Pages

Tuesday, July 28, 2026

Blog Tour: IYSH

 




Fiction

Date Published: 04-17-2025



In 1940, Leo Butlion, a young Jew studying to be a medical doctor in Koblenz, Germany, has his future plans disrupted when Nazi forces destroy his family and their business. His heroic escape and commitment to survive drive him to overcome the greatest test man could ever encounter. Ivy Jacobson, a deformed yet highly talented fashion designer, works in a textile factory in Liege, Belgium that is ransacked by Nazi invaders. She escapes their brutality and meets Leo. Leo explains the Hebrew word IYSH which means "champion" and together they agree to persevere and champion the cause no matter how difficult it becomes. Their heroism and tenacity unfold in dramatic fashion as they are captured, separated and sent to concentration camps where their future survival is unclear. The story develops from WWII until the Yom Kippur War in 1973 which takes place in Israel.



Excerpt

A week later, as roll call is coming to an end, a woman standing close to Ivy begins coughing and heaves clots of blood that splash onto the white frost at her feet. She is so weak she struggles to stay on her feet. She staggers for a moment and then stumbles forward onto the woman in front of her. The weak, sick woman has no strength left, and falls backwards onto Ivy. Ivy instinctively reaches forward to catch her, but is late in getting to her. The weight of the sick woman falls directly onto Ivy’s left arm. As Ivy catches her, she feels the leather strap snap under the woman’s weight. The prosthesis falls to the ground, making a crunching noise as it hits the frost.

Ivy’s first reaction is to camouflage the prosthesis lying on the ground, and she falls onto it, pulling the woman on top of her. “Karen, help me,” is Ivy’s desperate call. Karen notices the whole event, and reacts quickly by falling on top of the two women. A guard pushes his way past the rest of the women, and storms towards them, “Get up! This is no place to lie down!” The rasping command spreads fear into the three women lying on the frost.

They don’t look at the guard and Karen tries to crawl over Ivy and reach for the prosthesis. However, the guard notices the straps sticking out from under the sick woman’s waist. As Karen picks it up, the guard sticks his huge black military boot out and tramples her fingers into the frost. She screams with pain, but does not let go of the thongs, hoping she can hide the prosthesis and the thongs under Ivy and the sick woman. Karen kicks at the guard’s knee high boots, and he doesn’t feel anything. She is trying to distract his attention and allow Ivy to hide the prosthesis.

“What’s this?” The guard kneels down looking at the thongs, and pulls them towards him. He stands up and holds the prosthesis shoulder high. Bewilderment is the first expression he portrays and then a smirk filters over his face. He looks directly at Ivy who lies on the cold frost. She rolls over face down onto the frost

and starts sobbing, knowing that after all she had been through, she has now been found out. Karen crawls towards her on all fours, leans over her, and tries to console her. “Ivy, we must be strong, they won’t hurt us. Be strong, please.” Karen knows she is talking to herself as well, and that the words are futile. This has to be the end for both women.

“Get up!” shouts the guard as he kicks Ivy and Karen. He leaves the sick woman who is unable to move, blood still pouring out of her mouth as she coughs. “I said get up! Are you also deaf, woman!” The statement cuts into Ivy’s heart like a sharp, piecing hot iron.

Karen is the first one on her feet, and she leans over to help Ivy. The guard reacts with a swift thrust of his right arm against Karen’s back that sends her crashing to the ground. “She can get up on her own! Let’s see her do it.” Turning to Ivy, he shouts hysterically at her, “Get up, woman, or must I shoot you now!” Ivy gets to her knees and falls again. Her strength is sapped by fear and anguish. By now, fear and heartache flood both their hearts. For Ivy, it is all over. Surely they will kill me is all she can think of. Oh, why did this have to happen now? She shakes on her feet as she sobs, cradling the left stump in her right hand. Why God, why? The guard grabs Karen by the neck, and pushes her brutally towards the back of the ranks. “We will teach you to betray the Wehrmacht, slut. There is only one way to teach you a lesson, and everyone else!” By now, the guard is so angry at the fact that a woman has concealed her prosthesis from the army, he is prepared to vent this on Karen.

The matron, who is standing on the platform, doesn’t care what the guard does to Karen. Then she points to Ivy, who is still on her knees trying to get up, and commands another guard in a callous fashion, “Bring me that heap of misery!” Ivy is terrified. Her body shakes as she tries to walk through the prisoners towards the matron. As she reaches the platform, Ivy stands in front of the matron, her head is down looking at the ground because she is unable to face her executioner.

“So, you have been hiding this from us all this time!” The words slam into Ivy’s heart as she stands shaking, knowing that this is to be her impromptu trial. “How long have you been like this?” Ivy cannot bring herself to reply. Through the tears, she looks up at the matron.

The matron struts to her desk and drops into the chair. She pays no attention to Ivy, who stands in front of her shaking. Ivy has no control over her emotions anymore, and the anxiety and terror that encases her heart causes her to soil herself. She stands in front of the matron still holding her left stump in her right hand.

Ivy’s fate is in the hands of this plump round-faced matron who, during the years at the camp, has never showed mercy to anyone. Surely Ivy’s punishment will be worse than Karen’s. Oh, God, please help me, I am this way because of you, please God, please, begs Ivy under her breath as she stands trembling from fear.

“How long have you been like this?” inquires the matron for the second time. Ivy tries to straighten up, and she wipes the tears from off her checks. Then she reaches down to her torn dress, and uses it to wipe her nose. She croaks out the words, “Since birth.”

“Then how in tarnation did you get into this camp, and hide this from us all the time!” The matron explodes in anger and slams her fist on the desk as she speaks at the top of her voice. “Do you know what they do to deformed people in the Third Reich?” The question thunders in Ivy’s ears. She knows all too well what happens to them, and she realizes that this is the eventual road she will have to go once the matron is finished with her.

It is too much for Ivy, and her knees cave in under the mental pressure, and she leans forward to hold onto the desk as the gravity of the situation swoops over her.

“Do you know that I have no choice but to follow orders and shoot you?” The uncouth matron, who shows no pity on Ivy, mouths the death knell. With the emptiness of a hangman, she speaks them to Ivy, as if to say, you are done for. “Please, Matron, please,” says Ivy as she sobs, desperately pleading for her life to be spared. She can get nothing else out. Her throat dries up, and her mind is swimming as the overpowering fear avalanches its way into her heart. She falls to her knees under the strain and pressure and hangs onto the edge of the desk, breaking out into a heart wrenching sob.

“Adjutant, get in here!” shouts the matron. This must be the final decision for Ivy, as she realizes she will now be dragged out to the courtyard and shot in front of the other prisoners. She tries to stand up and face the last few minutes of her life with at least some dignity.

The adjutant walks briskly to the matron’s desk and stands to attention, waiting his instructions. To her amazement Ivy hears the words, “Get me this woman’s file.” The adjutant pulls at Ivy’s right arm, and looks at her number, does an about face, walks out of the office, and returns a few minutes later with a brown manila file.

The matron reaches for the file and casually flips it open. Her eyes fall on a letter addressed to her from Captain Willem Langford in the Textile factory in Berlin where Ivy has worked. A frown creases her brow as she holds the letter towards the light.

The matron drops the letter on her desk and speaks to Ivy in a condescending manner, “You seemed to be of some use to this Captain Langford, what did you get up to there? I suppose you were more than a designer, or do I read this incorrectly?” Ivy is insulted by the remark, and for the first time she stares at the matron, this time in indignation. “I don’t know what you mean. I did what I was told, and that’s all.” She gathers enough courage to make her next point very

clear, “Contrary to your thinking, Captain Langford is an honorable man, and a fine officer. As for me, I’m your prisoner, and have never been abused by him.”

“Captain Langford, this is Matron Von Eck at Ravensbruck Concentration Camp.”

“Yes, Matron, what can I do for you?” Langford is cordial and to the point. “I want you to think back to when you had a prisoner working for you. Her name was Jacobson, she was…”

The matron can say no more as Langford immediately interrupts her. “Yes, I remember her, Matron. She did the Wehrmacht excellent service, even as a prisoner.” There is a moment of silence before Langford speaks again. “Matron, it was the last day she worked for us. The moment I found out she had one hand, I sent her back to you. This was also the day that General Gruber visited the factory, and gave us orders to start a new production line for the next phase for the war. It was when I was discussing the new designs with her that I found out she was deformed.”

Langford uses his superior rank on the matron and reacts to her question, “I wrote to you the day I transferred her back to you. How come you are calling me now about this woman?” The question is direct and places the matron on the defensive.

“Something has come up, and she is involved in it. I needed to get clarification from you.” Her answer is evasive and almost works.

Langford again decides to use his rank, and in an unprecedented manner, commands the matron. “I will need her very soon again. In fact I am looking for workers with such talent right now, and instructing you to do nothing with her. I will contact you within the month, and arrange her transfer back to this factory. Is that understood?”

The matron has no choice but to obey the officer who is much higher in rank than her. She also realizes that there is nothing she can do to Ivy. That is her instruction, and she had better take care of Ivy, or she will be held accountable by her superiors if anything happens to her.

The matron replaces the receiver, scowls as she shuffles the papers back into Ivy’s folder, and bellows, “Jacobson, get back in here, now!”

As Ivy walks back into the office expecting to hear her death sentence, to her amazement, Ivy hears the matron growl at her as she struggles to say, “Return to your barrack. Let me be clear on this, if you ever flaunt your deformity to anyone, or on any guard, I will personally take great delight in punishing you. Do you hear me?”

Ivy does not answer her. She turns around and walks out of the office. As she leaves, she looks up at the sky. It is grey and miserable that morning. But, now there is a ray of sunshine peeping through a gap in the clouds. She takes hold of her left arm and says through the tears of relief, “IYSH”.


About the Author

 

 Greg Price is a writer, human resource expert and an ordained minister. He has traveled extensively throughout the world and shares his experiences by translating them into literary characters who inspire and motivate the reader. Greg immigrated to the United States from south Africa and currently lives with his wife in Mississippi.


Contact Link

Facebook


Purchase Links

https://mybook.to/IYSH

Amazon

Barnes and Noble




RABT Book Tours & PR

Blog Tour: Twin Flames

 



Sons of Sin MC

MC Romance
Date Published: 02-24-2026
Publisher: Evernight Publishing



The Sons of Sin Motorcycle Club are a force to be reckoned with. Led by Saint and his twin brother, Sinner, their bond is unbreakable. They run the Cheyenne Chapter with respect and unwavering allegiance.


What starts out a lucrative deal with a rival club suddenly erupts into chaos when shots are fired, and the money mysteriously disappears. Frustration and suspicion fester because it becomes very clear that there is a traitor amongst them.


Across the street, Kira is an unwilling witness, and she knows where the money has been hidden. Terrified, she returns it, but her actions spark Saint’s mistrust, and he orders Sinn to keep a watchful eye on her.  A fragile bond begins to form, woven from threads of shared trauma. The line between loyalty and betrayal is razor thin. Can three seemingly different souls find healing from their intertwined destinies?

 



Excerpt

“Hello, there,” came a butter-smooth voice. “Haven’t seen you before.”

Kira turned. The man who talked was tall and ruggedly good looking. Not as handsome as Sinn, but she figured there weren’t too many men that could hold a candle to him. Not that she cared or anything. Why did this club have so many good-looking guys?

“And you’ll not likely to see me ever again. Can you point out where Sinn would be?”

The man narrowed his eyes as he studied her. She made sure to not blink as she stared him down, making sure not to show any weakness. Never again would she show any sign of fear or compassion to a man. Two things that had once been her downfall.

As if making up his mind, the man tilted his chin toward a door behind him. “He’s in the office with his brother.”

Cautiously, she followed him, maintaining an arm length between them. She didn’t like the clubhouse, didn’t like the feel of it. It reminded her too much of that night. Kira didn’t shy away from thinking about all the pain and suffering she had endured because it was a reminder not to trust anyone.

The man stopped in front of a door, knocked, then opened it when he was given permission. Kira stepped into the room, twisting a little to make sure her back wasn’t left vulnerable. At first glance, she saw that Sinn sat behind a desk, only…

“You’re not Sinn,” she stated.

The obvious clone raised an eyebrow. “I’m not?”

They looked the same, sounded the same, and yet the look in his eyes was completely different. Ruthlessness lay in the arctic freeze of his gaze that held a hint of ugliness. Or perhaps the menacing glare was simply disdain. He perused her up and down, turning her blood cold. If they tried to get the drop on her, she’d be more than happy to show she was no longer a damsel in distress.

Then a toilet flushed, and a moment later a door behind the clone opened. Sinn patted his hands on a paper towel when their gazes met. His dimples flashed when he smiled, obviously thinking she came to take him up on his offer.

“There you are.”

He tossed the used paper towel into the trash then opened his arms wide. “Here I am. Although I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I was sure I was gonna have to start stalking you at work.”

“Don’t,” she said emphatically. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish.”

“Somebody sounds grumpy.” He nudged the clone. “Just like you, actually.”

“Fuck off,” Not-Sinn said, then he addressed her. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” she countered.

Sinn laughed. “Kira, this is my brother, Saint. Saint, this is Kira.”

“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I read that on her uniform, but who is she?”

Her thought earlier that no man could hold a candle to Sinn disappeared into the ether. “Saint and Sinn?”

“Sinner, actually.” He seemed to smile a lot, if the crinkles by his eyes were any indication. “Mom was either stoned or drunk, or possibly even both, when she named us. She had a flair for the dramatic. Brother, this is the young lady I told you about from the diner.”

“Yeah, again, I got that from her uniform.” Saint studied her like she was a bug under a microscope. “Are you here to become club ass or something? You saw Sinn and thought he’d date you?”

She should’ve known that was what they were going to assume. “I’m here to return your money.” She pulled the duffel out of the shopping bag.

The humor fled Sinn as he and Saint’s gaze zeroed in on the duffel. 

 


About the Author

 


I’m passionate about weaving tales of romance and connection, inviting readers into worlds where love conquers all. Crafting heartfelt stories and steamy scenes that make the pulse race, as well as taking readers on swoon-worthy adventures. I try to weave emotions into my stories that punch you in the gut because I love stories that break your heart before putting it back together. I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I strive to create characters who are complex and full of flaws. Deep passion romance between heroes and heroines who find redemption through love.

Contact Links

Purchase Links



RABT Book Tours & PR

Monday, July 27, 2026

PROMO: Uprising

 



Book One of the Fitzjohn Duology


Historical Fiction with Speculative and Romantic Elements

Date Published: 09-01-2026

Publisher: Literary Wanderlust



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.



Chapter Six 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.

 

About the Author

 

 J.E. Rizzo is a life-long history fanatic and writer of historical fiction, and her work can be found in Vanity Fair, The Boston Globe, The Guardian, The Tudor Times, Tudor Life Magazine, Scary Mommy, and Ultrarunning Magazine. Rizzo won Manuscript Academy’s Agent Choice Award in 2024, and 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.

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.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Blog

Goodreads

Instagram

BlueSky


Amazon


RABT Book Tours & PR

PROMO: A Deadly Inferno Consumes

 




House of Croft, Book 6


Murder Mystery Romance

Date Published: July 28, 2026



A chilling disappearance, a lethal enemy, and a family pushed to the brink…

 

When the Duke of Wrengate’s sister vanishes without a trace, suspicion swirls. Did she flee to escape a scandalous secret…or has she been abducted? Whispers lead to a treacherous underworld, where rumors of an illicit auction suggest a far more sinister fate: a woman trapped, drugged, and enslaved. Determined to save her, Adrian Croft and his valet, Murry, plunge into London’s darkest corners.

But Finn O’Leary, the Irishman bent on revenge, remains a threat that presents a difficult choice for Adrian: save Wrengate's sister or protect his family. With the recent birth of his daughter, he and his wife, Samantha, have more to lose than ever before. And as danger closes in, they must fight with everything they have. Not only for justice, but for their very survival.


About the Author


USA TODAY bestselling author Sophie Barnes writes historical romance novels in which the characters break away from social expectations in their quest for happiness and love. Having written for Avon, an imprint of Harper Collins, her books have been published internationally in eight languages. With a fondness for travel, Sophie has lived in six countries, on three continents, and speaks English, Danish, French, Spanish, and Romanian with varying degrees of fluency. Ever the romantic, she married the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses.

When she’s not busy dreaming up her next swoon worthy romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, practicing yoga, baking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

YouTube

Twitter

Instagram

Pinterest

Bookbub

Goodreads

BookBuzz

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

BN

iTunes

Kobo

Smashwords



RABT Book Tours & PR

Blog Tour: The Beauty of Individual Things

 




Historical Fiction / Jazz Age Romance

Date Published: 07-14-2026

Publisher: Mission Point Press



The Beauty of Individual Things follows Margot Andrews, a young American woman swept from New York high society into the dazzling yet fractured world of 1920s London. When the transactional demands of privilege collide with betrayal and violence, leaving her disillusioned and adrift, she escapes to the freshwater shoreline of lost childhood summers.

With her past unrecoverable and her future uncertain, Margot searches for a different life amid Detroit’s dynamic and monied Prohibition era—with its yacht races, rumrunners, and industrial might. Set against a city on the rise, she must navigate her family’s ruthless pursuit of social standing, the magnetic pull of charismatic boat racer Ellis James, and the relentless echoes of her past. The story explores the weight of loneliness and the personal cost of love and reinvention as Margot decides whether to remain a fragile ornament of her family’s design or forge an identity that is beautiful, imperfect, and entirely her own.






Excerpt

No one tells a young woman that things usually happen because of money, sex, or power. We learn it on our own. Polite girls go on to elegantly suppress the notion, but most know it, and I was nothing if not polite. It was different for Grace. She was a Maxwell. It wasn’t in their nature to suppress things. They blew them up.

An early lesson remains etched in my mind. It was a summer day in 1913. The Maxwells had secured a white clapboard weekly rental on the shores of Elk Lake, tucked among the rolling farmland and evergreen forests of northern Michigan.

The screen door slammed. I shaded my eyes as Uncle Fred crossed a narrow strip of beach, wearing a faded black-and-white-striped bathing costume.

“You’ll burn, Fred,” Aunt Lou clucked from her canvas sling chair under the shade of a lurid yellow umbrella.

Cousin Grace doubled over, shrieking with laughter. “You look like a ghost,” she sputtered. I suppressed my giggles by intently staring at a beached canoe.

Uncle Fred hadn’t brought any alcohol on that vacation.

“It’s called drying out,” Grace had whispered one night after we were tucked away in our shared bed. “The booze turns dusty and blows away … or something.”

I never saw the dust, but for two or three rocky days Uncle Fred kept to his room, scolding us through the door to lower our voices. Then one bright morning, the dust cleared. All breakfast table chatter quieted as he stood at the head of the table, bright-eyed and eager to lead us on bracing outdoor excursions involving tree identification—white pine versus red—campfires, and fish brought home on stringers. I felt sorry for the fish, but they were delicious.

Now, after nodding in acceptance of his daughter’s ribbing, Uncle Fred called to me, “Margot, I’ll see you at the end of the dock.”

I immediately stopped giggling. I had been forbidden from docks and floating canoes because I didn’t know how to swim. At ten years old, I was mortified by this humiliating precaution yet too frightened to do anything constructive about it.

Aunt Lou had dismissed all petulant objections. “The water doesn’t care, child. It’ll drown you all the same.”


About the Author

 

 Karen Thomas Yoo was born and raised in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. She graduated from the University of Michigan and received an MBA from Duke University. When she isn't writing, she can usually be found in her garden or on a paddleboard in Lake Michigan. A mother of three grown children, she lives in Grosse Pointe with her husband. This is her first novel.


Contact Links

Website

Goodreads

Instagram

Facebook


Purchase Link

Amazon




RABT Book Tours & PR

Sunday, July 26, 2026

PROMO: Only Angels Have Blue Eyes

 




Horror / Suspense

Date Published: 08-03-2026



Things are looking up for Maylin Cole and her 4-year-old daughter, Margo. Fleeing an abusive relationship, the private clinic Heaven’s Hope offers shelter and the promise of a new life. Led by the charismatic and beguiling Seraph Nakir, they learn a surprising truth: they’re actually angels who have lost their way.

Everyone has an angel name and is being prepared to ‘ascend’ when the time is right. Their angelic identities will play a significant role in aiding humanity when the world ends.

As the weeks pass, Maylin becomes accustomed to the peculiar confrontational therapy. The black curtains and bars on the windows no longer trouble her. The lack of privacy, mystifying theology, and strange rules become commonplace. She sees Margo less frequently since the children are kept in the basement.

The death of another patient awakens Maylin to dark secrets within the walls, and soon the horrifying truth about Nakir and Heaven’s Hope is revealed. Maylin must confront her insecurities, rediscover her individuality, and use her wits and resources if she hopes to save Margo and the other children.

Inspired by a true crime case, this slow-burn thriller roars to a pulse-pounding climax, reminding the reader to think independently, ask questions, and be careful who you trust.



Excerpt


Maylin stared at Nakir in disbelief. “I…I can’t do this.”

“Administer Uriel’s punishment. Now,” he replied.

Maylin looked at the man’s back as he knelt before the fireplace like a monk at an ancient altar. Then she looked back at Seraph Nakir. “No. N-no way…”

Nakir tilted his head, his dreadlocks falling to one side. He scowled at her. “The injury was against you,” he said. “So, it is only right that you be the one to dispense his punishment.”

She shook her head, eyes still wide, and thrust the poker toward Nakir.

He refused it. “You must, my daughter. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. His bruises for your bruises. Go ahead. Begin.”

“No, no—this isn’t right. It’s not—”

“Carry out the punishment!” Seraph Nakir bellowed, stepping forward to tower over her.

 

About the Author


J. Todd Kingrea is the author of "With A Blighted Touch" and The Deiparian Saga ("The Witchfinder," "The Crimson Fathers," and "Bane of the Witch"). He has also authored two non-fiction books, two short stories, and role-playing game scenarios. When not writing, he enjoys collecting and watching movies, reading, and prowling through dusty old bookstores. He and his wife live in Galax, Virginia.

You can find him online at www.jtoddkingrea.com, on Facebook, X, and Instagram. Stay in touch at jtoddkingrea@yahoo.com.


Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Instagram




RABT Book Tours & PR

PROMO: The False Paradigms of Today and the Timeless Truth of Tomorrow

 




Essays on Meaning


Philosophy/Spirituality

Date Published: 10-01-2025

Publisher: Sketpika Press



Something’s missing in the world today, and maybe it’s been gone for centuries. The problem: most of us don’t have authentic beliefs or a clear path in life.

What do we believe? Whatever they told us to believe.

What do we do? Whatever other people are doing.

How many lies have we welcomed into our lives without having seriously analyzed them?

It’s the reason many of us feel empty inside—there’s nothing there but convenient mistruths, and at some level, we all know it. We then orient our lives based on these false beliefs, wasting our precious limited time among the living striving for goals that leave us ultimately unsatisfied.

The False Paradigms of Today and The Timeless Truth of Tomorrow by John Bliss takes a steak knife to these common delusions with 13 irreverent essays that rip and tear at the foundations of our collective worldview. Little is held sacred to Bliss.


The essays in Part 1: Your Understanding of Reality is More Fabricated Than You Think dispel our delusions one at a time, including:

          • our mistaken belief in progress,
          • our misplaced confidence in our own rational prowess,
          • our loss of personal identity from group identification,
          • our misplaced faith in science as a true representation of the world, and
          • our morality: what it is and where exactly it comes from.

 

After carving away these restrictive untruths, Part 2: An Exploration of Truth Across Historical, Mystical, and Philosophical Dimensions introduces a deeper understanding of humanity based on history, mysticism, psychology and philosophy. Some of the topics in Part 2 include:

          • how our religions became second-rate pathways to God,
          • our reliance on logic and how it warps our decision-making,
          • how idealism can lead to mass murder and tyranny,
          • the overriding importance of history, where we’ve been, where we are going and why,
          • our immaterial connection to all people living and dead—Jung’s collective unconscious, Emerson’s Over-Soul, and Varro’s Soul of the World, and finally
          • the bedrock assumption that we all got wrong. Switch this out, and everything changes.


The essays are filled with stories from history, including meetings of the apostles Paul and Peter with the Emperor Nero and Simon Magus the magician, the mystical transformation of Emmanuel Swedenborg, the nineteenth century German intellectual revolution, the establishment of three French religions worshipping not God but Reason and Humanity, the abdication of the World Teacher, and the genocide of the Tibetan culture.


The book is ideal for seekers of deeper meaning, arm-chair philosophers and historians, and those disillusioned with the emptiness of contemporary thought. Discover why your view of reality may be distorted—and how by changing the one assumption on which your entire world-view is based, everything shifts.

 


About the Author


John Bliss is a writer and thinker fixated on unraveling the mystery of our lives. He is at heart a skeptic, as very few authorities have provided answers that are believable. He distrusts groups of all kinds, as they are no smarter than individuals, who don't know half as much as they think they do. He even distrusts himself, as no human can understand reality.

Some of his major accomplishments include being kicked out of the National Honor Society and the CEO Round Table. He graduated with a bachelor's in History, and a masters degree in mechanical engineering. He founded and grew an engineering company and sold it after 25 years. And of course, he completed his book, The False Paradigms of Today and the Timeless Truth of Tomorrow, after 13 years of research, writing, and rewriting.

To this day, he continues to ask the big questions: Who are we? What’s truly important? How should we live our lives? On most days he thinks he has them figured out.

When he is not writing, he cuts wood and digs ditches. Bliss remains at large somewhere in the mountains of California.


Contact Links

Website

Goodreads


Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Google Play


RABT Book Tours & PR