Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: The Alchemist of All Hallows Eve (Accidental Alchemist Mystery, #10) by Gigi Pandian

THE ALCHEMIST OF ALL HALLOWS EVE

by Gigi Pandian

September 7 - October 2, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

AN ACCIDENTAL ALCHEMIST MYSTERY

 

An eternally young alchemist. A gargoyle who fancies himself Poirot. A Murder House for sale the week before Halloween.

Zoe Faust has run from her past for centuries. She didn't plan on settling down. She didn't plan on falling for a mortal man. She certainly didn't plan on the gargoyle.

Now Zoe, her fiancé, and her French chef gargoyle best friend Dorian have found an enchanting home with a hidden cottage for Dorian. It’s perfect for their little family. Except for one thing. Forty years ago, the night before Halloween, a woman was murdered in their dream house. Or was she?

When an enigmatic stranger arrives and insists that a mythological Irish witch holds the secret to the unsolved crime, Halloween turns deadly once more. Refusing to let Zoe lose the home she's waited centuries for, Dorian the gargoyle sets out to crack the case.

Can an alchemist, a gargoyle, and a teashop-owning detective solve two Halloween murders before an innocent man takes the fall and their perfect home slips away?

The Alchemist of All Hallows Eve is the whimsical tenth book in USA Today bestselling author Gigi Pandian's Anthony Award-winning Accidental Alchemist mystery series. If you love cozy fantasy, Agatha Christie-style whodunits, and found family, you'll adore this charming Halloween mystery, complete with Irish fortune-telling recipes.

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery, Cozy Fantasy Mystery, Culinary Cozy
Published by: Gargoyle Girl Productions
Publication Date: September 8, 2026
Number of Pages: 288
ISBN: 978-1938213373
Series: The Accidental Alchemist Mystery Series, Book 10 | Each is a Stand Alone
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

I dashed through the wrought iron gate that stood open, the misty rain leaving nearly invisible droplets on my silver raincoat as I made my way to the house. Ivy tendrils wound their way around the curved black iron of the gate and fence, hiding the wires of electric candles that illuminated the yard with a warm glow.

By the time I took my first step on the stone path, I already knew. The house was perfect.

A perfect family home. I blinked back tears. What an astonishing idea, after so many decades living on the road. On my own. On the run. Never staying in one place for long. Never imagining I could have something more. The last two years in a fixer-upper were two of the best years in my life, still on my own but tentatively testing the idea of putting down roots. All the joys and trials of these last two years had led to this moment. Finding a home for me and Max. For the start of a new life together.

A twenty-foot Malus domestica tree towered above me, bringing me to a halt when I should have been rushing inside to see if I’d made it in time. The apple tree’s green and yellow leaves shielded smooth branches brimming with red-gold apples ripe enough to pick. I ran my fingertips across the smooth bark and crouched to touch the spot where the trunk met soil. Gnarled roots peeking out of the earth told me the tree’s advanced age, but it was thriving. The person who tended to this tree truly cared for it. As I would.

A bright yellow door, only three inches high, rested at the base of the tree. It was a fairy door, inviting anyone who took the time to notice it to imagine a portal to the fairy realm. I wondered if the whimsical doorway was there year-round or only because it was the week before Halloween. Behind the tree, crimson delphinium flowers were blooming. Red was a rare color for the flower, and it was late in the year for the spire-like stems to bloom. They, too, had been well tended.

As curious as I was about the person who attended to this landscape, I didn’t have time to speculate. I stood and hurried on.

Old-fashioned lanterns lit the stone steps leading to the covered porch. Two massive copper owls flanked the front door, one guarding a carved pumpkin, the other an autumn vegetable I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen: a mangelwurzel. I’ve celebrated many types of Halloween traditions over the years, so I recognized the root vegetable that had been popular for Halloween carvings over a century ago in Britain and Ireland. These decorations weren’t plastic toys from a modern manufacturer, but talismans that harkened back to celebrations of the autumn harvest—and the idea that October 31 was a night when the veil between worlds of the living and the dead was thin.

I smiled at the mangelwurzel’s grotesque grinning face, wondering how a modern-day homeowner in Portland, Oregon had stumbled across the tradition of carving creepy faces into the lumpy root related to a beet.

But I didn’t have time to linger outside and wonder.

I was lucky that nobody had put in an offer on the house while I was away last week, since the housing market was so tight these days. Today, I’d hoped to arrive right when the open house began, but it was such a busy afternoon at Max’s new shop that he couldn’t get away. We decided I should go on ahead. Still, it was already twenty minutes past the hour when the showing began.

And yet, the squeaky door of my old 1942 pickup truck was the loudest sound I’d heard since arriving. Instead of a rush of other eager homebuyers, the inviting yard was deserted. No kids were exploring the whimsical décor. No voices could be heard coming from inside the house, but perhaps the walls were thick?

The old home was beautiful and the listing price far lower than expected. Why was I the only potential buyer here?

The front door stood open, and as I stepped inside a tall woman in a cream-colored pantsuit greeted me.

“Zoe?”

I nodded and took her outstretched hand.

“Simone Friday,” she said, ushering me into the cozy foyer of the house. “Congratulations again on your engagement. This is a wonderful home to begin a new life together.”

I touched my malachite engagement ring. The green stone was the most perfect embodiment of Max’s and my love for each other. Malachite, the stone of transformation.

“What a stunning ring.” The real estate agent pulled her gaze from my ring finger and craned her thin neck to look around me. “Is Max still in the car?”

She had no idea how unique the ring truly was. Not that I could ever tell her.

“Max is running a little late,” I explained, hoping that wouldn’t make us look irresponsible if the owner was making a decision between multiple interested buyers. This housing market was brutal, and homes around here were being snatched up as soon as they hit the market. The agent Max had found us hadn’t suggested this house. I’d found it while browsing.

I’d reached out to the seller’s agent ahead of time to make sure the low list price wasn’t a mistake. She told me the owner needed to sell on an expedited timeline, prioritizing a buyer who could close quickly. He’d had a bad fall and was currently recovering in the hospital, hoping to move into a retirement community as soon as possible since he could no longer handle living alone in this big, multi-story house.

Looking out the front window, I smiled as I spotted even more autumn decorations I hadn’t noticed on my way in. Sheltered on the covered porch, an owl made from a pinecone and acorns sat next to a trio of gourds with silly painted faces. With this type of creativity, wherever the owner ended up, I had a feeling he’d be just fine.

“You’re an outdoorsy person,” Simone said. “I can tell. You’re in for a treat. I’ve been doing this for decades and believe me, this place is quite a find.”

I continued through the house, enjoying the solid wood paneling and cozy nooks that included a built-in window seat in the main bedroom. The back garden included a small kitchen garden, bountiful flowers, and even more fruit trees. Three types of apples, plus two each of cherry, plum, pear, and fig trees, making a full dozen. The Spartan apple tree’s ripe apples hung unpicked, but I was more worried by its thin branches, which were drooping from more than the weight of the fruit. When I was a young woman helping with farmland that included a nearby orchard with apple and pear trees, I would have immediately known what was wrong. Was I losing my edge? What did the tree need?

“Zoe?” The agent’s voice shook me out of the memory.

I’m Zoe Faust, born in 1676, in Salem Village in what’s now Massachusetts, a hundred years before the Declaration of Independence was signed. My natural aptitude with plants led to my being accused of being a witch, and later being taken under the wing of famed alchemist Nicolas Flamel. Under his tutelage, I learned the principles of alchemy, which led to my accidentally discovering the Elixir of Life. When I said I’d celebrated many types of Halloween traditions, I wasn’t kidding.

“Ready to look at the guest house?” Simone asked.

She led me through the backyard to a small cottage almost entirely hidden by trees.

“Designed for someone who loves to cook, as you can tell!” she said as we stepped inside. “Take your time out here. I’ll be in the front section of the main house to greet others.”

She wasn’t kidding about the layout. Two-thirds of the little home’s open floorplan was taken up by a massive kitchen. The style was a bit dated, but for the one who would be using the space, it was functionality that mattered. Max and I needed a home of our own, but we couldn’t abandon our friend Dorian. It would be impossible for him to live on his own. And as a chef, he would love this space.

I stepped back outside into the miniature orchard. Everything about this place was perfect. Too perfect, the nervous part of my brain chimed in. The part of my brain that had kept me safe for centuries. That had kept me moving, avoiding being detected as an alchemist. But this house… I knew this was where I was meant to be. Where we were meant to be.

I rooted through my bag for my phone. It took Max four rings to answer.

“Zoe, is everything—”

“It’s perfect. So perfect. How soon can you get here?”

“I had no idea how wild weekend crowds could be. I don’t know if I can—”

“You’re at the register?” I imagined him ringing up the customers lined up at his cozy shop, The Alchemy of Tea, with a smile on his handsome face as he told people about how best to brew his custom tea blends or use the various styles of teapots he stocked.

“I stepped outside to take your call.”

“Mary can handle the register on her own. She did it beautifully while you were away. Truly. You need to see this place today. What if someone else puts in an offer that’s accepted? As soon as you see it in person, you’ll understand why it’s so special.”

“Do you know,” he chuckled, “it’s impossible to say no to you, Zoe Faust.”

Max arrived ten minutes later and found me in the backyard’s mini orchard, where I was trying to figure out what was afflicting the ailing apple tree.

I threw my arms around him. “I thought you were going to call me when you arrived. Did you see the house?”

Max didn’t answer immediately. More than that, his shoulders were stiff. And he wasn’t hugging me back. As I pulled away, expecting terrible news, only then did I see the look of worry on his face.

My own smile drained away. “Someone else got the house?”

“I doubt it.” He looked past me towards the house.

“What’s going on?” I followed his gaze. What was I missing?

“This is Rufus Hitchcock’s house.”

“You know the owner? It’s not on the listing—”

He groaned. “It wouldn’t be. But I know the house. You really don’t know the name?”

“Why would I?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t look more closely at the listing, or I would have spotted it. I’ve just been so busy—”

“Max. If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, my head is going to explode like an overheated cucurbit. What could possibly be wrong with our dream house that we can’t fix?” Whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn’t need too much money. This is embarrassing for an alchemist to admit, but I’m wretched at making gold.

“It’s not fixable.” Max looked forlornly at the perfect house. “I wish it was… but—”

“Max.”

He turned back to me and shook his head. “Rufus Hitchcock is a murderer, Zoe. He killed his girlfriend in this house forty years ago, and strange things have been happening here ever since. That’s why nobody else wants this house.”

***

Excerpt from The Alchemist of All Hallows Eve by Gigi Pandian. Copyright 2026 by Gigi Pandian. Reproduced with permission from Gigi Pandian. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Gigi Pandian is a USA Today bestselling mystery author, locked-room mystery enthusiast, and fan of exploring ruined castles in the rain. She’s been awarded Agatha, Anthony, Lefty, and Derringer awards, and been a finalist for the Edgar. She writes the Accidental Alchemist mysteries (humorous cozy fantasy mysteries), the Secret Staircase mysteries (locked-room mysteries called “wildly entertaining” by the New York Times), and the Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt mysteries (lighthearted adventures steeped in history). Gigi lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and a gargoyle who watches over the backyard garden. For bookish fun plus a free story and free mini cookbook, sign up for her email newsletter at www.gigipandian.com.

Catch Up With Gigi Pandian:

www.GigiPandian.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads - @gigipandian
BookBub - @GigiPandian
Instagram - @gigipandian
Facebook - @GigiPandian

 

Tour Participants:

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THE ALCHEMIST OF ALL HALLOWS EVE by Gigi Pandian | Gift Card

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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Main Street Fringe by Matthew Lavoie

MAIN STREET FRINGE

by Matthew Lavoie

August 31 - September 25, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Detective Theo Barnes thinks he has the world figured out, though he knows it's a fixed game. Do your job well. Protect your family. Steer clear of the system.

Until his sting operation brings down a powerful state Senator. Doing the right thing thrusts him over a line that can't be crossed, and the system bites back, hard.

His career… over. Reputation… obliterated. The truth… beyond reach.

Amidst the rubble, a clandestine cabal of conspiracy fanatics hellbent on annihilating the “true power” behind America anoints Barnes as a symbol of their own plight. They think Barnes is one of them, abused by society and martyred by the Deep State.

The FBI is incapable of infiltrating these zealots and they turn to Barnes for help. Desperate for answers and redemption, he reluctantly agrees to go undercover, using the most dangerous identity possible... his own.

As real life and the investigation blur, Barnes’ impossible choices drag his family into the crosshairs. Every move, every word, contains unspeakable danger. As the cabal’s atrocities collide with the conspiracy that destroyed him, he must separate lies from truth, or he won't survive.

His quest for salvation rests on one question. Is there enough of his soul left intact to save not only his family, but the country?

Praise for Main Street Fringe:

"MAIN STREET FRINGE had me in its grip from the opening pages and never let go. A timely take on political culture in this country, Lavoie has used his D.C. background to write a twisty thriller that crackles with authenticity. Don’t miss this stellar debut."
~ Joshua Moehling, USA TODAY bestselling author of AND THERE HE KEPT HER and A LONG TIME GONE

"Embroiled in conspiracy and betrayal, this sharp paced thriller climaxes when brotherhood reaches a bitter and fatal flashpoint and two worlds collide into one. Engrossing and timely."
~ David Swinson, author of The Second Girl

"MAIN STREET FRINGE is a deep and thrilling dive into the dark heart of the current political climate—made all the more terrifying by Matthew Lavoie's experience in Washington. This guy knows what he's talking about, he knows where the bodies are buried... and that makes this a must-read."
~ Rob Hart, USA TODAY bestselling author of The Warehouse and the Assassins Anonymous series

"MAIN STREET FRINGE serves up a sumptuous and scintillating smorgasbord of action and intrigue set against a conspiracy-fueled landscape populated by villains for whom reality is a relative term. Matthew Lavoie has crafted one of those rare thrillers that challenges our sensibilities and makes us think at the same time, shading his tapestry in gray tones in which even the good guys wade in and out of their own moral quagmires. A blistering, bracing bombshell of a tale and major debut in the thriller genre."
~ Jon Land, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

"One man’s patriot is another’s radical, and the line between the two blur in Matthew Lavoie’s crackling debut thriller. MAIN STREET FRINGE is an adrenaline-fueled joyride that won’t let you loose until the gut-check of a conclusion."
~ James L’Etoile, award-winning author of RIVER OF LIES and the Detective Nathan Parker series

Book Details:

Genre: Political Thriller
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 1, 2026
Number of Pages: 381
ISBN: 979-8898203351
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

Chapter Two

Detective Theo Barnes lit a smoke, a rare allowance to tamp down the adrenaline. His brain buzzed as the nicotine hit all the right spots while watching a squad car containing Andrews drive away. He texted his wife, reminding her today would run long. A few cases ago he’d forgotten and caught hell for missing dinner. Rayna was sexy when she was angry, but it wasn’t worth missing sleep to stay up arguing.

Once he hit the filter, he’d oversee the bag and tag efforts at the scene and head to the Charlottesville county jail for the interrogation. Raids of Andrews’ home and Senate office were executed simultaneously. The limitations of being in one place at a time drove him nuts. He inherently trusted his team of Virginia State Troopers. Just not as much as himself.

He had always been this way. Those aware of his origins don’t blame him. His unyielding dedication compounded as he aged, particularly in the four years since he’d taken over the Internet Sex Crimes Division. Convictions hang on the smallest detail. Considering how far he’d stuck his neck out, he’d be hip deep in every aspect of the investigation until prison doors slammed shut on Senator Andrews.

“You ever think about the irony of a sex crimes investigator who needs a cigarette after every bust?” said the blonde as she approached. Among many contributions, Shannon Williamson served as Barnes’ lure for the stings.

“Funny. Here I was concerned about Rayna raking me over the coals and you gotta toss in some Freudian shit to boot.” Defiantly, Barnes took one last deep drag and flicked the butt into the motel parking lot.

Barnes knew he’d hit the jackpot having her on the squad. A rising star at the FBI out of college, promoted early and often, she’d made it as a profiler. Then came her father’s stroke. Her mom passed on when she was in elementary school. With no caregiver, she came home to Charlottesville, signing on with the Troopers once he’d recovered.

“Deep psychological analysis of your soul is why you pay me so large.” She glanced up at him. “No matter how many times we do this, I’m always surprised at how much they cry. Between you and me, it’s my favorite part with these scumbags.”

“He thought you were fourteen and he got me instead. Your pigtails in those pictures sold it. Sorry you’re always the worm on the hook for these, but, well—” He shrugged.

“I’m thirty-five but look like jailbait. I don’t mind. I like the field action. But you’ll need to recruit a new carrot for these sickos. I won’t fit what they’re looking for much longer.”

Her hand rested on her stomach as she exaggerated a baby bump.

“Really? That’s great! You and Rick must be over the moon.”

“It’s a seesaw between thrilled and freaking out. Need you to keep me

level since you’re the parenting expert. I do wonder about the world I’m bringing the kid into.”

“One with another predator off the street. And as far as parenting goes, Rayna does the heavy lifting with the boys. I come off the bench to give her a breather. When are you due?”

“Thanksgiving. You’ve got me six more months, but don’t go giving my job away. I’m coming back.”

“Don’t know what I’d do without you anyways. Let’s make sure everything is tight as a drum. I can’t wait to sit across the table from this asshole.”

* * *

Barnes, having shed motel customer garb for a shave, suit, and tie, watched the shackled State Senator Andrews shuffle into interrogation. Of all the post-sting grillings, he can’t recall a suspect this calm. Andrews’ light, self-satisfied smile suggested a guy up for a promotion inside The tears he’d shed were a distant memory.

“You’re wasting your time. I’m not talking without my lawyer,” Andrews said.

Barnes reflexively clenched his fist. He paused before plowing ahead with the time-tested approach. “I understand why you’d want your lawyer. This is the worst day of your life. We’ve got you dead to rights. I’ll even allow that you’re sorry. I know you’re scared. We have chat transcripts of your conversations with the girl, the way you groomed her. All of it directly traceable to you.”

Despite his previous statement, Andrews can’t allow the challenge. “Maybe I don’t even need a lawyer. This is a set-up. It’s fake news. Nothing happened. In fact, she’s the one who led me on.”

Barnes shook his head and smiled. This revelation was his favorite part. “Actually, Senator, I was the one leading you on. But we both know you did the grooming.”

The initial review of Andrew’s home and office computers had returned zilch. Andrews couldn’t possibly know this. His slimy bullshit sourced elsewhere.

“I can prove that you thought she was fourteen and intended to have sex with her. When we parade the things you brought to the motel in front of a jury, the sex toys, the lube, and most damning, your secret video camera, they won’t buy your excuses. You know, people like you tend to have a rough go in prison.”

Andrews’ breathing hitched. Some of his cocky attitude faded. His head shook involuntarily. Barnes stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, you’ll be ok. Can we get him something to drink here?” The guard brought a bottle of water.

Andrews drank and tried breathing deep. Barnes returned to his seat. “There’s no turning back the clock here. But if you help me, you’ll make things easier for yourself when you go before judge and jury. I can be a friend.”

Andrews snorted. “How kind. That was my first thought, this guy is my friend. Trust me, I’ve already got the right friends.”

Maintaining the good cop persona grew increasingly harder. “You’ve got one chance to help yourself and you’re blowing it. Confess, save us the trouble of a trial. How’d you locate those sites and chatrooms? They don’t pop up in a Google search. Come clean. Maybe we can close a loophole. You throw us that info and I’ll see that it earns points with the judge and the

District Attorney.”

“I have something to offer people much higher on the food chain than the local D.A. Prison isn’t in my future.” Andrews leaned back in his chair. “Lawyer, now.”

Now Andrews got the uncompromising Barnes, who’d walked through fire to get here. “Fine, lawyer up, but let me tell you this. There are a few ironclads in this life. Don’t mess with the church’s money, don’t piss off people who handle your food, and don’t ever, and I mean ever, threaten children. Even if you think prison’s not in your future, jail most definitely is.

You’re spending tonight in County’s general population and I swear every last inmate will know why. Sleep tight.”

Barnes trusted Andrews’ the worst visions were his best ally. He’d turned

the doorknob when he heard a sigh of resignation.

“Wait. I might know a few things. Maybe a couple of names. But then I want my lawyer. You swear to keep the animals away?”

“For the next few days,” Barnes pushed a pen and paper across the table.

* * *

Captain Butch Holland, Barnes’ commanding officer, stewed behind the two-way mirror. His bushy mustache resembled a walrus, matching his bulk. His police hat covered up his hair’s disappearing act. Vanity wasn’t quite enough to get him on a treadmill though. As Barnes entered the room, Holland’s face flushed, and he opened at peak volume.

“Happy? I ordered you, very clearly, not to pursue this. But you know better than everyone and look where we are. No confession, half a case, and a big pile of shit.”

Barnes eyed Holland with disdain. “I know better than you. We’ve got him because I do my job. You worry about kissing ass upstairs. I don’t give a shit if it’s a state Senator, an ambassador, or the goddamn President. He’s garbage and he’s going down.”

Holland had tabled his retirement, desperately hanging on to walk with a Major’s pension. He bristled at the accurate insinuation that he played the political game.

“You’ve got the Governor’s office breathing fire and I’m not taking heat for you.”

Sure, Barnes thought. The only thing you take is credit. He’d spent a lifetime internalizing beatings, verbal or otherwise, and spinning them out as motivation. It usually worked, as long as nobody undercut his integrity.

He balled his fist over and over. “You don’t have to take anything. We’re on our way. Sometimes it takes a minute, but they always break in the end.”

“Explain that to Colonel Prescott tomorrow. He’s coming down and bringing the Attorney General. Let’s see how Saint Barnes handles that.”

“Fine, Captain.” Barnes poured tabasco on the big man’s title. “I’ll promise you something. Nobody walks on my watch. See what happens to anyone standing in my way when I’m dragging someone to hell.”

Holland’s mustache twitched with the hint of a smile. “So, you say. Before the day’s out, I want the originals on all your paperwork and a full tick-tock. It’s going straight to the Colonel.”

The Captain’s smirk irritated him but frustration over the request took precedent. “Christ, let me do my job. I’ve got to get out to reinspect the house and office. Bureaucracy doesn’t close cases.”

The Captain pointed a pudgy finger. “Prescott demanded it. When the head of the State Police barks, you do it before he fucking bites.”

Holland stormed from the room, almost steamrolling Shannon. An agile spin kept her from becoming roadkill. She leaned against a filing cabinet, the only furniture in the spartan room beyond two steel folding chairs.

“Congrats on another successful interaction with the brass. Never thought I’d see a detective with the best closure rate universally hated by the higher ups.”

Barnes seethed. “Fuck him and fuck the rest of them too. I’m not playing their games, I’m doing the job.” He kicked a chair and it slammed into the wall with a satisfying bang.

“Easy, I’m not the enemy. The martyr act won’t get you anywhere. You might consider playing nice.”

Occasionally, Shannon glimpsed behind Barnes’ carefully constructed wall. While he was certain it unnerved her, she still spoke her mind. “Sorry. Someone’s always gunning for me. Being the best doesn’t allow time for anyone else’s agenda. I’m not about to change.”

“Fine,” passing on a losing battle. “What’s our next move? I only heard Holland’s side. You solid on what we did today?”

“Andrews is a pervert. We’ve got enough, but tonight’s a paper night. Prescott’s coming and we make sure it’s watertight.”

Shannon frowned and rubbed her temples. “Holland wants to show everyone he’s got his thumb on us. I don’t care that he takes credit sometimes, but this is taking away from the real work. Damn him.”

A sly smile materialized. “Now who needs to play nice?”

“Shut up. I’m not the one with four reprimands for insubordination. You think Andrews will spill? It’s a long time since you didn’t get the confession right away.”

“It’s not insubordination when I’m right. Andrews dropped a few names, but I think they’re bullshit. He’d stick his hand in a pit of rattlesnakes to draw a get out of jail free card.” He paused. “A night or two in a cell will do it.”

But Barnes didn’t believe that. Three cigarettes and creeping concerns consumed his trip to the Barracks. He couldn’t shake the idea there was something rotten about this case, and not just around the edges. Andrews’ arrogance held court in his mind. What’s up your sleeve, you sick son of a bitch? What do you know about what’s coming my way I don’t?

***

Excerpt from Main Street Fringe by Matthew Lavoie. Copyright 2026 by Matthew Lavoie. Reproduced with permission from Matthew Lavoie. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

A policy expert and political operative for some of Washington’s most influential power brokers, Matthew Lavoie has spent his career evaluating the how and why of American political and cultural movements and observing some of the biggest shifts in American and geopolitical history. MAIN STREET FRINGE is his debut novel. He is a member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America.

Catch Up With Matthew Lavoie:

MatthewPLavoie.com
Instagram - @matthewlavoie8181
Facebook - @MatthewLavoie8181
YouTube - @MatthewLavoie8181

 

Tour Participants:

Click through the other tour stops for can’t-miss reviews, insider interviews, exclusive guest posts, and more chances to win!

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

No Conspiracy Here… Just a Great Giveaway

This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Matthew Lavoie. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

MAIN STREET FRINGE by Matthew Lavoie | Gift Cards

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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Maybe You Lied by Jennifer Sadera

MAYBE YOU LIED

by Jennifer Sadera

September 7 - October 16, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Everything he knows about his life is. . . a lie.

Blindsided by the sudden death of his mother, 21-year-old Will Lockhart can no longer afford the rent or bear the haunting memories of their shared Massachusetts apartment. While packing up his mother's belongings, he discovers his long-dead father's deed to a house in upstate New York. With nowhere else to go, he settles there, intent on making a fresh start. But odd things happen as soon as Will moves in. He's unnerved by evidence of fire damage in the cottage, and alarmed by the seizure his elderly next-door neighbor suffers upon meeting him. Most shocking of all are the rumors of a long-ago murder in his house. Now, trapped in a town full of strangers, unsure of whether local murmurings are true or simply small-town gossip, he's determined to discover what really happened all those years ago, and how he's connected to the chaos. The truth will set him free. Or get him killed.

Praise for Maybe You Lied:

"Sadera has done it again! Maybe You Lied is an evocative and compelling tale of family trauma, betrayal, and the chilling truth that the most dangerous secrets are those buried by the people closest to us."
~ Lisa Malice, bestselling author of Lest She Forget, winner of the 2023 IBPA Best New Voice in Fiction Award

"MAYBE YOU LIED is a spectacular thriller that instantly grips you and refuses to let go. With great emotional depth, this novel plunges you inside Will Lockhart's mind, soul, and angst. He's a down on his luck, grief and guilt-ridden young man stuck in a hopeless rut. When he discovers a deed to a house he believes he's inherited, it seems like his luck just might change. Page by page, he uncovers hidden layers of a past he could never have imagined. But when nothing is as it seems and everything you knew about your family and your past is a lie, be careful of digging up the truth. It might set you free...unless it kills you first. This darkly suspenseful, romantic journey knits a cast of intriguing, deeply unreliable characters into a clever, twisty narrative. You won't want to put down this edgy story of loss, love, identity, and family truths as you hurtle towards its surprising end."
~ Zelly Ruskin, award-winning author of Not Yours to Keep and the forthcoming One of Us Must Die

"Maybe You Lied is a twisty, emotionally charged domestic suspense that ramps up to a jaw-dropping, visceral finale. Don't miss it!"
~ Bonnie Traymore, Author of The Rich Guy's Wife

"Family ties? Or family lies? Will Lockhart is coming home to a woodland cottage he never knew existed, his life in shreds and fragments. In a novel as intricately woven as a web, Jennifer Sadera explores sociopathy, nature versus nurture, and the one thing that can never die--a chance at love and redemption."
~ Jenny Milchman, Mary Higgins Clark award winning author of the Arles Shepherd thrillers

"A young man's attempt to piece together his family's dark history propels this gripping mystery, which moves with an electric speed through secrets twistier than the branches of a mangled family tree. Combining thrills, romance, and a moving exploration of grief, MAYBE YOU LIED is perfect for fans of sinister family dynamics who want to devour a thriller in one breathless go."
~ Ashley Winstead, national bestselling author of This Book Will Bury Me

MAYBE YOU LIED Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Suspense, Domestic Suspense
Published by: Creative James Media
Publication Date: September 22, 2026
Number of Pages: 344
ISBN: 9781965648919 (ISBN10: 1965648916)
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Landlords don’t rent apartments to zombies.

I scratched the four-day stubble on my jawline and parked my mom’s Camry behind the brown brick walk-up. Home-Not-So-Sweet Home.

As I stepped into the cramped apartment lobby Sergei was waiting.

“The rent,” he said, his guttural Russian accent turning his words into a nonsensical de-REN. I paused, reluctantly meeting the bushy brows lowered ominously over his steely slitted eyes. Easy to translate.

I nodded and darted my own eyes to the stairway. One of these days my landlord would surely raise a heavily muscled arm and crash his ham hock fist into my face. Emitting my zombie grunt, I pivoted to the stairwell and rushed up, expecting Sergei to follow. Relieved when he didn’t.

It would be a brief reprieve. When my mom lived here Sergei only showed up once a month, but in the three years since she died, he’d pounded his frustration with my spotty payments onto my apartment door with increasing frequency, not budging until I opened the creaky steel barrier. Saying nothing, he’d hold out a meaty palm that looked like it could strangle me all by itself.

Back when I still had cash, I’d offer a wad of fifties and hundreds that he’d snatch up like grabbing cash from an ATM. Only the Will Lockhart machine was now empty, and Sergei looked as though he wanted to kick it into compliance. Kick me. Face flushed with fury, he’d study me with those hard gray pebbles, taking in my disheveled hair and sagging clothes. A gaze that told me exactly what he thought about me—a twenty-one-year-old slacker who clearly cared about nothing. A deadbeat. A zombie. And this was mostly true except for the one thing I cared deeply about: those last seconds with Mom. I relived them daily, the guilt as fresh and dangerously addictive as a drunk’s bleary-eyed yearning for a Bloody Mary the morning after a bender.

I deserved the memories. If not for me, Mom would still be alive.

I closed my eyes against the inevitable scene rolling through my mind. The flash of headlights slicing through my Honda’s dusky interior like a white-hot comet, too fast to stop, too bright to blink away; a violent force whirling me into its vortex. My neck twisting painfully, head hitting something hard. The car’s interior exploding into a slow-motion kaleidoscope. How I’d instinctively thrust my arm out to protect my mom, instant pain bolting from fingers to shoulder; glass shattering and raining down upon us like the stinging embers of trailing fireworks.

And then, the stillness. The church-like quiet.

I’d blinked into the silence as the noises trickled in—the hissing of the steaming engine, and a tinny song coming through the radio from somewhere under the car’s hood. A far-off voice belted out a twangy country tune. “Put on the bacon and the eggs, darlin’ . . .”

Mom and her country music. Mom and her . . . Mom. Head throbbing, I’d scanned the smoke-choked twilight. She was right where she was supposed to be, still hooked in place by her seatbelt, staring straight ahead, like she was listening for something.

“Mom? Are you all right?”

Beyond the jagged glass edges of her blown-out window I saw the lines of the truck through the smoky haze, the words “Barclay’s Bread” written in fancy red letters on its wide, boxy side. Mom said nothing.

Painfully bolted into our twisted metal cage, waiting for the Jaws of Life to extract us, I’d reached out, trying to touch her with my other hand, the one that still worked. If I could just shake her out of her trance.

But in those final precious seconds our bodies existed in the same world, I knew. She was already gone.

I shook my head, forcing me back to the present, wishing my mind could be like the Etch-a-Sketch Mom bought me when I was six. One harsh shake in each direction and the contents of the screen disappeared. But my mind retained in painful detail the truck driver’s distinctive profile, the beak of a nose angled down, a squinted eye and bulbous cheekbone lit up by his cell-phone screen.

As a kid, the thought of Mom dying had set waves of terror rolling through me. Not just because I loved her, but because a part of me always dreaded the day she’d be taken from me. Convinced it would happen but unsure of when, I’d spent a good four years waking up each night and tiptoeing to her bedroom door, peeking through the crack between the edge of the flimsy wood and the wall to ensure she was still in bed, alive. Ridiculous as it seemed, even then, it was understandable, given our track record. I mean, not long before my dad left us, just after my fifth birthday, we’d been a family of four.

***

Excerpt from MAYBE YOU LIED by Jennifer Sadera. Copyright 2026 by Jennifer Sadera. Reproduced with permission from Jennifer Sadera. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Jennifer Sadera first worked in the publishing industry as a junior copywriter for NAL/Penguin. She has written and edited for newspapers and magazines as a freelancer and on the staffs of major women's publications, Woman's World and Redbook.

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Review:

5 stars!

Mounting tension and long-held secrets kept me riveted to my seat! 

Maybe You Lied, a new psychological thriller by Jennifer Sadera, blends an engaging, vulnerable main character with a mysterious setting and suspenseful plot to deliver a tale that kept me glued to the page and reading long into the night. After the death of his mother, young Will Lockhart falls on hard times, earning a dreaded and inevitable eviction notice. But as he gathers important documents in preparation for the coming changes, he discovers a deed, in his deceased father's name, for a house he knew nothing about.

 At the urging of his family's attorney, he drives two hours away to see if it's a viable option for his new home. Vacant and little more than a cabin, Will is just about to explore further when an angry older man approaches him, demanding to know his business. But when he gets a good look at Will's face, this stranger seems to recognize him and turns fearful, his agitation precipitating a sudden medical emergency for which Will summons an ambulance, perhaps saving the man's life. 

Feeling guilty for triggering the man's condition, Will doesn't correct the man's housekeeper, who soon arrives on the scene. Instead, he takes her to the hospital behind the ambulance and waits with her for the update from the doctors. Neither does he come clean when he meets the man's only daughter, Penelope, who believes the story that he just came across him, unconscious, in the wooded area around the vacant cabin. Will settles into his new home, and he and Penelope get closer. Her father's condition remains critical, and he continues to be unable to offer an alternative scenario. Will is living on borrowed time as he tries to uncover the story behind the house and the man's extreme reaction to his arrival. 

The author drew me in from the very start with the shocking hints of what the very young Will may have seen of his older sister, Ange, and kept me rooted in place with her depiction of him at 21, suffering through survivor's guilt over the death of his mother in a car accident which occurred while he was driving. With his older sister's loss followed by his father's departure from the family when Will was only five, it had always been just him and his mother. The tension gradually builds as he is evicted from the apartment they shared after his long recovery from the injuries he himself sustained in the accident. Each twist in the plot heightens the suspense and shifts the story's trajectory, keeping me guessing and riveted for what's to come. I really felt for this character and was immediately invested in what he was experiencing, needing to know the answers to all the secrets he encountered as much as he did. I was absolutely not disappointed. 

Sadera's writing style is clean, easy to read, and immersive, painting a vivid picture of what's unfolding around this vulnerable, sympathetic main character. Once I picked up the story, I was in for the duration and glued to the book well past any reasonable bedtime. 

I recommend MAYBE YOU LIED to readers of psychological and domestic thrillers.

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Teaser Tour: Cressida's Circle (Empire of the Sky, #9) by Mikala Ash

Cressida's Circle

Empire of the Sky, Book Nine

A Steam and Spells Steampunk Adventure

by

Mikala Ash

Steampunk Adventure Romance

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Publication Date: September 11, 2026

Page count: 138 pages

SYNOPSIS:

In a world overthrown by witchcraft, a giant love has been lost. Can Cressida be saved? 

Mourning the loss of her husband, Cressida Troy is on her way to Earth. Her mission; to meet the Queen of England and cement relations between the Lunarians and humans to present a united front in the approaching war with the Martians. For Cressida, the mission has a much deeper and personal meaning. Being human, as well as the Lunarian Empress, Cressida is plagued by doubt and guilt and seeks redemption for what is seen by many as the betrayal of her species. Matters are complicated when she is kidnapped by the pernicious witch, Lady Neva, who is hell-bent on revenge against Queen Victoria. Armed with unlimited magical power, Lady Neva is planning to usurp the crown and rule both Earth and space.

Meanwhile Jacob McLeary, Cressida’s former fiancé, is under the watchful and lascivious eye of Lavinia Branscombe, a Lunarian agent. Knowledge of the dark secret at the heart of the Lunarian society fuels Jacob’s loathing of the aliens, but with so much at stake, can love overcome the barrier of hate? Will Cressida find redemption?

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ENJOY AN EXCERPT:

Like a child’s toy, the cradle of humanity filled the bridge windows with brilliant colour: blue, green, and brown, flecked with white, a gemstone set against the black velvet of space. If only people could know how insignificant this world was in the scheme of things, floating silently in the incomprehensible emptiness.

Pointless philosophising distracted me for only a moment. My heart trembled with anticipation. I was nearly home.

The Lunarian crew, in their natural form, goblin like, winged with leathery skin and large bright eyes, ignored my presence, as they should. Though they were experienced, with hundreds of trips behind them, piloting a spacecraft was not something to be taken lightly, especially with me on board creating the expectation that everything should be executed perfectly.

I would have put them at ease, but that would have been churlish of me, I realised. They wanted to impress me, and lowering expectations would have been like a slap in the face, a sign of patronising condescension on my part. Not an endearing action no matter how well intended.

I turned my thoughts back to the sparkling globe before us, and the people who awaited me. I’d read how the ancients believed that the souls of the dead fled their bodies and ascended to the moon, a way station before reincarnation, or their ultimate disposition in paradise or the underworld. Little did they contemplate that souls from that grey desert of a world would descend upon the Earth and conquer it.

I had to be careful how I approached not just the Queen, and her parliament, but most importantly the bureaucracy which ruled from the shadows and exerted more power than she could ever hope to wield. I hoped they understood we humans were a conquered species. Of course, behind the mask of cheerful bonhomie and expressions of respect as they delivered begrudging cooperation, there would be fear and hatred. From that febrile soup simple misunderstandings could bubble up and poison the nascent relationship.

The politicians had wanted a state visit to impress everyone with the importance of our relationship, and to thank me for using our power to save them from their European enemies. Though our reasons differed, I agreed with Her Majesty that ostentatious displays of pomp and ceremony were unnecessary. She wanted to maintain her image of the Warrior Queen and didn’t want to share the adoration of the crowds as the saviour of the Empire. She feared the loss of face if I was seen as an equal.

I wanted none of that either, feeling as disloyal as I did for my part in what was fundamentally the takeover of her empire. I requested a low-key, quiet visit. A gentle introduction back into human society. One in which I would not feel such a fraud. With Her Majesty’s relieved endorsement, my desire had carried the day.

The other vexed issue was the taking of her son the Prince of Wales by Lady Neva. I had to placate and convince her that we were doing everything we could to return him to her. Though she detested the Prince -- after all he had been intimately involved in several assassination attempts, and she had come so close to strangling him with her own hands -- he was her son.

Randolf, my bodyguard and general factotum on this mission, floated at my side. “My lady,” he said softly into my ear. “Amanda has prepared a meal.”

“Thank you, Randolf.” I had skipped breakfast, and as always, my body servant had correctly anticipated my needs. I was indeed feeling hungry.

Randolf was a handsome, powerfully built, athletic man. His bright azure eyes reminded me so much of Jacob’s. My body stirred, my nipples hardened, and my quim throbbed. He and his female counterpart, the stunningly beautiful Amanda, had pleasured me delightfully and often since we had left the moon, and I had gratefully surrendered myself to them. That train of thought pushed the need for food aside. I wanted to be pleasured again.

I took Randolf’s proffered hand, and we glided to the access chute that led “down” to the passenger quarters. His body heat pulsed through his tunic and through my gown to warm my flesh. He wore no pants, and his stiff cock swayed enticingly as he propelled himself before me. Amanda was awaiting us, naked and undeniably aroused, the nipples of her ample breasts pink and erect. I gave her an encouraging smile to confirm my thoughts were of a similar nature.

Being firm, she countermanded my desire with the advice that I needed sustenance. She offered a full English breakfast: steaming scrambled eggs, kippers, ham, bacon, and sausages, kidneys, mushrooms, and fried tomatoes. A feast for a multitude. With a petulant pout, I took a dainty bite of each and finished with a cup of tea and a slice of toast. I’d maintained a salacious gaze which lingered on her almond-shaped eyes and gave rise to a pink flush to her cheeks. When I’d finished, I gracefully dabbed my mouth with a napkin and took Randolf’s cock in hand.

“Keep the food warm, and join us,” I told Amanda. “I may eat some more later. My current appetite, though, is for the diverting pleasures of unbridled fornication.”

Making love when one has no weight, once the initial challenges are overcome, is a sublime enterprise, more like an ethereal ballet of the most intimate kind. Holding your partner in a close embrace, limbs entwined, his cock held snugly by one’s tight sheath, so that you become as one, spinning, rotating, pirouetting like a ballerina celebrating a mind-shattering climax.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!”

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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Blackout (Jake Bendel Thriller, #3) by J. Luke Bennecke

BLACKOUT

by J. Luke Bennecke

September 7 - October 16, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A Jake Bendel Thriller 

THE LIES SHINE BRIGHTEST WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT.

The assassination was only the beginning. When the President of the United States is killed in a coordinated drone strike, the nation spirals into chaos. But this isn’t terrorism. It’s strategy.

Behind the attack stands a brilliant and ruthless leader of a shadowy global cabal known only as New3—a group convinced the age of American dominance is already over.

They’re just speeding it up.

Their plan is devastating in its simplicity:

• First, kill the president.
• Then cripple the nation’s power grid.
• Finally, plunge the United States into darkness long enough for rival superpowers to make their move.

Civil engineer Jake Bendel never expected to be part of that war. As one of the architects of America’s AI-driven energy grid, he helped design the very system now being turned against the country.

As blackouts spread and order begins to fracture, Jake teams up with FBI agent Kristi Konnors to follow a trail of digital clues—only to uncover a conspiracy far bigger than a cyberattack. One that could hand America’s collapse to China and Russia.

Then it becomes personal.

Evidence emerges that Jake’s wife, Cynthia—presumed dead for years—may still be alive, trapped inside the organization behind it all.

Now Jake is running out of time. Because if the lights go out across America, the invasion won’t be far behind. And the system he built may be the only thing that can stop it.

Perfect for fans of David Baldacci and Tom Clancy, BLACKOUT is a high-stakes techno-thriller where cutting-edge technology collides with global power—and one man is forced to decide how far he’ll go to stop what’s coming.

BLACKOUT Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: High-Concept Thriller
Published by: Jaytech Publishing
Publication Date: October 6, 2026
Number of Pages: 436
ISBN: 9798990527386
Series: Jake Bendel Thrillers, Book 3 || Learn More About the series on Amazon & Goodreads
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Books2Read

Read an excerpt:

FACTS:

1. The United States power grid is divided into three largely independent systems, considered one of the most complex machines ever built with over 160,000 miles of high-voltage transmission lines. Large portions of the grid infrastructure are decades old.
2. Modern societies rely on electricity for nearly every critical system including: water treatment plants, fuel pipelines, telecommunications networks, hospitals, and transportation systems.
3. GPS signals are surprisingly weak and vulnerable to interference.
4. The largest blackout in North American history affected 50 million people in August 2023 involving eight states and Canada.
5. Small inexpensive drones can now carry lethal payloads.
6. The U.S. military (under DARPA’s OFFSET program) have tested drone swarm “curtain” formations.

Chapter 1

Friday, September 27 - 8:49 a.m. -
AIRPLANE #1 - Private Gulfstream Jet - Coast of Venezuela

The day was perfect for flying, sipping Russo-Baltique vodka—and an assassination.

In exactly eleven minutes.

Ominous black clouds churned miles beneath the Gulfstream cruising high above the Atlantic. Far away, 1,600 miles north, thick fog rolled across the runway at Tampa International Airport—with Air Force One descending on approach.

Tracy strode the cabin aisle, air thick with sweat and heavy leather. Her smartwatch pinged. Florida ground team: Eight minutes to launch. All good.

Fiddling with her charcoal pearl necklace, she eyed the dozen technicians, each tracking a sliver of the covert op. Right on schedule. She halted behind her lead coordinator, Boris, bent over a pulsing, colorful weather map.

When Tracy placed her hand on his shoulder, Boris stopped typing and adjusted his headset. She stood erect, arms crossed and chin high, her gold silk blouse complementing her team’s black combat uniforms like a leather-banded Swiss watch.

Seeds of anarchy thrive in a nation stripped of electric power.

The enormous gravity of today’s operation weighed on everyone aboard. Their goal: to plant kernels of chaos.

She clucked her tongue, gave a sharp nod and pointed to a green and yellow blob on his screen. “Tell me that’s not fog.”

Successfully executing their mission—polished for years—would bring infamy to her name and enter Tracy Daniela Ciacchella into the history books alongside John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald. Not desirable, but exitus acta probat: the outcome justifies the deeds.

“It is, but ma’am, your yacht is in perfect position in Old Tampa Bay,” Boris said, a hint of a Russian accent slipping through on certain syllables. “All four hundred drones fully programmed, ready for activation and deployment from boat deck. We have new problem.”

A sitting US president hadn’t fallen since ‘63. Today’s mission was the culmination of years of planning, subversion, and digital sleight of hand. No bullets. No lone gunman. Just 400 Semtex-laden drones guided by a matrix of stolen GPS coordinates and a rigged FAA exemption buried three years ago by one of her assets.

A clean kill.

Boris nodded. “Not worried about fog, ma’am, but light rain, not good for drones. Moved in faster than expected.”

Each drone carried a two-pound brick of homemade Semtex.

Washington had talked counter-drone defense for years. But as was typical with US leadership, nothing actually got done. No productive decisions. Only political wrangling and posturing—mixed with unhealthy levels of toxic masculinity.

Incompetent politicians. Yet another reason to raise my curtain of death—weather permitting.

For the final time, Tracy confirmed the ground team in position. On her iPad, she tapped open the video chat app connected with her two generals: first, the captain on her yacht in Old Tampa Bay, Florida; and second, her trusted, longtime friend Bob Huffington—nicknamed

Huff—perched atop the Macy’s roof near I-275. Positioned a mile south, Huff had an unobstructed view of the final approach flight path for runway 1R at Tampa International.

Although Tracy herself was nowhere near Florida, both video feeds from her team streamed clean and crisp via satellite. Rolling fog thickened, obscuring her views.

“Wind speed?” she asked Huff.

“Twenty-two knots. For now, acceptable, but if gusts start pushing above twenty-five, our chances drop to ten percent.”

Getting Goldberg into place had been her masterpiece. After today, with President Whitehead out of the picture, Vice President Goldberg would give Tracy direct access to the power levers controlling the federal government. Her puppet would be in perfect position for the next phase of world domination.

It was now or never. Time for the all-important decision.

Even if the wind began gusting, the drones might still fly close enough to do catastrophic damage.

Tracy brought her iPad close and announced into the tiny speaker, “Green. Repeat, we are green for Operation Black Flock.”

On her screen, both generals nodded in confirmation. Now—shadowy iPad feeds showed Huff entering the launch code while workers on the boat peeled off a massive blue tarp to reveal a cargo container with four hundred off-the-shelf quadcopter drones—all made in China—packed inside a customized carbon fiber lattice. Each carried a two-pound payload of Semtex and a pre-programmed set of GPS-coordinated waypoints—latitude, longitude and elevation—to travel to.

“Gusts up to twenty-four knots,” Huff said, nervously tugging at his earlobe before giving her a thumbs up, indicating her ground team had programmed the drones and activated them. Assuming the weather cooperated, the small black machines would follow precise paths using exact signals from dozens of GPS satellites—all in working order as of five minutes ago, according to her inside man at the Department of Defense. Her DOD contact had also confirmed the Air Force One plane on descent was, in fact, carrying President Whitehead, not a decoy.

Boris leaned back in his chair, away from his laptop, and squinted at Tracy. “I still think we could have come up with a better name for this op.”

She nodded, anxiety rising, wondering whether the drones would perform as intended. “Perhaps.”

“How about Operation Kill Racist Xenophobic Pedophile?”

“Come now, Boris. Way too long.” Tracy gave a silent smirk.

A tiny matrix of red and green lights blinked on her iPad, communicating status from every craft, as propellers whirred, creating a bee-like buzzing sound crackling from the embedded speaker.

The swarm of drones lifted skyward and disappeared into the gray blur of rolling fog.

***

Excerpt from Blackout by J. Luke Bennecke. Copyright 2026 by J. Luke Bennecke. Reproduced with permission from J. Luke Bennecke. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

J. Luke Bennecke is an Amazon #1 bestselling thriller author who writes about what happens when technology gets smarter—and people don’t. A former civil engineer and longtime executive, he spent decades designing real-world systems in California before turning to fictional ones that fail far more spectacularly. His novels explore artificial intelligence, surveillance, memory manipulation, and the dangerous gap between innovation and ethics. He is currently at work on his tenth novel.

Luke lives in Southern California with his wife of thirty-five years and their four spunky cats. When not writing, he enjoys philanthropy, consulting as an engineering expert witness, traveling, playing golf, creating videos, and voiceover acting.

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Facebook - @JLukeBennecke
LinkedIn

 

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Book Blitz & Giveaway - Turtle Lake: The Wild Card Syndrome by Robert Milne

Turtle Lake:

The Wild Card Syndrome

by

Robert Milne

Crime Thriller / Suspense

Publisher: Mission Point Press

Publication Date: September 7, 2026

Page count: 172 pages

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SYNOPSIS:

 

Turtle Lake is a gripping tale of revenge, survival, and the intricate interplay between human nature and the natural world. The story follows Jim Peters, the comptroller at Ramsey Motors, who uncovers a corrupt scheme by the company and its insurer, U.S. Underwriters, to defraud employees of their retirement and insurance benefits before moving operations overseas. Infuriated, he devises an elaborate extortion plan to expose their corruption and protect the employees through a spectacular plot that ends up achieving national headlines. To accomplish his plan, Peters uses simple, everyday methods and lessons learned from alpha predators in the natural world.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Bob Milne has been hailed throughout his 60-year career as one of the best ragtime/boogie-woogie piano players of all time. A solo concert performer, he traveled all over the world playing for dignitaries and celebrities as well as small town audiences. He was given the title of National Treasure by the Library of Congress and deemed an Ambassador of Music by the U.S. Department of State.

Bob’s extraordinary musical abilities were the subject of numerous brain studies, which have inspired a popular RadioLab podcast.

Little did they know that Bob was also a talented writer.

For years he wrote articles about his saloon-playing days for music publications. Many of these stories were compiled into a book called The Journeyman Piano Player: Adventures in Gracious Dining. Bob has written reams of poetry, some of which became lyrics to songs that he composed. The longest piece of poetry he ever wrote was the lyric book for The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, a grand opera he composed and orchestrated.

Mr. Milne has been fascinated by nature his entire life. At a young age he realized that instincts are present in all species of birds, mammals (including humans), and literally every living thing in nature. He has used this information countless times over his lifetime to predict what the human species will do in future situations.

Bob is now retired from the long piano tours and is enjoying his woodland home. Today he spends his time studying nature in the woods. Signed copies of his book may be purchased through his website.

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Book Review: Can't Run With the Big Dogs (Veronica Kildare K-9 Mystery, #4) by Tracy Carter

Can't Run with the Big Dogs by Tracy Carter
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Excitement, suspense, and the heroine's special relationships with working dogs make this tale of mystery and hidden menace a must-read!

Can't Run With the Big Dogs is the fourth book in Tracy Carter's dog-loving Veronica Kildare K-9 Mystery series, featuring the savvy dog trainer and her amazing dog, Leda, and their wonderful circle of family and friends, each with their own working dogs and passion for helping others. In this latest adventure, Veronica and Leda are called upon to trail the paths of several missing, lost, and abducted people, and readers get a front-row seat as a couple of service-dogs-in-training learn their new craft.

Veronica, a lifelong dog lover, has built a new life as the owner of her own dog training facility and the human half of the area's premier search-and-rescue team, alongside her Chesapeake Bay Retriever, Leda. But before settling in Boulder, she had been the victim of an horrific ambush when her district attorney boss and sheriff's deputy fiancé had been gunned down by a violent criminal who then eluded capture. While the gunman's burned-out vehicle with an unidentified body inside had eventually been discovered, there had been no positive proof that his reign of terror and threats to Veronica were over. Throughout the series, the lingering threat that Tommy Arnett was still out there, watching and waiting, has really enhanced the foreboding and suspense of the stories, and this book provides the same brooding background menace. Still, a note of hope lingers as everyone waits for the results of new DNA testing.

Veronica's relationship with her delightful professional baseball player beau, Ricardo, has helped heal her emotional wounds from the past, and their time together is warm and comfortable. Veronica is supported by her loving and talented father, Bob, who tests and rights reviews for outdoor outdoors equipment and has a clear genius for manipulating and processing out information via the Internet, besides being a dab hand in the kitchen, and by Michael, the young product of the state foster system, now living on site while attending college and learning to become a K-9 handler and dog trainer himself. Veronica's best friend Sylvia, her husband, Boulder PD Sergeant Tim Donovan, and their brood of two sets of twin teenage daughters round out her close-knit circle of friends. As a group, they focus on service and making a positive impact on their environment and community. While facing some difficult situations, they always strive for excellence and maintain a positive attitude, which becomes very important when partnered with a working dog on assignment.

Yet, the highlights of the book are those featuring Veronica's work with the dogs. Beyond Leda and her exciting rescue operations in the surrounding Colorado wilderness areas, this book also features her adventures with two fledgling service dogs. Sky, an 18-month-old Australian cattle dog mix and shelter rescue, is undergoing training to sniff out and alert nursing home staff to the presence of C. diff, an insidious bacteria that can be deadly to the elderly. Decla, a two-year-old Irish Red and White Setter who lost her human family in a car accident, is finding a new home and purpose as a drug-detection dog at the local horse-racing track. Decla's storyline intersects with the main plot of strange goings-on at the track, where already two grooms with important information have gone missing.

Finally, the author chooses an exceptionally versatile setting by placing the action in the Boulder/Denver, Colorado, area. The descriptions of the locations are vivid and so critical to the action that readers can almost feel the bitter cold and damp, smell the crisp, fir-scented air, and feel the loose, rocky trails beneath their feet as Veronica and Leda trail the scent of someone who is having the worst day of their life.

With its engaging cast of characters, vibrant settings, and compelling plot, I recommend CAN'T RUN WITH THE BIG DOGS to readers of mysteries, thrillers, and suspense.

I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advance Review Copy from Reedsy Discovery.

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Week Blast & Giveaway: Everything That's Left Behind by Kelly Lydick

Everything That's Left Behind

by

Kelly Lydick

Fiction / Science Fiction

Publisher: Sapphire Stories

Publication Date: June 28, 2026

Page count: 302 pages

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SYNOPSIS:

When Nichola Rodale stumbles upon information suggesting her father—a renowned scientist and brilliant puzzle maker—may not have died during The Great Drought, she embarks on a perilous journey across the desolate American Southwest to discover the truth.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Kelly Lydick’s writing has appeared in Natural Awakenings, Co Yoga + Life, True Blue Spirit, American Art Collector, Western Art Collector, and many others. She has been featured on NPR’s The Writers’ Block and the Word podcast, and on iHeart Radio. She is the author of the experimental Mastering the Dream, a contributing author to the anthology Dreams That Change Our Lives, and the author of Dream Incubation for Greater Self-Awareness: A Handbook. Everything That’s Left Behind is her first novel.

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