Friday, September 4, 2026

Damiana ♥ Cover Reveal

 

Damiana
Lilly Manning
(The Sigils Series, #1)
Publication date: October 22nd 2026
Genres: Adult, Horror, Romance

The retreat promised the other half of her soul.

It was a promise with a waitlist: black-sand beaches, redwood fog, luxury glamping, ceremonial cacao, and a bonfire where every guest casts a sigil for the kind of love she’s been waiting her whole life to find.

Draw the symbol. Feed it to the flames. He’ll come.

Marlowe only attends because her boss pays for her to go. It’s all nonsense, she tells herself. An evening of designer spirituality for women desperate enough to believe the lie.

Then every woman’s wish starts coming true. Including hers.

Damian is everything she asked for—patient, devoted, ruinously handsome—and the only person trying to convince her not to sign up for the next retreat.

Because the fire wasn’t symbolic. The women didn’t manifest anything. Every wish was answered by design.

Now the retreat’s charismatic founder and the secretive sisterhood behind her wellness empire expect Marlowe to honor a bargain she never knew she made.

And walking away has never been part of the program.

The fire doesn’t forget what was promised.

Add to Goodreads / Pre-order


Author Bio:

Lilly Manning writes romance and romantic suspense—stories where the tension isn't just between the sheets. Her stories are built on sharp heroines, guarded heroes, and worlds where secrets are currency and trust has to be earned.

A ghostwriter for years, Lilly spent a long time putting her words into other people's names. The Alias Series is her first work published as herself.

Earned, Book I of The Alias Series, is available now on Amazon.

Website / Facebook / Instagram



Thursday, September 3, 2026

You Are Your Own Lost Love Blitz @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #YouAreYourOwnLostLove #SusanneLandgrebe #Memoir




Memoir • Inspirational • Spiritual Growth • Personal Transformation • Mindfulness • Self-Help

Date Published: July 15, 2026

Publisher: MindStir Media



Our journey through life is rarely smooth sailing. We weather tempests of anguish, traverse valleys of despair and fractured hopes, and carry the scars of battles fought both within and without. Trauma becomes an indelible mark etched upon our souls, a testament to survival. Landgrebe, a cancer survivor, shows us that amidst these tempests, and within the quiet recesses of our being, lies a sanctuary, a realm where healing begins and self-love blossoms. It beckons us to shed the veils of doubt, to release the burden of seeking validation, and to speak the truth of our own worthiness. This book is a guide through the labyrinth of self-discovery, healing, and love. It invites you to embark on a transformative quest: to heal the wounds of the past, to nurture the seeds of compassion, and to bloom into a positive force. You will journey through the art of becoming whole again. Through stories, ancient wisdom, and practical practices, YOU Are Your Own Lost Love leads us from the shadows of trauma into the luminous expanse of self-acceptance and peace. Join Landgrebe on this sacred pilgrimage to return to the heart of our existence. Together, you will rediscover the brilliance within and unveil the timeless truth that has been waiting all along: YOU are your own lost love.

 

About the Author

 

 There comes a moment in every life when the search outward becomes a journey inward.

For more than three decades, Susanne Landgrebe has devoted her life to helping others remember what she believes is the deepest truth of the human experience: we are not broken, and we have never been separate from the love we seek.

A Nurse Practitioner certified in Family Practice, Dermatology, and Integrative Medicine, Certified Yoga Therapist, and Certified Meditation Teacher, Susanne has spent more than twenty-five years blending the wisdom of modern medicine with contemplative practice, mindfulness, and the profound healing that arises through self-compassion, presence, and authentic connection.

Her understanding of healing has been shaped not only by decades of caring for patients, but by walking through her own darkest valleys. As a survivor of Philadelphia chromosome-positive acute lymphoblastic leukemia and multiple life-threatening complications, she discovered that even in the face of profound uncertainty, the human spirit possesses an extraordinary capacity to awaken, love, and begin again.

A lifelong meditator, retreat leader, writer, mother, grandmother, and mountain climber, Susanne finds her greatest teachers in both silence and nature. Whether sitting in meditation on the Iowa prairie, leading others in retreat, or standing atop a fourteen-thousand-foot peak in the Rocky Mountains, she is continually reminded that the outer journey mirrors the inner one: every ascent begins with a single courageous step, and every summit reveals an even wider horizon.

Her writing weaves together science, spirituality, psychology, and lived experience with warmth, honesty, and hope. She invites readers to move beyond fear, perfectionism, and the endless search for fulfillment outside themselves, returning instead to the quiet wisdom and love that have always lived within.

YOU Are Your Own Lost Love is the first of what she hopes will be many books exploring healing, awakening, resilience, and the extraordinary beauty of being fully alive. Her greatest wish is that every reader closes her books feeling a little lighter, a little freer, and more deeply at home within themselves.

Because the greatest journey we will ever take is not toward becoming someone new, it is toward remembering who we have been all along.


Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Instagram

TikTok

YouTube

"X"

Threads


Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Bookshop.org

Walmart


RABT Book Tours & PR

The Devil War of Hearts #3 Cover Reveal




Title: The Devil
Duet: War of Hearts #3
Author: Natasha Knight
Genre: Dark Mafia Romance
Cover Design: Coverluv
Release Date: September 24, 2026


BLURB TO BE REVEALED SOON!


“How did you find me?”
“What makes you think I ever lost you?”








PRE-ORDER LINKS

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Only available at the following retailers
for a limited time




AVAILABLE NOW


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Read in Kindle Unlimited



AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited



AUTHOR BIO


Natasha Knight is the USA Today Bestselling author of Romantic Suspense and Dark Romance Novels. She has sold over a million books and is translated into six languages. She currently lives in The Netherlands with her husband and two daughters and when she’s not writing, she’s walking in the woods listening to a book, sitting in a corner reading or off exploring the world as often as she can get away.



AUTHOR LINKS


Wednesday, September 2, 2026

Heir of the Wizard Book Blitz @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #HeiroftheWizard #NJMcConnell #YAFantasy





Young Adult Fantasy Adventure

Date Published: July 9, 2026

Publisher: MindStir Media



A Wholesome Middle-Grade and Young Adult Fantasy Adventure by N.J. McConnell


In the magical world of Selah, humans, dwarves, caruans, and other remarkable peoples have lived together in peace for generations. But beyond the safety of their kingdoms, an ancient evil has awakened—one determined to divide the nations and conquer the world.

To prepare his people for the coming darkness, El Selah sends his spirits into the world, blessing chosen individuals with extraordinary magical gifts.

Runric has spent his childhood living a quiet, isolated life in the forest. Now coming of age, he leaves everything familiar behind and journeys with his loyal caruan friend, Falid, to compete in a worldwide magic contest. Blessed with six different forms of magic, Runric quickly attracts attention in the neighboring kingdom of Palanda—along with a level of fame he never wanted.

As the competition draws him into a dazzling world of princesses, kings, mysterious creatures, and rival magic wielders, Runric begins to uncover secrets about his own family. The ancient enemy threatening Selah may be connected to a danger first discovered by his father—and by the mother Runric has long believed was lost.

Torn between the simplicity of his forest home and the responsibility that comes with his remarkable abilities, Runric must decide whether he is ready to embrace his destiny. His greatest challenge will not simply be learning how to control his magic, but developing the faith, wisdom, mercy, and discernment needed to use it well.

Heartwell: Heir of the Wizard is a captivating middle-grade and young adult fantasy adventure filled with imaginative world-building, memorable friendships, wholesome humor, magical contests, family mysteries, and an unforgettable battle between good and evil.

Perfect for readers in fifth grade and above—and for families who enjoy clean fantasy fiction—this coming-of-age adventure explores:

● Faith, courage, and personal responsibility

● Friendship across cultures and kingdoms

● The importance of wisdom and discernment

● Family, identity, and belonging

● Using one’s gifts for a greater purpose

● Choosing what is right when darkness begins to rise

Enter the world of Heartwell and discover a family-friendly fantasy story where magic reflects character, unlikely heroes find their courage, and one young man’s gifts may hold the key to saving all of Selah.



About the Author

 

 N.J. McConnell is a Texas-based author of wholesome middle-grade and young adult fantasy. A software engineer with degrees in computer science, he brings the logic of a programmer and the imagination of a lifelong fantasy reader to his richly developed stories.

Inspired by reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit as a child, McConnell began writing the kind of relatable, family-friendly fantasy adventures he wished he had encountered more often growing up. For more than a decade, he has developed the magical world of Heartwell—a place filled with memorable characters, imaginative kingdoms, exciting quests, and meaningful lessons about faith, wisdom, mercy, courage, and discernment.

McConnell is the author of Heartwell: Heir of the Wizard, a coming-of-age fantasy adventure for readers in fifth grade and above. Through compelling characters, wholesome humor, magical contests, and timeless conflicts between good and evil, he hopes to create stories that entertain the entire family while encouraging readers to use their unique gifts with integrity and purpose.

Born and raised in Texas, N.J. McConnell lives in San Antonio with his wife and two children. When he is not writing, reading fantasy, or developing software, he enjoys coaching youth basketball and teaching Bible classes. Seeing his children experience the world and characters he spent years creating has made his journey as an author especially meaningful.

Learn more about N.J. McConnell and the Heartwell fantasy series at heartwellstories.com.

 

Contact Links

Goodreads

Website

Facebook

Instagram

TikTok


Purchase Links

Amazon

B&N


RABT Book Tours & PR

The Last Summerville Book Blitz #Giveaway

 

The Last Summerville
Annabelle Lewis
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller, Romance, Suspense, Thriller

Twenty-two-year-old Georgia Parker already carries more regret than most people twice her age. Practically an orphan, she’s reeling from the death of her grandmother, Mimi—the one person who made her feel safe from the chaos of her mother’s world. Alone in Carson City, Nevada, Georgia is determined to start over, to stand on her own. Yet Mimi’s final words echo in her mind: Take risks. Trust people again. Be brave.

Then Heath Summerville steps into her life—charming, magnetic, protective, and so perfectly attuned to her needs it feels like fate. But the closer Georgia gets, the more she feels the pull of something she can’t name—something just beneath the surface of his charm.

Strange silences. Half-truths. High-society circles and an ancestral house that feels more like a trap than a refuge.

Lies are waiting to unravel. And by the time Georgia sees the truth, it might already be too late.

Goodreads / Amazon

CHAPTER 1:

“Get me out of this godforsaken town and back to civilization,” Vicky grumbled.

Georgia, behind the wheel, glanced at her mom, Vicky, who was shakily applying lipstick while looking in a handheld compact mirror. Vicky clicked it shut, then pulled down the passenger visor, only to find the old car devoid of a larger mirror. She swatted it back up, then garbled a sound of exasperation before diving back into her purse in search of something else.

Georgia didn’t see the lure of Las Vegas like her mother did. It was one of many differences between them. “No!” she suddenly exclaimed when Vicky put a cigarette to her lips, intending to light it. “Not in the car.”

“Why are you such an old damn scold, Georgia?” Vicky scowled. “You’re twenty-two years old, for fuck’s sake. Your holier-than-thou bullshit has gotten worse. Every time I see you.”

Vicky shook her head, then turned to stare out the window. Georgia swallowed back the words she wanted to throw in her mom’s face.

Not today. Not after all they’d been through.

They spent the rest of the drive to the Carson City airport in awkward silence. Georgia pulled to the curb at the departures area and then walked to the back of the Ford Bronco to help retrieve the bags. Vicky took them, mumbled goodbye, and walked away without a hug.

“Goodbye, Mom,” Georgia called loudly as she shivered in the cold, standing next to the back of her Mimi’s Bronco. She watched Vicky drag her bag, her head bowed, her eyes already on her phone. She didn’t turn to give Georgia one last look of goodbye, nor acknowledge Georgia’s use of the tender moniker of “mom,” rather than the usual “Vicky.” It hurt. But why Georgia expected Vicky to suddenly become maternal was the bigger question. And neither of them had made falsely loving or empty promises to keep in touch.

Author Bio:

Annabelle Lewis—a pseudonym for the author—lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Regrettably? Perhaps. She still believes she’s a Texan even though the math no longer supports that. Nor her birthplace. Nor her residence. No offense, Minnesota. You’ve got your good points too, but only about six months of the year.

In her youth, Annabelle was a complete failure. Ask anyone who knew her. Any of her teachers and family would tell you this. High school graduation was a sad day for all when Annabelle walked proudly off the high school stage, her thoughts consumed with boys, beer, and after-parties, and later into the arms of her parents. Her father’s laughter and singular remark? “I didn’t think you’d make it. Get a job at the post office, they have a good retirement plan.”

A high bar and words to live by, but Annabelle wanted more. She needed to flunk out of college too. But damn, she sure did have a good time. Trivial arrest records not-withstanding, it was a growth period for our girl. And if you look closely, you’ll see a bit of what was to come when she majored in criminal justice. Her lifelong aspiration was to become a judge. Hmm.

For better or worse, Annabelle didn’t graduate from college but did find gainful employment and a fulfilling career. This path ended when she became a mom. Married to her wonderful George, who to this day can hardly remember an actual proposal, Annabelle finally became a mother. She didn’t have a clue how hard she would need to work to keep those self-imposed requirements of Downey-fresh, iron-pressed sheets, home-baked meals, and mom-of-the-year awards arriving. She composed a small self-affirmation song and made her children sing it to her for money. She was a very good mom.

After clearing the largest hurdles of motherhood and regrettably, begrudgingly, and not-without-tears, launching her children onto the world, she looked around and realized she had a lot to say. Picking up a laptop, she got to work.

Annabelle spends her days continuing to tackle the challenges of motherhood, for both her humans and canines. She also writes. And reads. And cleans. And cooks. And bakes. And cleans again. She also supports her husband, George, in an administrative capacity for their small business. She’s in charge of payroll and cuts George’s checks. This leads to no marital acrimony.

In the beginning, with the blank page staring at her and possibly in a hostile mood after being literally mauled by a dog and by the world in general, she had an idea. What if she could wield a force of good upon unsuspecting evil-doers? What if she had the resources to get the job done without dealing with committee and anyone else’s whiney-ass opinions?

It was gold. It took off. Annabelle sat down and began to write and couldn’t stop. To date, having written over a million words in the Carrows Family Chronicles and her second series on the Boston Clairvoyants, several items have become quite clear. Annabelle had a lot to say. Annabelle really enjoys writing. And although she hates all things technology, she begrudgingly pounds her head on her desk daily as obstacles are thrown in her path. Almost a hero.

Since entering her world of make-believe, she has rebelled against all intrusion of real-world responsibilities. Her house is a mess, but she tries. Her family is fed, but more often than not, on takeout. She vows to shower every day, but no, it’s a vow she’ll never keep. Her friends are neglected, but not in her heart.

Read her mordacious blog! Read her books! Follow her on social platforms! Sign up for her newsletter! These are all good things. What are you waiting for? Jump into bed with Annabelle. She’s having a swell time. You should join her. theannabellelewis.com annabellelewisauthor@gmail.com IG and Twitter: alewisauthor





The Last Summerville Blitz


Sunshine Boy Teaser Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 





LGBTQ Rockstar Romance

Date Published: September 4, 2026



What if they’re not just friends? It could be murder!

After Julian’s sister sets him up with a charming Frenchman, Rahul thinks he may be getting over Julian, especially since Julian is back with his ex, Michael. Their band is finally taking off and the future seems bright. Then Julian hints he may return Rahul’s feelings. But what might happen if they become more than friends?

 

WARNING: Violence, Drinking/Substance use, Mentions of murder, Trauma/PTSD.

 


EXCERPT

 

Julian’s flat was a disaster, but Mel couldn’t be sure if it was on account of Julian tearing the place apart in a fit of pique or if it was always like this. Based on what his room had been like when she and her big brother had lived at home, she didn’t really doubt this was just the way he lived.

Mel hadn’t been here since the day Julian had moved in three years ago. She saw enough of her brother at the place where they worked, the place where they drank, and the place where they performed. She hardly needed to come round his place to get even more time with the manic muppet.

Julian even did devastation manic. He was pacing around the living room, pulling at his hair, talking a mile a minute. Mel could hardly keep up with what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all and not just babbling incoherently.

“… just a jazzy giraffe freak clomping around my life with his big stupid hooves and not even looking for oncoming traffic or anything… wouldn’t even slow down at a zebra crossing, even if there was kids in it, or like countryside sheep or whatever… just plow right through ‘em -- WHAM -- ‘sorry, missus, was this your daughter sheep? Too bad, I’m after Julian, can’t slow down or I’ll lose him!’ Honestly, it’s like he isn’t…”

Mel grabbed a handful of Julian’s fake leather jacket as he came past and yanked him down onto the sofa beside her. He looked startled and disorientated, like a somnambulist being unceremoniously awoken. He blinked at Mel as though only just now noticing her.

“You’ll give yourself an aneurysm going on like that,” Mel said coolly, lighting up a cigarette.

Her words were the scissors that cut the strings of Julian’s loosely gathered sanity. He crumpled in on himself, burying his face in his hands. For one horrified moment, Mel thought he might be crying. But he just groaned, a long pitiful noise like that of a wounded animal.

“It’s all gone tits up, hasn’t it?” he mumbled into his palms.

It had in fact, in Mel’s opinion, gone tits up. Julian’s best friend, Rahul -- the “jazzy giraffe freak” -- had told Julian’s creepy blond boyfriend, Michael, that Rahul and Julian had slept together. Michael had ended things with Julian. Julian had clobbered Rahul (a very un-Julian-like thing to do). Rahul then confessed his undying love for Julian and Julian had… run off. Cowardly little prick.

Rahul wasn’t just Julian’s best friend, he was also the most musically talented member of their band -- a band Mel played bass in, mind. Without him, the band would dissolve into nothing and Julian would be left rudderless. He lived for their shite band. Hell, he lived for Rahul. The two of them needed each other like foxes needed bins. This melodramatic love-triangle nonsense was going to make all of their lives positively implode. Well, maybe not Mel’s life. She owned a record shop and she’d be fine. And maybe not Kwambe’s life either. He was too cool to be affected by anything. But definitely Julian and Rahul’s lives, and Mel had sworn, years ago when her and Julian’s mum had started drinking, that she would look out for her empty-headed brother and keep him safe. She’d been fixing his life ever since. She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to fix it this time.

“It ain’t so bad,” Mel told Julian. She nudged him until he peeked out between the fingers he held over his eyes. She extended a cigarette to him. He took it and let her light it for him. It was the most affectionate gesture she’d offered him in quite some time. “One of you could be dead. That’d really be something to cry about.”

He threw her a withering glare with his red-rimmed eyes.

“So, you shagging that Michael bloke, then?”

Julian choked slightly on the smoke in his throat. He’d never told her, in so many words, that he was dating Michael. Michael had just shown up one day, hanging around Julian, while Julian stared at him with the eyes of a boy looking at a bloody Christmas tree. Julian had also never told her he was a bit bent either, but Mel had worked that out on her own, too.

Julian fidgeted with the cigarette butt in his fingers. It was odd to see him… if not embarrassed, then apprehensive. He usually did things like he couldn’t give a shit what others thought, though Mel knew that was a load of horse shite. He acted like he didn’t care, but no one cared more what other people thought than Julian Collier. He’d been caring since they were kids, only he’d gotten better at pretending. The thing is, when you want people to think you’re really cool, you have to get them to think you don’t care what they think. Julian was also obsessed with people thinking he was a little daft. That much was lucky, because, as far as Mel was concerned, he was a little daft.

He nervously pushed his fringe off his forehead only for it to flop back down at an uneven angle. “Yeah. Or, well, I was.”

“He chucked you ‘cause you and Rahul shagged?”

“That sounds like we did it yesterday,” Julian whinged. “It was ages and ages ago. Back at uni. And we were both drunk as you like. It didn’t even count, if you ask me.” Despite himself, he was going quite red around the ears and getting splotchy red patches high on his cheeks. “I’d forgotten all about it. I can’t even believe Rahul remembered. And that he told Michael. Imagine that!”

It was all coming together now. She remembered the trip Julian had taken up North to visit Rahul, only to come back one day early, all jumpy and not wanting to talk about it. Afterward, he’d not seen Rahul for years. Then, when Rahul came back, they were all distant and weird around each other. They’d had a drunken fumble together, of course. For one of them it was just an awkward night that had compromised a friendship. For the other…

“He also told you that he loves you,” Mel reminded him around her cigarette butt.

Julian folded his arms and hunched his shoulders in that way he did when he was stopping himself from covering his ears like he would’ve as a little kid. “Whatever. He’s confused. I dunno. He can’t love me. That’s just mental. He’s my best mate -- he was my best mate. He just thinks he’s in love with me ‘cause he loves me, you know, like friends or whatever. And anyway, that’s the other reason Michael dumped me, you know? He could see Rahul’s all obsessed with me and he didn’t want to get himself in the middle of whatever it is we’ve got going on. He didn’t want to end up like Aisling did. Having rows all the time ‘cause Rahul’s put himself between us.”

Hearing the name of Julian’s ex-girlfriend gave Mel pause. “Were you shagging him when you were still with Aisling?”

Julian dropped his cigarette. He retrieved it before it could burn a hole in the carpet next to the constellation of cigarette burns already there. “No. ‘Course not,” he said defensively in the way he did when he was lying. “I’d never cheat on her, would I?”

“I don’t know,” Mel said. “Would you?”

“I mean -- all right, so I’d started seeing him a bit when we were still together,” Julian immediately capitulated. Mel beamed. So she could still wheedle the truth out of her brother after all. “But we didn’t sleep together or anything. It wasn’t cheating. Not really.” He was imploring as if Mel were the barrister presiding over his case. She was only a curious third party with no stake in the game. So she merely shrugged.

He ran an unhappy hand through his hair, which by now was standing up at all sorts of odd angles. “What am I gonna do?”

“What you’ve gotta do is get your shit together. Both of you. I got a business to run, you know? What am I supposed to do? Sack one of you and hire somebody neither of you ballbags have fucked? And we got a band, or have you forgotten that as well?”

“I thought you hated the band.”

“I do, but I’ve started counting on that extra gig dosh.” It felt good to pay for her grass with money that didn’t come directly from her dead nan’s business. “And you love the damned thing. Are you gonna find yourself a replacement keyboardist slash guitarist who shares your same crazy vision of a dystopian soundscape? Think it’s easy to find one of them? You gonna put an ad out in The Sun?”

“Why don’t you ask Rahul?” Julian cried. “He’s the one who’s gone and cocked everything up! It’s his fault for having feelings -- or thinking he’s got feelings. If he weren’t obsessed with me, he’d have never sabotaged my relationship. If he were following somebody else around like a bleeding puppy, then maybe me and Michael would still be together.”

“That’s it,” Mel said, snapping her fingers in the air.

“What is?” Julian asked dubiously.

“We need to set Rahul up with somebody. Get him to fall in love with somebody else. That way Michael won’t have anything to worry about and the two of you can make up. Then you and Rahul can get back to being mates, and Bob’s your uncle -- everything back to normal.”

Julian’s dubiosity had not dissipated. “You reckon? I dunno.” He made a face somewhere between a sneer and a wince that made it look like he was about to sneeze. “He’s been building his feelings up for me for years, said so himself. I don’t think we can come in with some, erm…”

“Bloke. He is gay, you know.”

“Right -- some bloke -- and think he’ll be all gone on him in two shakes and forget all about me. He thinks he loves me, you know? That’s massive, that is. When someone’s got gangrene, you don’t come in with a plaster and think that’s gonna make it all better.”

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing. You leave it all up to me. I’ll sort it. I always do.” And even though she was wearing her best smug expression, he still had the gall to look less than convinced.

 


About the Author

As a queer, nonbinary, person of color, Nicky Silber has made it their mission to bring diversity into all of their creative outlets. Born in New York, raised in Mexico, they studied fine art in San Francisco and have worked in the video game industry since 2012. They currently live in the wilds of North Carolina with their young son and too many pets. Their only two goals in life are to continue to tell queer love stories and, to a lesser extent, finally knit their own sweater.

 

Contact Links

Nicky’s Website

Nicky on Instagram

Nicky on Threads

Nicky on TikTok

 

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



RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, September 1, 2026

Uprising Book Blitz

 

Uprising
J.E. Rizzo
(Fitzjohn Duology, #1)
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical

England, 1381 AD: Blanche Fitzjohn is an outcast in her small coastal village. Not only is she the illegitimate daughter of John of Gaunt, the man responsible for her neighbors’ over-taxation, but she possesses strange abilities: hearing sound from miles away and smelling people’s emotions.

She takes solace in her studies with the local wisewoman and in her friendship with Geoff, a groom at the local manor. Until the day Henry of Lancaster, Blanche’s half-brother, brings her news of an arranged marriage to Sir Thomas Prescott, Constable of the Tower of London. Although she smells cruelty on him, Blanche agrees to marry Thomas in the hopes that her influence may help better the lives of Geoff and all England’s villeins.

But soon, the peasants’ discontent turns to revolt. Though her heart is of the people, Blanche’s nobility makes her an enemy to the rebels. To save herself and Henry from the executioner’s ax, Blanche must use every power at her disposal, even those she once considered a curse.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

Something shifts, like summer’s green leaves transforming to autumnal gold. Speaking with Geoff about my marriage hurts like I’d never expected, a deep ache. The moon thrums, and an owl, perched in a nearby tree, shifts as she searches for prey. My temples throb.

“It seemed…” he begins again. “It seemed he didn’t want to marry you, after you…” I glare and cross my arms before lifting my face. He continues: “I thought perhaps you could get out of it because…”

“Because of what?”

“Because, ye’re…”

“What, Geoff, what am I?”

His mouth opens like a fish above water, and he doesn’t bother to shut it. In the tree, the owl flaps her wings and leaps into the air.

“Ye’re…” The tips of Geoff’s fingers flutter. “Well, I don’t know what you are, Dandy. Ye’re just…yerself. And I thought—”

“You thought he wouldn’t want me?”

His face falls. “He’s not like you, Dandy. That’s all. He’s not a good man. I heard him talking, when it was just the men…”

He drops his eyes and his cheekbones redden.

Neither of us seems to know what to say next. After a full minute of silence, he lurches forward and grasps my shoulders, crushing me to his chest. “Blanche, just consider.”

I gasp and have to steady myself. But within seconds, tears come to my eyes, along with a calming release of tension. I grip his forearms, inhale his familiar scent. He’s always smelled of horses, with a hint of bread dough and sugar from the manor kitchens he’s constantly raiding. There’s something different tonight. I sniff. It’s crisp, yet soft. Evergreens in winter, covered with fresh snow.

He buries his nose in my hair. “You could refuse,” he says, voice a gentle rumble against my face, “and stay with yer mother. She’d be angry, yes, but she wouldn’t throw you out. They can’t drag you to the church. For a marriage to be real, you must consent.”

Consent. The word ripples through me. It makes me see that I want more, from Maman, from my father, but most of all from Geoff. I need something I can’t identify, something I can’t express.

“If I marry Thomas…” My muffled voice breaks. “It will make the duke happy. He’ll…” I tense, regretting my words.

“He’ll what?”

I can’t answer, can’t tell him that by marrying Sir Thomas, I hope to earn my father’s love. To replace…something.

The moon moves behind a cloud and the trees shift, branches releasing a shower of rain. Geoff drops one hand to the small of my back and lifts the other to my cheek. His palms are warm, and I slide my own to clench his upper arms. When my fingertips brush hardened muscles, I almost snatch my hands back. Before tonight, I still thought of Geoff as a child, the lanky villein who could ride any horse, no matter how fierce. Now…my mouth goes dry, but I can’t resist running my hands up the length of his arms, letting them rest on his shoulders. The skin beneath his tunic is damp with sweat.

Corded muscles tense and stretch beneath my fingers, sending little jolts through me. He stoops, chin brushing my temple.

I touch the notch of his throat with my fingertips. He freezes. Tiny curls of dark hair peek above his collar, tickling my fingers. He lets his face linger on mine, and I feel him inhale.

A pleasant warmth spreads through my belly, then down. Something’s happening, something I don’t understand. I should run, should leave. But I don’t. Another breeze drifts through the tree branches, and he pulls me closer, pressing me to him.

I feel him, all of him, from feet to chin, in a way I never have. A tingling, heavy warmth settles on me, and I feel Geoff’s own need pressing against my belly.

It should make me uncomfortable, but I find myself pressing back, wanting more. Wanting it all.

I’m not well-versed in what happens between a woman and a man—that’s one area of my education Maman neglected—but I’m not completely ignorant. I know Geoff and I stand on a cliff, gazing into a deep ravine. One more step, and we’ll both be lost.

I’m still touching his throat, suspended in our odd dance beneath the shuddering tree branches, when he bends further. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation of his stubbly chin against my face. He exhales, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Dandy…” he murmurs.

The owl swoops to snatch a mouse from the forest floor in sharp talons. Her screech is like a battle horn, ricocheting with painful deliberation in my skull, joined by the mouse’s squeal. My eyelids snap open and I step out of his embrace.

Author Bio:

J.E. Rizzo is a life-long history fanatic and writer of historical fiction whose work can be found in Vanity Fair, The Boston Globe, The Guardian, The Tudor Times, Tudor Life Magazine, Scary Mommy, and Ultrarunning Magazine. Additionally, her article, Past and Precedence: Abortion Law in the Middle Ages and Its Use to Overturn Roe v. Wade, won History Inquiry’s Medieval History Writing Challenge. Rizzo’s debut novel, Uprising, Book One of the Fitzjohn Duology, is forthcoming from Literary Wanderlust, and tells the story of Blanche Fitzjohn, a fourteenth century neurodivergent woman whose perceived disabilities become superpowers during England’s peasant uprising of 1381.

By day, Rizzo works in Human Resources—a field offering more than ample opportunity to observe the follies and fancies of humankind. Before her career in HR, Rizzo worked as an opera singer, a professional baker, and a dog walker. These days, when not writing she can be found running ultramarathons through the forests and mountains of New England, knitting, reading, sewing, baking, or performing any number of (what some might call) old-lady hobbies. She also keeps busing caring for her two children and forty-seven houseplants, making her husband carry heavy things and cook her gourmet meals, and rehabilitating her rescue dog and semi-feral ginger cat.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / X


GIVEAWAY!

Uprising Blitz


Love Next Door Book Blitz

 



Love Next Door: A ‘90s Anthem Duet
Eve Kasey & Melanie A. Smith
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

One volume, two steamy interconnected romances set in 1995 Seattle

Come to My Window
Hazel Bell has lost everything — her job, her apartment, and her future in Seattle. Now her whole world is a thrift-store wardrobe, a family of houseplants, and a stranger in the opposite window who knows exactly what to say.

They exchange notes instead of names. Confessions instead of introductions. And somehow, the man she’s never met becomes the one person she can’t live without.

Gideon Sarkis knows the truth would end them before they ever begin.

He knows exactly who Hazel is. But she doesn’t know him — or how badly he once hurt her. The more notes they write, the harder he falls. But with his obligations pressing in and her options disappearing, their time is running out.

Some windows are meant to be opened.

But some secrets can shatter everything.

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door
Ben Pedersen is a ghostwriter stuck crafting someone else’s thrillers when a misdelivered package introduces him to the mystery of unit 203 — and its elusive occupant, Heaven Lee.

Lee is a software engineer burning the candle at every possible end, helping build one of the first online bookstores. She doesn’t have time for nosy neighbors. She barely has time for sleep. But the guy upstairs keeps getting her mail, and he’s funny, patient, and her dog likes him more than the UPS guy. So maybe one coffee not-date won’t kill her.

The neighborly arrangement that follows becomes something neither of them planned. But Lee won’t admit what’s in the misdelivered packages, and Ben’s writer brain won’t let a mystery rest. When curiosity crosses a line, both must decide what matters more: protecting their secrets or fighting for what they’ve found.

Love Next Door is two warm, witty nostalgic love stories about the secrets we keep, the walls we build, and the people worth tearing them down for.

Goodreads / Purchase





Hazel is parked in a chair in front of her window, arms around her knees as if she needs the extra support. Our gazes collide across the space between us. Even with the tiny smile she offers, she looks small and lonely, and it breaks my heart.

There is no note. Just her.

After a long moment in which we just share space, she unwinds her arms and turns to her kitchen table. Her hair falls across her face as she scribbles out a note. I watch as she tucks long locks behind her ear, and wish it’s my fingers instead.

Coffee shop? her note says. She’s drawn a steaming mug beside the words.

I nod.

And wait.

Her next note is unexpected. I saw you at the grocery store yesterday.

My stomach flips. Seriously? In the same building twice in as many days? I wonder how often that’s happened without our knowledge. Maybe we’ve been circling around each other for months, just out of reach.

And? She’d seen me and done nothing about it. Why?

A bit of her sparkle returns as she shares a small, sly smile. And I still think you’re incredibly handsome.

I chuckle softly, but I won’t let her slide. Talk to me, Picasso.

Her smile fades. Nodding, she turns her attention back to her art supplies. Her words against the glass are navy blue and stark. It’s been an invisible day. Ever feel invisible?

I don’t. My size and coloring make me stand out. I’ve never felt invisible, but I’ve never truly felt seen, either. Not until eye contact with my neighbor was all I had.

I shake my head before bending down to write the next note. I may not have seen you, but I see you. I make the last three words bold, going over the letters several times. Then I make a second sign. You shine, Hazel. Even in the dark.

Thank you, she doodles out, including leaves and buds around the letters. Then another. You have a way of helping me heal. A broken heart held together by stitches.

“Killing me, Picasso,” I breathe. That is the greatest compliment she can give me, especially knowing what I do.

You get me through the day, Hazel. Even before I knew you, you were the reason I smiled.

She puts her hand on her heart, and I swear I feel myself fall.

Smiling, Hazel writes another note and holds it up to the window. Do I get to know your name?

With those words, I hit the earth.

I refuse to let my panic show on my face. Thinking quickly, I scrawl out a desperate reply. If you’ve named all your plants, I know you’ve named me, too. What do you call me?

She visibly cringes, and heaves an exaggerated sigh I can see across the alley and holds her confession up to the window.

Fred.

I blink. As in Flintstone? Why?

Hazel is slow to reply, but I don’t mind because I have her pursed lips and another peek of her clavicle to focus on. Because you’re too sexy for your shirt.

It takes a few seconds to process her words. Then I burst out laughing, harder than I have in weeks. Not Flintstone, then. Right Said Fred. The guy with the truly obnoxious song.

Still chuckling, I glance down at my exposed abs, loving that she appreciates my hard work, loving even more that “too sexy” is how she thinks of me.

Despite the crazy day, despite the secret I’m holding in my heart, I make sure that Hazel knows that the feeling is mutual.

I let desire take over every part of me, slowly, like a trickle of light rain. I allow heat into my gaze. Leaning forward on the shelf, I let my muscles pop and eyes roam. I take her in as I share my more lascivious thoughts through body language.

For her, I strip myself bare, deeper than flesh. I stop hiding how I see her. And I drink down what I witness across the way.

A flower opening in the sun.





Eve Kasey writes for a design firm by day and reads (and writes!) indie romance novels by night. Her contemporary romances balance swoon and steam while aiming to teach readers something new. She loves romance for the hope the genre conveys as well as the amplification of the simple truth that everyone everywhere deserves a happily ever after - however that looks to them. Eve lives in and loves the Pacific Northwest.
Melanie A. Smith is an award-winning, international best-selling author of steamy romance with smart, self-sufficient heroines and strong, swoony book boyfriends with hearts of gold. A former engineer turned stay-at-home mom and author, when Melanie is not lost in the world of books you’ll find her spending time with her husband and son, crafting, or cross-stitching.







Love Next Door: A ‘90s Anthem Duet Blitz





Silver Bells, Single Bed Blitz

 

Silver Bells, Single Bed
Paula Dombrowiak
(Hollow Reign, #2)
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

My bandmate’s little sister is off-limits.

Then a Christmas blizzard traps us together in Chicago with only one bed.

After months on tour, all I want is to get home for Christmas. Instead, a winter storm strands me in Chicago with Harper Beaumont, a rising ballet star with everything on the line, including the lead role in her company’s production of The Nutcracker.

With both our flights canceled and Harper watching her dream disappear, I do the one thing I absolutely shouldn’t do—convince her to experience the Christmas magic of Chicago.

Somewhere between sparkling lights, one forbidden kiss, and a snow-covered city, Harper stops being my bandmate’s little sister…

and becomes the woman I can’t stop wanting.

When the only hotel room left has one bed, resisting her becomes impossible, sspecially when she asks me to be her first.

One night with Harper is hot enough to melt the Christmas snow but when morning comes and my bandmate finds out I crossed the line with his sister…

I have to decide if I’m brave enough to risk everything for the woman I was never supposed to have.

Silver Bells, Single Bed is Book 2 in the Hollow Reign Christmas Novellas—a series of interconnected, steamy holiday romances that can be read in any order.

Goodreads / Purchase

EXCERPT:

“So,” she says. “Small problem.”

I cannot fathom any problem bigger than the one that’s currently happening in my pants at the sight of her.

“I don’t have anything to sleep in.” She wiggles the bag helplessly. “I didn’t exactly pack for two overnights. Everything in here is dance clothes. I can sleep in this, I guess.” She shakes her head and sets the bag down on the chair.

Jesus fuck, the universe is loving me today.

“You can’t sleep in your clothes.”

“Well, I think sleeping naked is out of the question,” she says, and I swear she’s not as innocent as she seems.

I clear my throat. “That’s not…” I dig through my duffel bag until I find a Hollow Reign concert t-shirt and hold it out to her. “Here. You can sleep in this.”

She hesitates a beat.

“It’s clean, I promise.”

Her fingers brush mine, small and soft as she takes it and brings it up to her nose. “Smells like you,” she smiles and then disappears back into the bathroom.

Fuck, get yourself together, Rhodes.

What would Casey do if he knew I was in a hotel room with his little sister right now, and that she was wearing my t-shirt? I press my forehead against the cold glass window and try to think about anything—my drum kit, my mom’s tamales, the tempo count on the new single, anything that isn’t Harper Beaumont pulling her sweater off on the other side of that door.

And I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her as she walks out of the bathroom wearing my shirt. Every coherent thought in my brain evaporates.

The neckline slips off one shoulder, and the hem hits the tops of her thighs, revealing soft, smooth legs. She pads over to her bag and stuffs her clothes inside.

“It’s a little big,” she says, pulling on the hem.

I swallow hard.

“Jesus, Harper,” I say, my voice rough. “Are you not wearing a bra?”

She looks down at herself, genuinely confused, then back up at me. “Of course not.” She shakes her head like that’s the stupidest question in the world. “It’s not comfortable to sleep in. Get over it.”

Get over it?

She says it the way another girl would say pass the salt. Like she has no idea what she’s doing to me. Like she hasn’t just rearranged the entire chemistry of the room by walking out of a bathroom in my shirt, her nipples visible through the material.

I scrub a hand down my face.

I grab a pillow off the bed and carry it to the armchair by the window. “I’ll take the chair. You take the bed.”

“Liam, that chair isn’t big enough for you to sleep in.”

“I’ll manage.”

She crosses to the bed and lies down on her side, propped up on one elbow, watching me with an expression I can’t read. The t-shirt rides up her thigh, and I swear to God I catch the edge of lace and the curve of her hip underneath before I have to physically drag my eyes off her.

I rearrange the pillow, trying to smash it into submission.

“Liam,” she says, getting my attention. She’s resting her cheek on her hand. Her hair is spilling across the white pillow, and she looks like a fucking wet dream. “Do you not feel safe in the bed with me?”

Author Bio:

Paula Dombrowiak grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois but currently lives in Arizona. She is the author of Blood and Bone, her first adult romance novel which combines her love of music and imperfect relationships. Paula is a lifelong music junkie, whose wardrobe consists of band T-shirts and leggings which are perpetually covered in pet hair. She is a sucker for a redeemable villain, bad boys, and the tragically flawed. Music inspires her storytelling.

For more ways to learn about Paula and her books, check out her website: @www.pauladombrowiak.com

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Newsletter / Facebook Group / Facebook Page / Bookbub / TikTok








Silver Bells, Single Bed Blitz


Dragon Descending Book Blitz

 

Dragon Descending
Jennifer Allis Provost
(Fire and Claw, #2)
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

Dragons value family above all else—but when a dragon shifter can’t shift, how will he protect the ones he loves?

Lochlyn Blackmoor, the last dragon shifter in Alessia, has lost his ability to shift. Heartened by a prediction that he will shift again, Lochlyn retreats to Dragon Ridge with his beloved wife, Rosalie. They’re content to enjoy a quiet life, until they receive unsettling news from the capital city.

The king’s seer has been marked for death, all because she helped him free Rosalie’s sister from the king’s clutches.

Despite his current weakness, Lochlyn embarks on a mission to rescue the seer with his brother-in-law and spymaster in tow. Almost immediately, one of their few allies—Arthus Flameborn, Grand Master of the Order of the Phoenix, who also happens to be Rosalie’s grandfather—abandons them. As they run out of time and options, Lochlyn turns to a former foe for assistance: Basilisk, the same rogue shifter he freed from the Order’s dungeon, and nearly killed him.

Basilisk proves himself a worthy ally, and his vast knowledge Alessia’s royal family comes in handy more than once. As more of Basilisk’s past is revealed, Lochlyn learns Alessia’s darkest, most dangerous secret, information so deadly It could unravel everything he’s ever known. To make matters worse, the ruthless Grand Master wants to form a relationship with his granddaughter, Rosalie, and he doesn’t care who he hurts in the process—not even Rosalie.

And only a dragon can overpower the Grand Master.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo


Lochlyn Blackmoor hated waiting.

Yet it was all he’d done for months—waiting for blowback from Serpens about their daring rescue of Caterina and Curran. For news of the rampaging basilisk he and Curran had freed from the palace dungeons. Or for the Grand Master to appear in the courtyard demanding to see his family.

Waiting to be able to shift again.

Nothing happened.

Lochlyn set his hands on the balcony’s railing, and watched the early morning activity in the castle’s courtyard. While he appreciated the calm days and nights they’d enjoyed at Dragon Ridge, retribution was inevitable. He’d insulted the king, committed several acts of treason, and set the palace on fire. King Olivar wasn’t a forgiving man; he was more likely to take Lochlyn’s head and mount it on his wall.

Still. Nothing.

Perhaps Olivar was taking his time so Lochlyn would slowly descend into madness.

Laughter floated toward him, a bright sound that Lochlyn would know anywhere. He turned toward the gardens, and saw Rosalie walking with her sister, Caterina. They both carried baskets of flowers, but behind Rosalie’s basket was her rounded belly, and inside her belly was their child.

Their child’s birth was something else Lochlyn was waiting for, and for that he was most impatient of all.

He and Rosalie already had three adopted children, and he loved them and his nephew, Jonathan, dearly. Somehow, he found yet another measure of love in his heart for this child he’d yet to meet, a babe who would be a dragon, like him.

As the strongest of the Otherworldly creatures, Lochlyn’s own dragon blood meant the child would definitely take after him, but they wouldn’t know if the child would be able to shift until he was around a year old. While Lochlyn could attain both dragon and warrior forms, his eldest brother could only shift to warrior, and his middle brothers couldn’t shift at all.

Whether the child could shift or not didn’t matter to Lochlyn. Either way, he couldn’t wait to meet their baby. Before Rosalie fell pregnant, Lochlyn had been the last living dragon in Alessia. Now both his kind and his name would live on, thanks to his beautiful wife.

“Lochlyn,” Rosalie called from the courtyard, waving to get his attention as if he hadn’t already been entranced by her every move. “There were some daisies in bloom, and the birds spared us some blackberries.”

“And elderberries,” Caterina added, holding up her basket. “Madchen can make more of her famous wine.”

Lochlyn laughed softly; there were enough casks of Madchen’s elderberry wine in the castle’s cellar to get half of Alessia drunk. “Are you two coming in for lunch?”

Rosalie opened her mouth to reply, but whatever she said was drowned out by the thunder of a dozen hooves. Lochlyn looked toward the gate and saw three gigantic stags enter the courtyard. The central and largest stag approached Rosalie and bowed.

“Hello, Cervus,” Rosalie said as the stag’s antlers scraped the ground near her feet. “And you really don’t need to be so dramatic. Will you join us for lunch?”

Cervus raised his head, and after he glanced at the balcony, he and his two companions went toward the stables. Lochlyn watched them depart, then he returned his gaze to his wife. His leisurely afternoon with Rosalie would have to wait. As Lochlyn’s spymaster, Cervus had been in Serpens for the past three weeks, gathering information. For him to personally return to Dragon Ridge instead of sending one of his messengers, he must have learned something especially dire.


Jennifer Allis Provost writes books about faeries, orcs and elves. Zombies, too. She grew up in the wilds of Western Massachusetts and had read every book in the local library by age twelve. (It was a small library.) An early love of mythology and folklore led to her romantic fantasy series, Fire and Claw, and her degree in environmental science helped shape her urban fantasy, Poison Garden. When she’s not writing about murderous plants or sexy dragon shifters she’s working on her MFA in Creative Nonfiction.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Newsletter











Dragon Descending Blitz