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Monday, November 10, 2025

Blog Tour: Earth's Last Encore

 




Science Fiction

Date Published : 07-24-2025



Saddled with a dying sun, humanity has no time to catch its breath after barely fighting off alien invaders. A defective yet determined super-soldier, Lieutenant ‘Duck’ Diaz shoulders the task of proving humanity’s worth to the Stellarans, an advanced alien species offering salvation.

Haunted by his failures and mistrusted by those he fights to save, Duck finds an unexpected ally in Hannily, the Stellaran princess who believes in the potential for unity. Together, they must bridge the divide between two fractured worlds, confronting betrayal, cultural rifts, and their own doubts to give humanity a second chance at survival—or risk losing everything to the void.

 


Excerpt

The Girl Beyond the Horizon


The stars had become humanity’s enemy. Their bright futures had
been reduced to a flicker.
Holding this flicker close to his heart, a soldier expelled a chilling
breath through a tight-fitting breathing apparatus and plunged a stake
deep into the freshly dug earth. This makeshift headstone sat at the
tip of a steep drop-off on the edge of a lonely mountain. The wind
raged against the heavy clouds covering the sky. Bittersweet satisfaction
peeked across his face when the headstone didn’t waver amidst
the elements.
He brushed the dirt and dust from his mute black uniform. Then
he snapped his legs together and proudly saluted the grave before him.
“For your sacrifice and victory. You may be gone, but our best is just
beyond the horizon. I’ll…” he paused, contemplating his following
words, feeling their ever-present weight, “…take it from here.” He had
no tears for the dead. Instead, he offered his sweat.
He started walking away from the drop-off, passing many similar
graves.
The communicator on his ear chimed before a young man’s chipper
voice resonated from it. “Out there again, I see.”
The soldier smiled and couldn’t wait to reveal the news. “It’s finally
finished, Julian! I buried the last one.”
“I’m happy for you, Duck. Your dad would be proud seeing what
you’ve done for all of them.”
Duck’s face soured slightly. “He should be buried here, too.”
Julian joked, “The greats find more interesting ways to die.”
“That was him, alright. If only I—”
“Don’t even start. Just do what you can, and things will work out.
They have another mission for ya. Could be something valor worthy.”
“I bet it’s just more stray asteroids.”
“Then it shouldn’t take very long. You can hurry back, and we’ll
celebrate you finishing the memorial. I have some strong stuff I want
to try.”
Duck’s face tightened. “Ugh, no thanks. I’m not trying another
failure in your long line of alcohol experiments. Even a mad scientist
would have quit by now.”
“You baby. Getting sick is part of the drinking experience.”
“Usually preceded by a nice buzz. Not bleeding out the nose.”
“Suit yourself. Call me when you get back. Alcohol or not, I
wanna celebrate.”
“You got it, doc.”
Duck’s earpiece went silent. As the wind died, light came down
onto the gravesite, bringing his uniform to life. Its solid black color
gave way to glimmering silver stripes and a holographic American flag
patch on his right shoulder. On his left was a golden iris insignia. The
sun caught his eyes as he looked up. They were silver and artificial. As
his augmentations adjusted, he bathed in the intense light from the
sun. Earth’s bright yellow star had grown large and ominous.
“Hang in there, big guy. We still need you.” He then called, “Masterpiece,
let’s go!”

 

About the Author


I am a working new father and served in the US Army where I drew inspiration for Earth’s Last Encore. I am a nerd at heart for Anime, Kpop, TCG’s, you name it. When I’m not writing overly introspective work I’m playing with my Corgi and new son. I currently reside in the Minnesota Twin Cities.


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Blog Tour: The Wheels on the Stroller

 



Children's Book

Date Published: 2025

Publisher: Serapis Bey Publishing

Illustrator: Brian Dumm



The Wheels on the Stroller, a fresh adaptation of the well-known song and book, The Wheels on the Bus, invites parents and children on a stroller journey of song, motion, and colorful illustrations. Roll through a variety of neighborhoods meeting delightful creatures and various neighbors in action as the seasons change. Experience being fully present in the moment with your child as you sing and act out each verse. The Stroller kids show readers how to perform each motion! In addition, a picture clue in each illustration signals the next action. The Wheels on the Stroller aims to reawaken the joy and wonder of simple, everyday happenings as seen through the eyes of young children. It seeks to inspire readers to make up verses of their own based on adventurous stroller walks (or wagon walks!) through their neighborhoods.

Ready…Set…Let’s Roll!

 






About the Author


Claudia Kramer Kohlbrenner earned a B.S and an M.Ed. degree in the field of speech-language pathology and she also received extensive training in the teaching of reading. She maintained her American Speech-Language-Hearing Association (ASHA) certification during her 35+ years of teaching and for many years after retirement. Claudia taught mainly in the public schools with students of all ages but primarily with special education and general education students at the preschool and elementary levels.

When teaching at the preschool level, Claudia encouraged busy parents to utilize the time spent carrying out daily routines as language-rich opportunities. Parents were counseled to talk about what was happening in a child’s “here and now” - while getting dressed, brushing teeth, taking a stroller walk! Claudia used available and self-generated rhymes and songs and involved as many bodily senses and movements as possible to facilitate developmental skills in preschoolers. She considers the repetition used in The Wheels on the Bus book and now in The Wheels on the Stroller to be a valuable learning tool for young children. According to early childhood research, repetition reinforces language processing, pattern recognition and a sense of predictability. It also provides children with opportunities to rehearse new sound and word sequences.

After retirement, Claudia’s love of rhyme inspired her to take a few children’s poetry writing classes. She was pleased to have several poems published in “Highlights High Five” and “Highlights” magazines, with two poems also published in children’s anthologies. The joy of reading to her sons long ago and now her grandchildren sparked her desire to write a children’s book as well. One day, after she and her young grandson enthusiastically sang and motioned along with The Wheels on the Bus book, grandma and grandson set out for one of their many adventure-seeking neighborhood stroller walks. As the wheels on his stroller went round and round, they greeted neighbors with tail-wagging dogs, watched squirrels scurry up trees and delighted in the “ding! ding! ding!” of an approaching bicycle along with other encounters- The Wheels on the Stroller was spontaneously born!

 

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PROMO: Invisible Monsters

 



Sci-fi Romance, BDSM, Second Chances

Date Published: November 14, 2025



Can two Rangers find love when they’re haunted by invisible monsters -- inside and out?

 

Earth civilians are obsessed with selfies and social media, but my life revolves around alien starships, superhuman strength, and A.I. implants. Too bad none of it helped when I was captured and tortured. Now I crave revenge, but as a genetically engineered Ranger, I must obey Mothership’s rules: protect humanity. Never kill.

When another alien ship sends monsters to invade Earth, Mothership’s Rangers must stop them. My new Ranger teammate is everything I shouldn’t crave: handsome, skilled, and haunted by his own dark past. He helped rescue me from torture, but it cost him his entire team. Now I’m the mess he’s got to clean up.

 

Battling invisible monsters may be the death of us, but our mutual attraction is undeniable. Can we stop an alien invasion despite our dangerous chemistry?

 



EXCERPT

 

Present Day

Diana

I stared at the screen, watching the Earth grow larger as our transport raced toward it. Even after two months as one of Mothership’s Rangers, the sight reminded me how strange my new life had become. Down there, people were obsessed with selfies, celebrities, and social media. I’d plunged into a world of giant alien starships, AI brain implants, and super-strength.

And worse.

An image flashed through my head -- the sadistic grin on Roger Bannon’s face as he leaned in, the surgical drill whining as it spun. I’d fought not to scream as the drill bit in.

Roger loved it when I screamed.

I shoved away the memory, hard. If I wasn’t careful, that thin face with those pale, rabid eyes would start running through my head on an OCD loop. “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I muttered.

Next to me, Ian Cartwright turned to give me a narrow stare. “What did you say?”

Damnit, Diana, you’re not supposed to creep out your battle buddy. “Bad memories.”

His expression softened, ice-blue eyes going a little less chilly. “I can imagine.”

No, you really can’t. I didn’t say it aloud. Cartwright already thought I was a human hand grenade just waiting for somebody to pull my pin. The team didn’t need that kind of distrust, especially in the middle of an op.

I looked away to see Indra Fox watching me in concern. Crap, I’d even freaked her out. She and our team leader, Rowan Kerr, sat on one of the other bench seats beside the huge oval screens that lined the transport’s curving fuselage.

Indy had been my best friend all my life, my sister in every way but blood. She could read me as if she were telepathic. “Having a flashback?” She tilted her head, long, dark hair swinging around her face, green eyes startling against the silken fall of black. Like me, Indy had a tough, athletic build from the combat and strength training we’d had from the time we could walk. Our dads hadn’t been fooling around.

“I’ve got it handled.”

“Cyberpunk could block those if you’d let him.”

She was right -- my AI brain implant could suppress the firing synapses that triggered those memories. “I’m not going to give Roger the satisfaction.”

Rowan Kerr snorted. “Satisfaction’s the last thing Bannon’s feeling.” Our team leader was even bigger than Cartwright, though his features were less classically handsome, with the rich golden coloring of his Latino heritage. His angular features and intense gaze made him look like he’d escaped a temple in ancient Greece. “If he even thinks about what he did to you, he’ll get a one-way trip to PTSD hell. Pissing Mothership off is never a good idea.”

“She still turned him loose. He could try it again.” That’s why I dreamed of killing him, First Reg or no First Reg. If Bannon was dead, he’d never come back.

Cartwright gave me a frustrated glower. “Newman, he can’t. His conditioning won’t let him. If you violate the First Reg again, you’re going to find out why -- the hard way. You’ve used up the only second chance you get.”

That just pissed me off. “If Mothership had rescued Indra and me when Satan’s Horsemen murdered our --”

“How about not starting a fight in the middle of a mission?” Rowan interrupted. “We’ve got a child and his family to rescue. Preferably before the damn Boars grab them.”

I shut my mouth so fast, my teeth clicked. I’d seen the file photo in Aiden Scott’s dossier. Just eight years old, the kid had huge brown eyes in a pale, round little face under a flyaway mop of dark hair, his grin wide and white and missing a couple of baby teeth.

When Aiden was diagnosed with a high-risk medulloblastoma at age four, doctors treated the brain tumor with surgery, chemo, and radiation. He’d still relapsed three years later. The boy would probably be dead now, except Mothership spotted his family’s medical GoFundMe. She’d sent a Ranger team to the Scott family with an offer to heal Aiden. His parents hadn’t looked a gift miracle in the mouth -- just packed him up and flown off with the Rangers.

Giant alien spaceships are a lot less scary than losing a child.

Mothership’s doctors had infused Aiden’s body with nanotech -- molecule-sized bots that hunted down every cancer cell in his body and killed them all. Then the tech corrected the genetic condition that caused the cancer while healing the damage it had inflicted. He’d been healthy and happy within three months.

But that nanotech also made him a tempting target for the Boarosans who’d invaded the solar system a decade back. The humans whose bodies the Boars used as unwilling hosts were as vulnerable to disease as everyone else, and the aliens wanted to keep their meat suits healthy. That was why they’d ordered the Horsemen to kidnap me, why Bannon and his “researchers” had cut me, scarred me, peeled me so they could watch my tech put me back together. They’d hoped to reverse engineer my nanotech.

They could easily do the same to Aiden. Mothership’s simulations predicted that since I’d escaped, the Boar might well decide to go after the Cured she’d treated.

The idea of that sweet little boy at the mercy of the same aliens who’d given me to Roger…

Rescuing Aiden’s a hell of a lot more important than beefing with my own team. Better mend some fences.

I gave Ian a tight nod. “Sorry for going off on you, Cartwright. Rowan’s right -- an op isn’t the time to get pissy.”

He studied me thoughtfully. Rangers were universally attractive -- Mothership’s genetic engineering at work -- but Ian was even more gorgeous than the typical agent. His face was intensely masculine, all high cheekbones and square jaw, his nose aquiline, his mouth wide, with a lower lip I longed to nibble. He wore his sable hair in a severe style that made him look even harder, sexier, but it was his eyes that pulled me in. An icy blue, they were ringed and rayed in a rich cobalt, watchful and cool. People tend to dismiss a man that pretty, but Cartwright was also six-five and built like an NFL defensive lineman. As one of Mothership’s Rangers, he was even more dangerous than he looked.

“I started it.” His voice rumbled in a way that made me yearn to exchange more than snark with him. “Shouldn’t have poked the wound. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just… start over, okay? The point is getting Aiden and his family to safety.”

His nod was tight and controlled, like everything else about the man. “Works for me.”

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades, Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police department.


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Friday, November 7, 2025

Blog Tour: The Lavender Blade

 

 


M/M Romantasy

Date Published: Jul 8, 2025

Publisher: She Writes Press

Narrator: Nicholas Boulton

Run Time: 10 hours



Colton and Lucian make a living conning the desperate with fake exorcisms—Lucian is the charm, Colton the trick, and together, they’ve turned deception into survival. Their work is dangerous, their romance even riskier, but they’ve always found a way to stay ahead.

Until Lucian is truly possessed.

A powerful demon takes hold, twisting his body into something unnatural, horrific, wrong—and no priest, no con, no desperate lie can fix it. With time running out and Lucian slipping further away, Colton has no choice but to learn real magic, break every rule, and attempt the impossible.

Because if he fails, Lucian won’t just be lost. He’ll be something else entirely.

 

 



About the Author

E.L. Deards grew up in New York City and earned her undergraduate degree at Barnard College at Columbia University, where she studied Japanese literature and biology. She was then accepted to The University of Edinburgh, where she completed her veterinary degree. She remained in the UK afterward, and since then has split her time between her day job as a vet and her truest passion: writing. Emma has authored a number of humor articles for In Practice, a veterinary magazine, and was the recipient in college of two writing awards: the Oscar Lee Award and the Harumatsuri Award. Her first book, Wild with All Regrets, came out in 2023.

 

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Blog Tour: Stealing from Wizards - Vol. IV: Arson by Ryan Consell

 




Stealing from Wizards


JUVENILE FICTION / Fantasy / General

Date Published: 11-04-2025




In Stealing from Wizards Vol. IV: Arson, Kuro (a ½ lutin, ½ wizard teenager) remains at Avalon Academy for more magical mayhem, reluctant heroism, and poorly-timed duels. Trapped on the Academy’s island for a summer of make-up classes, he stumbles into a dangerous mystery that could reshape the world. Between dodging dragons, unraveling conspiracies, and baking cookies for creatures, Kuro must confront who he is—and who he wants to be. As the new school year begins, old enemies rise and magical chaos spreads, Kuro’s past and future collide in a final adventure that’s as heartwarming as it is exciting.

 



Excerpt


He had been looking for the dragon somewhere in the room. But the dragon was the room. Kuro had to spin to take her all in.

Her body circled the cavern three times, a serpentine form interrupted only briefly by four muscular limbs. What he had initially believed were crystalline formations on the walls of the cave were her scales. Each one was like a cut gem: a scalloped, polished, iridescent jewel—shimmering like the veil in the light of the glowing gold. Together, the overlapping scales formed a mosaic of blues and greens, whites and reds, like swirls of ocean currents wrestling with flowers in the wind.

Her head, he was not prepared for and found himself disbelieving it even as he gazed into her astonishing eyes. Her irises were a landscape of gold, copper, and bronze ridges around vertical slitted pupils of perfect black, bottomless wells of darkness. Scaled lips were pulled back to expose a menacing grin of curved, pointed, interlocking teeth, each easily as long as he was tall. Twisting elegant horns gave her a crown of ivory spirals, and a frill of extra-long scales about her neck looked almost like a lion’s mane made of cut glass.

She was magnificent, monstrous, beautiful, and incomprehensibly large.

Unlike the stuffed and mounted dragon heads he had seen displayed by wizards—tiny, ugly, vicious in comparison—her face was full of life and expression. She appeared amused, curious, perhaps a little mischievous.

“I understand wizards to be quite dangerous,” she said, her thoughts crashing through Kuro’s mind like a stampede of elephants.

Then, faster than anything that large had any right to be, she pounced, her face stopping mere feet from him, her muzzle occupying his entire field of view. “Should I be afraid?”


About the Author


Aside from writing, Ryan Consell is a teacher of science and mathematics, stage actor, armorer, and nerd culture activist. His work has been featured on io9, Kotaku, Boingboing, MTV Geek, madartlab.com and in Game Developer Magazine. He is an internationally acclaimed theorist on the science of fiction. He has consulted on such titles as "The Science of Game of Thrones," spoken at events including DragonCon and Convergence, and partnered with the American Chemical Society. He employs his background in materials science and engineering to overthink fictional physics and to make science more accessible to the public. Ryan was born and raised near Toronto. He has lived and worked in Tokyo and Vancouver, but currently calls Ontario home.


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Blog Tour: Snoodles in Space: Escape from Zoodletraz

 



Children's Book

Date Published: October 28, 2025

Publisher: Enigami Publishing



Strap in, because the Snoodles are back and things are about to get… weird. In this third out-of-this-world adventure, Droodle the Poodle and Doo Doo Kidoodle are in big trouble. They’ve broken the one rule on planet Zoodle — no pets. Now Droodle and another poodle named Schmoodle are locked up in Zoodletraz, the most escape-proof prison, this side of the Milky Way. Think Alcatraz, but with more tentacles and fewer lawyers.

Enter a cast of brilliantly bonkers heroes: noodle-powered scientists, intergalactic musicians, talking cats with trash can drum kits, and a villain so cranky he reads self-help books about revenge. There’s also a Jalapeño Popadoodle Noodle, a flying Balloonadoodle, and something called a Cloakadoodle Swoodle Car. Don't ask, just roll with it.

This wackadoodle tale is packed with vibrant art, making it perfect for young and old readers who love silly stories, bold visuals, and absolutely zero boring parts.

Whether your kid’s obsessed with noodles, aliens, or saying the word “Groodle” over and over again, Snoodles in Space: Escape from Zoodletraz! is the laugh-out-loud ride you’ve been waiting for.

Time to get ready for your NEXT GREAT ESCAPE!

 





 


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Blog Tour: The Well-Tempered Violinist

 




Book 1 of The Gift

 

Historical Fiction

Date to be Published: November 5, 2025

Publisher: Acorn Publishing


Marthe Adler dreams of making history as a great violinist. But in 1905 Germany, tradition and deep-seated prejudice against women musicians stand in her way. To make matters worse, her beloved father’s sudden death shatters her family’s comfortable life, pushing them to the edge of poverty.

But the violin Marthe’s father left her is a constant reminder of the profound bond between them, and it gives her the strength to begin healing. When the Köln Conservatory offers her an unexpected scholarship, she seizes her chance to reach for excellence.

Under the rigorous tutelage of Professorin Wolff, and subjected to predatory harassment by a fellow student determined to destroy both her self-worth and her chances of success, Marthe quickly learns she will need more than motivation and talent to rise to the top.

Filled with heart, wit, and music, The Well-Tempered Violinist is an enduring coming-of-age tale about an artist striving for greatness against enormous odds.

 



Excerpt

MARCH 1909


Haydn’s Symphony No. 50 is a pleasure, as any Haydn is. But even in rehearsal I always get a chill from the ominous opening phrases of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, like an announcement of impending doom out of a clear blue sky. The rest of the Fifth is, in Anni’s phrase, like riding a tiger. Beethoven tears his themes apart, hurls the fragments back and forth between sections, and reassembles them, over and over again in his titanic struggle from darkness toward light. It’s even more exhilarating to play than it is to hear, over half an hour of tumultuous, relentless drama.

Wagner, on the other hand, even early on, abandoned melodic structure, while Dvořák filtered the American tunes he heard through his Czech sensibilities and came up with something neither entirely Czech nor entirely American, but certainly not German.

I wanted to learn about music beyond Germany. I’m getting my wish and working hard for it. If Orchestra were always like this, I might not be looking forward to our next quartet quite so much.

Early on I hear whispers from a few other students in our section and notice a few strange looks. No one challenges the seating chart, however, and it’s not as though I stole the seat out from under someone else. Besides, as rehearsals progress, everyone behind me can see I know what I’m doing. I always arrive early, I have the music under my fingers, I ask intelligent questions, and I’m polite to everyone. After a few weeks, the novelty of my presence at the front of the section wears off and, much to my relief, other topics of gossip take my place.

I keep my head down and concentrate on getting the phrasing and mood of the Wagner Polonia Overture.

***

Saint-Saëns, too, is proving a different sort of challenge. The Wolff knows more than she let on about French style and essence and she approves of Robert. Still, he inevitably comes in for his share of the Wolff’s special treatment.

“Herr MacInness, I will blindfold you!” she snaps during our second rehearsal. “You are too fond of looking at your hands. Keep your eyes on the violinist! Your fingers must know where they belong without your eyes for help.”

I, on the other hand, endure a large dose of remedial instruction in French essence.

“The bow must always caress the strings, even at volume,” she says. “The French attack must be as authoritative as the German, but the passion is different. The French are always singing. They are always in love. It is the chief reason they lost the Franco-Prussian War.”

Robert loses his place as he tries to keep from laughing.

“You didn’t tell me she had a sense of humor,” he says afterward as we head down the stairs.

“I didn’t know,” I say.

I can’t worry about our slow progress at this point. Orchestra, plus the Wolff’s other assignments, take first priority. After our orchestra concert in April, that will be the time to devote myself to Saint-Saëns.

Still, by the middle of term we have the skeleton of the sonata down. The Wolff makes us take it apart measure by measure and reassemble it, refining, searching for meaning, seeking deeper nuance. I begin to understand the singing attack. I wonder idly if I’d grasp it more easily if I’d ever been in love. Since I haven’t, and since that’s unlikely to change before June, I’ll have to get it through extra practice instead.

One night, I’m working over the slow second movement at home in my bedroom. It has deep emotional resonance, but mostly I’m wrestling with the trouble spots, repeating them over and over, then starting from the beginning and trying to play it all the way through. I happen to glance up at the photograph of my father I kept for myself after he died. In those first awful months, I held this photograph by the hour, memorizing his features, which mine resemble, his expression of gentle, amused earnestness, the way he combed his hair, the weave of his necktie. Since I began at the Conservatory, I haven’t looked at it as much, but now I pick it up and study it again.

We contemplate each other for a long time, my father and I. It’s not that I don’t think of him anymore; he’s present for me, always, in his violin, if I’m aware enough to feel him. I sense him here with me now, through his photograph. I think of the happiness he would have felt in my progress, the encouragement he would have given me when I needed courage, how, when I’ve felt overwhelmed, he would have said, Of course, you can do it. Just keep working. It will come.

I think of how much he loved me. How much I loved him. How much I still love him, though his easy smile and even temper are frozen in this picture, where I can’t reach them. My eyes sting, not with the raw grief that consumed me in the beginning, but because of the bond we share now between us, a bond that no one, and no amount of time, can break.


About the Author


Retired architect Barbara Thornburgh Carlton is an author of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. Though not a musician, she remains music-adjacent as a volunteer for the San Diego Opera and the Orcas Island Chamber Music Festival in Washington. The mother of two grown children who are remarkably considerate about keeping in touch, she lives in San Diego, California, with her photographer husband, Barry.

The Well-Tempered Violinist, Book 1 of The Gift series, is her first novel.

 

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