he hit her. Even as young as I'd been a decade ago, I'd known she loved it. The smell of sex hung in the air like some kind of musky, exotic spice.
"That's what he'll do to you," my sister had whispered as we watched from the secret chamber. "And he'll make you want it. Mother will be appalled."
Our mother might have known Arles dominated other women, but it would never occur to her that one of her daughters would feel the need to submit.
We, after all, had been born to rule.
"Never," I'd snarled, with all the melodrama of the seventeen-year-old I'd been. I couldn't drag my eyes away from the prince's feral strength. "I will not shame my blood." I could feel myself going wet.
"You will. He'll weave his alien magic, and you'll bow that proud little head."
I feared Isa was right. Even if I hadn't been in love with him, Arles was too much for me. I'd end up sacrificing everything I was to his dominance and raw male power. My mother would turn from me in disgust and revulsion. I couldn't bear the thought of her disappointment.
But I also knew my mother would force me to abide by the demands of the treaty. Saying no at the altar was not an option.
Two hours later, I slipped from the palace, abandoning my world, my family, and my life. The Capital Spaceport was only a few blocks away, and I meant to seek passage off world. I was too well known to take a flitter taxi -- any capital cabbie knew my curfew and would refuse to pick me up, for fear of the Royal Guard's wrath -- so I decided to walk.
A block from my goal, I was attacked by a pack of throat slitters who dragged me into an alley. I survived only because a passing mercenary heard my screams and charged to the rescue. He killed every one of the slitters and flew me to his ship for treatment of some ugly injuries.
Captain Galon Teve had a merc's hard eyes, but his heart was soft. When I told him my story, the big, gray-haired cyborg took pity on me and hired me on as crew.
My new mentor taught me how to fight, how to kill, and how to pleasure. Yet no matter how I tried, I could never love Galon as he came to love me. My heart was already captive to a boy with a Paladin's eyes -- and a man with a devil's smile.
Under Galon's tutelage, I discovered a talent for tactics and strategy. Eventually I became his second-in-command. When Galon fell in battle against the Fafnar, I succeeded him as captain of the Valkyrie Quest.
Through it all, Arles haunted my shamed fantasies. I'd lie in my lonely bunk with one hand stroking between my thighs, remembering the shadows rolling across his big body in time to the snap of his whip.
Now it was no dream.
Arles touched my nipple, brushing calloused fingertips over the hard nubbin. Just once, but I still caught my breath at the liquid heat that rushed through me.
"Sensitive little breasts." His voice rumbled in the intimate darkness of my blindfold. "I wonder how you'll taste. Shall I find out?"
Saliva flooded my mouth, and I swallowed. I didn't answer.
"I asked you a question." His fingers closed over my flesh in a pinch carefully calibrated to give more pleasure than pain. Yet the potential sting floated just beneath the delight like a dark promise. "I want an answer. Shall I taste you?"
"You'll do as you please. You always do."
"True." He twisted, released, flicked the nipple back and forth, sending warm delight lapping along my nerves. "But a show of submission on your part might appease me."
"I rather doubt it."
"But can you afford to take the chance?" Another hot pinch, this one with a hint of sting. Perversely, I felt heat flood my belly. "My reputation is not exaggerated."
"I never thought it was."
"Perhaps a silk flogger." He brushed his hand over the sensitive flesh of my left breast, gave me a caressing squeeze. "Right across these pretty tits. I would enjoy watching you dance."
"I've heard that of you." I tried for a tone of mild contempt, but my voice sounded too high, too breathless. I silently cursed myself. I could usually act more skillfully for my enemies.
Unfortunately, I'd never seen Arles as a foe. Even now, bound and naked, I remembered the thoughtful boy who'd first taught me strategy over endless games of Conquest. The prince was even more skilled now, a conqueror of two worlds who'd driven the Fafnar from Torrean space with his ruthless, brilliant tactics. When Arles tracked me down three days ago, I'd known I was in trouble.
I wasn't really surprised, though. I'd known the prince would demand a reckoning one day; my actions had done too much damage to his reputation. Anybody who watched the news vids knew that.
I'd also known winning a fight with him wasn't likely. Arles commanded a huge, Starbreaker-class warship that was the pride of the Torrean fleet. Bristling with blaze cannons and thermal torpedoes, the Mjˆlnir outgunned the Valkyrie three to one. Naming that ship after Thor's Hammer had been entirely too apt.
But though the Valkyrie was small, she was fast and nimble. She proved it as the Mjˆlnir chased us for three days through the thickest asteroid field I could find. Arles caught us just as we prepared to escape into superlight space. A salvo of thermal torpedoes blew Valkyrie's quantum engines, leaving us dead in space.
The prince demanded my surrender as the price of my crew's lives. I didn't want my people to pay for my sins, so I'd agreed. Leaving the Valkyrie in the hands of my executive officer, I flew to meet Arles in my personal launch.
When I stepped off the small craft's ramp onto the Mjˆlnir's squadron deck, I found him holding a collar and a set of magnetic slave bands equipped with chains. The golden restraints were engraved with erotic images and studded with emeralds for maximum barbaric glitter. He'd chained and collared me as his grinning crew watched. I could only grind my teeth in rage, trying to ignore the heat in my cunt.
Now Arles traced one finger down my torso, dipped suggestively into my navel, and paused at the neatly trimmed edge of my bush. I managed not to squirm. "I have a suspicion you're wet," he said, his voice dark and low. "Are you? Do I arouse you, Gisel?" He laughed. "Odin knows you've made me hard and hot."
His fingers dipped between my spread thighs. Both of us groaned at the slick, tight flesh he found.
"Ripe," Arles murmured. "Ripe as a peachango. Ready for my cock. Is that what you want, Gisel?"
About the Author
New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades, Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.
Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police department.
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
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The Apache Kid Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
ARMY APACHE SCOUT (The Apache Kid Chronicles-Volume 1)
Fiction / Indigenous / Historical Fiction / Native American
Date Published: 06-03-2015
Publisher: Hat Creek
From Army Scout to Outlaw, from Hero to Legend.
He survived the embers of the fires and murders at the Camp Grant Massacre of the Apache. Young Has-kay-bay-nay-ntayl ("brave and tall and will come to a mysterious end"), a child known by many names but later feared and revered as the Apache Kid-grows up in two cultures where survival means choosing between loyalty and betrayal, his people and their overseers. Trained by the legendary Al Sieber and other former military officers, the Kid makes a meteoric rise to prominence as a First Sergeant of scouts, a warrior whose skill and leadership helps win the U.S. Army's fight against renegades and maintain peace between Apache bands at San Carlos Reservation.
But neither war nor peace are ever simple. When forced to make an impossible choice between his own People or the Army, he chooses his People. His choice leads the Army to imprison him at Alcatraz. Released early by the Army, Arizona Territory tries to imprison him again but he, with seven other Apache on the way to Yuma Penitentiary, escape and become the object of the greatest manhunt in Arizona history. The only one to survive the manhunt, Kid becomes both a ghost and a legend, the most feared border outlaw for the next ten years before vanishing into Mexico.
Seen through Kid's eyes, The Apache Kid: Army Apache Scout brings to life the thrilling and tragic journey of Apache Kid as a young man and the best of the Army's Apache scouts.
About the Author
W. MICHAEL FARMER blends over fifteen years of research into 19th-century Apache history and Southwest living to create richly authentic stories. A retired PhD physicist, his scientific work included laser-based measurements of atmospheric aerosols, and he authored a two-volume reference on atmospheric effects.
His fiction and essays have earned numerous honors, including three Will Rogers Gold and six Silver Medallions, multiple New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards, and a Spur Finalist Award. His novels include The Life and Times of Yellow Boy, Legends of the Desert, and the award-winning Geronimo duology. His latest novels include Trini! Come! and the Chato Duology, featuring Desperate Warrior and Proud Outcast.
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https://mybook.to/TheApacheKid
Beast Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours
(Riptide MC)
Motorcycle Club Romance
Date Published: June 13, 2025
Her ex wants her dead. I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.
Piper -- Discovering my ex was heir to the Las Vegas mafia totally freaked me out, but we parted as friends. Or so I thought. Now he wants me dead. I barely made it out of my house alive. I knew I couldn’t go back, so I called my father in Georgia for help. His solution? He sent a biker to bring me home. Imagine my surprise when the biker turned out to be my one-night stand from a few months back.
Beast -- A one-night stand with a sassy stripper in Las Vegas left me wanting more. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, so a few months later I went back to find her. That didn’t go so well. She’d disappeared, with no forwarding address. Fate’s way of telling me to forget her?
I was getting ready to head home to Georgia when Ace called and asked me to do a favor for Riptide’s FBI contact. His daughter was in San Diego, and some thugs were gunning for her. She needed protection and transportation. I was close enough to offer both in a hurry. Turns out Fate has a sense of humor. I’m not sure how happy my little stripper was when I showed up to rescue her.
Warning: This book contains violence, adult situations, bad language, and a very protective alpha male hero. It is part of the Riptide MC series but can be read as a standalone. There is no cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
EXCERPT
Having a stripper in Vegas as your mom, you grow up fast. And cynical. All the time I was growing up, my mom swore she had no idea who my father was, and I believed her. I’d seen the endlessly changing parade of bed partners while I was growing up. The list of possibilities for my father was probably longer than the line up for free booze at a frat house party. When I turned legal age, I did one of those DNA ancestry things, though, and I’d found him.
An FBI agent. How ironic is that?
Turns out he was a pretty good guy though. He didn’t bat an eye when I confronted him, just asked why he’d never heard of me before. I have a feeling he already knew the answer to that one.
I wasn’t a “Daddy’s little princess” kind of girl -- too late to go down that road. He wasn’t the doting father type either, so we got along okay. It helped that I lived in the West, and he lived in Georgia. We’d only met in person once, but we kept in touch, and just knowing I had one stable parent kind of made me feel almost normal. Almost.
Now it was time to find out just how much he cared. I tapped on his number in my contact list and waited for him to answer.
“Hello, Piper. What’s up?” He sounded relaxed. Given the time zone difference between coasts, he was probably settled in for the night and watching whatever sport was currently being broadcast.
“Hey, Dad. Funny thing happened when I got off work tonight. Got a minute to talk?”
“Sure.”
“Remember me telling you I’d been dating a guy named Drake, and it didn’t work out so well?”
“Yeah. You’re not pregnant, are you?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. That would be really bad. See, what I didn’t mention was the reason I bailed was because I found out Drake had mob connections.”
“Mafia? Are you serious?” He didn’t sound relaxed anymore. “Exactly what kind of connection are we talking about?”
I gulped. “He’s being groomed to take over his father’s operations. As in he’ll be the next don. They run most of the illegal activity in Vegas.”
Dead silence greeted my statement.
“Dad?”
“I’m here. Just trying to digest this. Ignoring the part where you were dating a mafia kingpin, you split with that guy months ago, so what happened tonight?”
“Someone tried to kill me. They said Drake ordered it.”
“That doesn’t make sense. He let you go and ignored you for months. Why would he suddenly want you dead? No offence, but my experience with those kinds of guys is they’re pretty casual about their affairs. Once they’re done, they’re done and they move on, especially if you were never involved in family activities.”
“Exactly what I thought we’d done. We said goodbye and both moved on. I even took a gig in San Diego and left the area so I’m nowhere near him. Haven’t seen him since the break-up. I have no idea what the hell is going on, or why he suddenly wants me dead.”
“Did he ever discuss his business dealings with you, or did you ever overhear anything you shouldn’t have?”
“No. I was clueless, until he suddenly decided to fess up. I had a feeling he wanted out. He knew I wouldn’t hang around once I found out.”
“Okay. We can figure that out later. Right now, we need to get you safe. Where are you?”
I looked around. “Hiding under a willow tree a couple of blocks from my house. Empty lot on the corner.”
“Right. I’m going to send someone to pick you up and bring you here. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll call you back with details.”
“Thanks.” I let out a sigh of relief. Glancing down at my phone, I realized it had been less than an hour since I’d left work. Amazing how quickly life could change.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. Dad. I hit accept.
“Good news. One of the groups we use for security happens to have an agent in your area. He should be there to pick you up in twenty minutes or so, depending on traffic. Just a heads up, he’s on a bike. You okay with that?”
“A bike, as in a motorcycle?”
“Yeah. He’s a big guy, lots of leather and tattoos. He looks a little rough, but he’s decent and I told him to get you a helmet. Luckily, he was out there on personal business and was just getting ready to head back here to his home base. There’s a hamburger joint two blocks east of your position. He’ll meet you there. I sent him a picture so he’d recognize you. He’ll ask if you like the ocean. You answer yes, but the riptides are dangerous. Got that?”
I knew the place he was talking about. I stopped in there occasionally for takeout. Despite the shabby exterior they made damn good hamburgers. This was starting to sound like a B-rated movie, though, with code phrases and clandestine meetings. “Are you serious? About the ocean question?”
“You need some way to recognize each other. Code phrases work just fine for that.”
“Okay. I got it. Yes, I like the ocean, but the riptides are dangerous.” I paused. “Dad?”
“Yeah, Piper?”
“I appreciate this. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m glad I can help.” He made a sound halfway between a chuckle and cough. “Not like I have a ton of kids running around, and we’re just getting to know each other.”
“Thanks anyway.” I stood up and brushed the dried grass and dirt off my backside.
“Call me when you’re safe with Beast.”
“Beast?” That didn’t sound comforting.
“Just what the guys call him. He looks like someone you’d cross the street to avoid. Might look scary if you don’t know him, so Beast. He’s an ex-SEAL and they tend to come with muscles.”
“Okay. A beast on a bike.” I tried to sound cheerful. “Talk to you soon.” Disconnecting the call, I slung my purse across my shoulder. I tucked the phone into my hip pocket so I’d feel it if it vibrated. It occurred to me that Drake had this number. Once I was safely out of California, I’d have to do something about that.
The burger joint was packed, but I managed to squeeze into a booth toward the back. I had a good view of the parking lot out the window, and anyone looking for me would have a hard time seeing me through the crowd at the front.
I ordered fries and a coke. Having someone take shots at me had killed my appetite but I needed to order something to justify taking up a table. I was pushing the food around on the plate when the sound of a motorcycle penetrated the chatter of the dinner time crowd.
The biker pulled his machine up to the front of the building and dismounted. Dad was right. That guy was huge. Tossing his helmet onto the seat, he raked his hands through his hair and grabbed a duffel bag from under a cargo net on the back seat before heading inside. The door hadn’t closed behind him before his gaze rested on me, pinning me in place.
Picking up a toothpick from the counter, he stuck it in his mouth like a cigar. A grumpy frown marred his rugged features as he strode between the tables to where I was sitting.
Shit. I knew that face. And that body as well, although there were a lot fewer clothes on it the last time I saw it.
And the last time I’d seen him, his name was Johnny, not Beast.
He slid into the seat across from me, his gaze pinning me in place. “So, how do you like the ocean, Piper?” he asked.
About the Author
Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all with a happily ever after.
She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing guitar, singing and of course, reading.
Author Contact Links
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
Bolo the Brave Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Kids Western Adventure
Date Published: 04-17-2025
Publisher: Speaking Volumes
You can learn a lot from a dog . . .
Meet Charlie Spears, a 10-year-old boy living on the High Plains of Texas in the late 1800s. Charlie lives with his Grandpa Will, who runs a chuckwagon, feeding all the adventurous folks traveling West in wagon trains. After losing his parents to illness, Charlie is often lonely and longs for a true friend. One day, by a stroke of luck and a big wag of a tail, Charlie meets a funny-looking dog named Bolo, who is also looking for a friend. Together, they embark on a journey where Charlie learns important life lessons.
In the first story: Bolo the Brave, Charlie discovers the meaning of courage and how to face challenges when a friend is in danger.
In the second story: True Friend, Charlie gains valuable insight—not to judge people by their limitations, but rather by their actions and character.
In the third story: Outcast, Charlie and his friends learn the importance of getting to know someone instead of passing judgment based on their appearance.
Together, Charlie and Bolo make new friends, confront dangers, and grow through valuable life lessons. As the story reminds us, you can learn a lot from a dog.
About the Author
Jim Jones is a native Texan who lives in Rio Rancho, NM. In addition to being a Western novelist, he is also an award-winning Western singer/songwriter (International Western Music Association 2014 Male Performer of the Year; IWMA Song of the Year Award, 2019; Western Writers of America Spur Award, 2013, 2017 & 2021 for Western Song of the Year) who performs at festivals, coffeehouses and other venues throughout the West. Rustler's Moon, Jim's first novel, was a finalist in two categories for the 2009 New Mexico Book Awards, Best Historical Fiction and Best First Book. His novel, Colorado Moon, 2011, is the second in the Jared Delaney Series and it won the Western Music Association's 2011 Award for Outstanding Western Book. The third book in the series, Waning Moon, was published in 2013 and was also a New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards Finalist for Best Historical Fiction. The Big Empty, a spinoff series, was published in 2016 by Five Star Publishing and it, too, was a NM/AZ Book Awards Finalist in the Best Historical Fiction category. The second book in the spinoff series, The Lights of Cimarron, was published by Five Star in early 2019. The fourth book in the Jared Delaney Series, Halo Moon, was released in November, 2022 and won the 2023 AZ/NM Book Award for the Best in Adventure category. Jim creates gripping Old West characters about whom readers in the 21st century can care deeply. They struggle with tough economic times and corrupt government officials...wait, that's going on right now! Guess what, it was happening then, too. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Jim is a proud member of both the Western Writers of America and the Western Music Association. Although he writes about cattle rustling, Jim has never rustled cattle.
Contact Links
Purchase Link
https://mybook.to/BolotheBrave
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Wednesday, After Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Baker Mischief Book 4
Political Thriller
Date Published: 06-10-2025
What would happen if a man of integrity, calm judgment, and firm conservative principles were elected our President? Would he do better than what we have? Or might he discover that behind America’s expressed principles something still lingers from the Fall? That behind our longing for justice, for community, for fairness, for freedom, for beauty, proportion, for the things that nurture all that is good, Something is still out there?
Let’s see.
About the Author
Dr. Richard Sherry is the author of the Baker Mischief series, including A Month of Sundays (2022) ; Mondays, Mondays (2023) ; and First Tuesday 2024. The political thriller series introduces retired political science professor Dr. Ed Baker, determined to open up American politics to daylight. He is almost always up against both the law and forces attempting to conceal their influence on American life. In A Month of Sundays, Baker uncovers who owns senators up for election in 2020 and releases their emails to the voters in their states. In Mondays, Mondays, he reveals a "voting bloc" in the Supreme Court and who is influencing them. In First Tuesday, Baker and his former students look at the influential forces behind the 2024 presidential election, with surprising results.
Richard released a memoir in 2020, The Long Run: Meditations on Marriage, Dementia, Caregiving, and Loss (2020), about his first wife's illness and death.
Richard is a retired college professor and administrator. He resides in Minnesota and winters in Arizona with his wife Marjorie Mathison Hance, author of the North lakes Murder Mystery Series.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
https://mybook.to/WednesdayAfter
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June 9, 2025
Death and Maia Book Blast #GayBookPromotions
BOOK BLAST
Book Title: Death & Maia
Author and Publisher: A. C. Jolly
Cover Artist: Alyssa Winans
Release Date: April 24, 2025
Tense/POV: first person, present tense, single POV.
Genres: FF Dark Fantasy, Historical, Paranormal
Tropes: Fated mates
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: Approx 35 000 words/184 pages
It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited and Paperback
Amazon US | Amazon UK | BookShop.org
Can love truly conquer death when mortality stands in the way?
Blurb
A lush, sapphic romantasy.
In the shadowed streets of plague-ridden Athens, Maia lies on the brink of death. When the grim reaper appears to claim her, Maia makes a bold request: a kiss.
Ancient and enigmatic, Lady Death has guided countless souls into the unknowable afterlife. But Maia is different. Her resilience and humour—and that kiss—awaken a desire that Death has never known. What begins as a moment of terrified curiosity deepens into a passion as tender as it is consuming.
Excerpt
There’s death and sheaves of hyacinth beside me in the chamber. The body of the other girl lies on the floor. I can see her in the darkness like a misshapen pale rock in a shallow puddle. I want to swim to her.
I was with her when she died. I didn’t know her name, but I told her mine.
“My name’s Maia,” I said. I don’t think she heard me. Her thin breath was drowned out by the music coming from the street below. A festival, the Anthestreria by the sounds. But I knew that she was still alive, and as long as she lived, I might. My wrists were tied above my head to a bracket on the wall.
“I’m here,” I said. “I’ll wait with you.”
But she drowned to death, or burned, or something. I didn’t know her name.
And now there’s only me, and the party downstairs is finished, and the street outside is quiet. Dawn has come and it finds me dying, too. I was working in a different neighbourhood with the other girl, who was so, so pretty. “Follow me,” I remember saying to a passerby, some young guy with an absent look and fancy laundered clothing. He smelled good. I took the pretty no-name girl by the hand because I wanted her with me, and the guy followed us down a narrow street to a doorway strung with many-coloured ropes.
After that I don’t remember much until the neighbourhood, below us, below our chamber, got fired up with the festival and its lights purred orange on the back wall. And then the music died and the sun rose, just about enough to see the flowers on the step beside the shuttered door, no doubt to cover up the smell of the body of the pretty no-name girl.
It’s hot in the chamber. I sit with my back against the wall, a rag across my stomach. I couldn’t tell you how many days I’ve been here. I’m starting to think that the fires and the music and the shouting in the street may not be festive at all, unless many months have passed since that pretty afternoon with the girl, the guy, the doorway with the many-coloured ropes. Unless the music that I’m hearing is carried to me from a far, far different quarter of this city or the next one over. I think about home. My cabin. I miss it. My tiny little cabin where I keep my only thing, a patterned clay horse figurine, on a stool beside the mattress.
The dim light fades. Maybe it’s another evening. And I’m still not dead. The hyacinth is failing at its job. It’s night again and I can’t remember what it’s like to have arms—well, what it’s like to feel them. They’re not actually tied to a bracket on the wall. That’s just fucking nonsense. They’ve fallen at my sides and don’t move.
The chamber fills with cooking-fire flakes and the music blares. I open my eyes, which rasp with dryness, and black smoke falls from the long, high slit of window at the top of the opposite wall. And if my nose wasn’t telling me otherwise, I’d think it wasn’t smoke at all but a river of perilous dark hair that runs down the wall, sinks down the wall, and starts to fill the chamber, flooding round the body of the pretty no-name girl, and I panic, thinking, Shit, she’s gonna drown!
But she’s dead already.
And this evening Death has come again, for me.
She kneels in front of me, a woman dressed in subtle linens. In her right hand she holds a moist and I assume human heart with fronds of cypress growing out its ventricles. She has the pale face of a barbarian and jet-black hair and dark eyes, not black but glorious brown and shot with other colours, whirling blue and green, each eye a round of deep sky reversed on a field of white moon.
She says, “You may ask something small of me, if it is reasonable.”
And although I’ve never actually heard her voice, I kind of already know it. You would too, if you came from my neighbourhood. And right now, in this moment, I’m determined not to ask her for a thing, but I know that won’t last. She is unspeakably lovely and ancient, and I’ll definitely crumble. But I play it out, anyway. “You took your time,” I say, because the truth is I should have died eight years ago, when a dated version of this fever took my parents and uncles and baby brothers, or five years ago, when my master and his favourite slaves were murdered by his business partner, or just a month ago, when a wild wolf-dog came down the alley and through the empty canteen where I was drinking down my supper.
She smiles briefly and her teeth are white and perfect. That smile makes me sure this is the way she prefers it done. I mean, if I was her, I’d enjoy the rude ones a lot more than the simps.
“My name’s Maia,” I say. “What should I call you, Lady?”
“My name is Death.”
Alright, so now I’m scared. My split lips sting with salt from tears and sweat. And I’m so fucking angry at myself because there’s no point in that, there’s no point in crying, because I have no choice. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” I say, and my breastbone cracks as the breath coils, blooms, inside my body.
“Why promise that?” says Lady Death.
And she’s not holding the cypress heart anymore. Instead, a column of fine red dust drops from the funnel of her hand.
“I wanted to defy you,” I say raggedly. “You know how it goes.”
“I do,” she says. “But why waste time? Remember, you may ask something small of me, if it is reasonable.”
I take a breath.
“A kiss,” I say, because why not. “Is that reasonable?”
“Aye,” says Lady Death, and I suppose she’s granted this same favour a thousand million times before.
She has to come to me because I can’t move. She holds my face in her hands, and they’re warm like fire but do not burn, and her lips meet mine gently, and they’re soft and cool like mist but do not chill. Her tongue tastes of sweet apples, and peppery, exactly what I’d hope for from the wildest, freshest, most inspirited of oils. I keep my eyes shut tight because the final thing I want to see on earth is her mouth as she handed it to me.
I keep my eyes shut tight and say, “Who knew Death would be so beautiful?”
About the Author
I'm a writer from New Zealand, and now live in the UK with my wife. I wrote Death & Maia, which is about a romance between Lady Death and a mortal woman, after watching the TV series Agatha All Along and being a bit disappointed with the (lack of) backstory.
Author Links
Naughty Netherworld Press on Goodreads
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