Pages

Wednesday, April 1, 2026

Blog tour: Circus Bim Bom

 

 


A Cold War Adventure


Historical Fiction/Cold War Fiction w/romance subplots

Date Published: 03-01-2026

Publisher: Bim Bom Books



There are no accidents in life, only opportunities wearing different clothes."

When the first privately owned Soviet circus arrived in 1990 America as the Soviet Empire unraveled, its elite performers expected to build cultural bridges through spectacular shows. Instead, this prestigious troupe faced a perilous journey through Cold War America.

Circus director Yuri had to navigate treacherous waters where American mobsters, Soviet agents, and political forces circled like predators. Young aerialist Anton dreamed of becoming a clown against his family's wishes, while forbidden romances and unexpected connections bloomed between Soviet performers and Americans who saw past the ideological divide. As high-stakes conspiracies threatened to tear the circus family apart, they had to choose between the authoritarian chains of home and the uncertain promise of freedom.

As The Ringmaster reminds us, "The best Soviet stories are like vodka—they burn with suffering, intoxicate with conflict, keep you stewing in reflection, and yearning for your heart's desire." This genre-bending tale explores whether human connection can transcend ideology—and whether storytelling can bridge the divides that separate us.

 


Excerpt

The Clown Alcove

Chapter 3 — November 1989, Moscow Circus Museum

Note to host: This excerpt is self-contained. Anton and Josef are teenage circus students on a school field trip. Anton harbors a secret dream of becoming a clown, something his father, a respected aerialist, would consider a disgrace.

Anton lingered in the clown alcove while his classmates moved on.

A cordoned-off table displayed a lifelike head of Oleg Popov, the “Sunny Clown,” under a glass dome with an open window. Anton recognized Popov—his favorite—and felt a sudden urge to touch the uncanny likeness. Sharp and oddly realistic.

He slipped behind the velvet rope, wondering if someone had embalmed Popov’s head.

The head featured his signature skewed checkered cap pinned with a white silk chrysanthemum, a bright yellow wig, and a red nose. He wore a gentle smile, and his eyes were—wait! Anton thought he saw Popov’s eyes blink. It happened so fast, he wasn’t sure. His heartbeat quickened.

Anton figured his imagination was deceiving him—that the clown alcove atmosphere was playing tricks on him. Anton lingered. Popov’s smile felt like an invitation. He remained still, but nothing happened, so he admired the other clown displays. However, Popov’s eyes seemed to follow him. He walked back and forth in front of the bust; sure enough, the eyes appeared to track his movements. He called out to Josef, but the class had already headed to the auditorium.

Popov’s eyes stared straight ahead. Anton leaned over the rope to inspect them; they looked watery. He ducked under the velvet rope and peered under the table skirt. In a blur, someone yanked him under the table, and a hand covered his mouth.

“Shhh,” whispered a painted face, finger to lips. Stunned, Anton complied, and the stranger removed his hand.

Who is this guy? He was crouched under the table, in blue overalls and a striped shirt. Aside from white greasepaint around his eyes and the fact he was hiding under the table, he appeared normal.

“You’re a very clever fellow,” the man remarked.

Anton caught his breath. “Who are you, and why are you inside Popov’s head?”

“Fair questions. My name is Tikhonov Tikosander Shevchenko, but my friends call me Tiko. Come to think of it, even my enemies call me Tiko. But of course, I am a clown.” He held out his hand for a handshake. BUZZZ. The slight shock from the hand prank startled Anton.

“I am so sorry.” Tiko grinned. “I forgot I had that on. Here, take it.” He handed the palm buzzer to Anton.

Tiko settled in with his new friend. “To answer your question, I’m workshopping my new Popov table prop. What better place to try it out than at this clown exhibit? What do you think?”

“Well, it’s kind of creepy,” Anton admitted, unable to suppress a grin. “But I love it.”

Tiko’s painted eyes twinkled. “That is what I was going for.”

Josef returned, looking for his lost friend.

“Hey, Anton. Where’d you go?” he whispered as he walked around the table, assuming Anton was loitering in the alcove. “Hey, Kalinski is asking for you. She sent me to find you. Come on, we’re headed to the animal enclosures. You don’t want to miss the big cats, right?”

Anton was about to scurry out, but Tiko yanked him down, put a finger to his lips, pulled out a white grease paint marker, and applied the paint around Anton’s eyes. Tiko pointed up, and Anton nodded, lifting into Popov’s head. From there, he saw Josef circling the table and peering around the gallery panels.

“Anton, come on. Kalinski’s losing her patience,” Josef said in an urgent whisper.

Anton tracked Josef’s movements through Popov’s eyes, a thrill of mischief surging through him. His heart thudded in his chest. The momentary claustrophobia quickly gave way to excitement. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. So, this is what it must feel like.

Josef circled the table once more, oblivious to Anton’s ruse. “Okay, I’m not getting in trouble; this one is on you,” he said as he started down the hall. His shoulders slumped with a mixture of frustration and resignation—he was tired of covering for Anton but wasn’t ready to abandon his friend, either.

“Yo, Josef, wait!” Anton called out. Josef froze and then spun around.

“Anton, cut it out, man; this is not funny.”

Anton put Josef out of his misery. “Hey, Josef. Look at Popov.”

Josef peered at Popov’s face. “What about it?”

“Look at his eyes.” Anton crossed his eyes, and Josef jumped back, nearly knocking over a display panel.

Grinning from ear to ear, Anton climbed out from under the table, and they both burst into laughter.

As Anton turned toward Tiko, who had just re-entered Popov’s head, he gave a parting wave. Tiko responded with a wink.

Josef and Anton were still giggling when they caught up with their classmates. Anton still had white greasepaint circling his eyes.

Kalinski turned beet red. “Anton and Josef, stop clowning around!” Unaware of her pun.

At that, Anton and Josef collapsed into convulsive laughter. Tears streamed down their cheeks, and mucus ran from their noses. Anton struggled to breathe. They averted their eyes from each other but couldn’t resist. Each glance triggered another uncontrollable burst of laughter and tears. Josef nudged Anton with his elbow, and Anton, still gasping for breath, wiped the sweat from his face, squeezing his eyes shut.

Katyana stood over them, glaring in rebuke. “You two are hopeless.” This only made them laugh harder, and she stormed off in frustration. Beneath her irritation flickered something else—a twinge of envy at their easy camaraderie, their freedom to be foolish without the weight of legacy on their shoulders.

They knew they were in trouble and considered throwing themselves at Kalinski’s mercy, but it didn’t matter if she exiled them to Siberia; they were struggling to breathe.

“Wait outside the animal enclosure,” Kalinski ordered. “We’ll discuss this at school. Anton, I’m having lunch with your mother tomorrow—we’ll have much to talk about.”

Anton’s stomach dropped. What if my father finds out? His father claimed clowns were dreamers, not real performers. But at that moment, Anton felt it in his bones—his future wasn’t in the air, but in the ring, making people laugh. Class dismissed.


About the Author

 

 Cliff Lovette is a father, storyteller, and dog lover living in Sandy Springs, Georgia. For over 40 years, he practiced entertainment law, serving as Senior Vice President at LaFace Records and representing artists including Usher and Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes. His passion for bridging historical divides led him to co-produce a groundbreaking reconciliation event between descendants of Buffalo Soldiers and Lakota Native Americans. In 1990, when Bobby Liberman—road manager for the first privately owned Soviet circus touring America—became his client, Cliff discovered the true story that inspired this debut duology.


Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Goodreads

TikTok: @ringmaster606

YouTube: @TheRingmaster-n7y


Purchase Links


Author's Edition 

books.by/bim-bom-books 

The Author's Edition comes with:

• Signed bookplate

• Digital circus poster

• Charter Bim Bom Book Club Membership

• Exclusive access to "Rabbit Hole" chapters


eBook and Paperback

Amazon





RABT Book Tours & PR

No comments:

Post a Comment