Monday, October 5, 2026

Book Tour ~ Delaware Keepers - Life at the Edge of the Sea by Dave Tabler

 


 

Book Details:

Book Title:  Delaware Keepers / Life at the Edge of the Sea by Dave Tabler
Category: Adult Non-Fiction, 224 pages
Genre: History
Publisher: Dave Tabler
Publication Date: June 1, 2026
Content Rating: G: no bad language, no sex scenes


Book Description:


Delaware Keepers is a bottom-up social history of the men and women who tended Delaware's lighthouses from the colonial beacon at Cape Henlopen in 1769 through the automation era of the 1940s. Its central argument is a deliberate inversion of a familiar image. The popular lighthouse keeper—the bearded hermit slowly losing his sanity in storm-battered isolation—is, in Tabler's words, "dead wrong." Drawing on newspaper archives, government and inspection records, and family papers, the book reconstructs keeping not as a story of madness and solitude but of community, family life, civic engagement, and quiet professionalism.

The book opens on its thesis in miniature: keeper George W. Duncan celebrating his 37th wedding anniversary at the Port Penn Range Light in 1907, surrounded by forty guests and a brass band—a federal employee at the center of community life rather than its lonely edge. Delaware's compact geography makes the case plausible: short coastline, numerous inland waterways, and stations often within walking distance of town, with even offshore posts like Fourteen Foot Bank deliberately crewed by three men to forestall the very isolation the myth romanticizes. Tabler doesn't flatten the picture, though—remote, icebound posts like Mahon's Light and Reedy Island could genuinely isolate, and the work carried real risk from storms, wrecks, and accidents.

Across sixteen chapters organized into five chronological parts, the narrative traces keeping as it emerged as an occupation, matured into a respected federal career, and then vanished under automation:

  • Founding the Lights (1769–1850s) — colonial origins, John and Elizabeth Dickerson at the first Cape Henlopen beacon, and Abraham Hargis writing desperate letters to Thomas Jefferson about inadequate pay.
  • Forging a Network (1850s–1880s) — the lights through the Civil War and the professionalization of keeping into a genuine career.
  • The Golden Age of Keeping (1880s–1940s) — the profession at its height, its costs, and its public visibility.
  • The End of an Era (1940s–1970s) — automation and the disappearance of the resident keeper.
  • Preserving the Legacy (1970s–present) — how families and communities carry the memory forward.


The human thread runs throughout: Hannah Hill dragging a boat across broken ice to fetch a doctor for her ailing husband; Irvin and Janie Lynch raising eight children at Mahon's Light; the Spencer children at Liston Range, for whom a station with no plumbing or central heat was simply home. The closing chapters turn to memory itself—how granddaughter Penny Czerwinski turns Dorothy Lynch Morris's recollections into classroom presentations (complete with Toby, the coal-chute-riding pig), and how preservation has shifted from maintaining structures to transmitting living culture.

Beyond maritime history, the book frames larger questions: how skilled occupations earn legitimacy and respect, what happens to experienced workers when technology renders them "unnecessary," how communities lose institutional memory when federal employees vanish from daily life, and why we mythologize obsolete professions while forgetting the people who actually performed them. It positions itself not as a technical catalog of lighthouses—those exist—but as a recovery of the keepers as real, embedded, civic human beings.

Buy the Book:
Amazon ~ Audible ~ B&N  
Broadway Books ~ BAM
add to goodreads


Meet the Author:

Ten year old Dave Tabler decided he was going to read the 'R' volume from the family's World Book Encyclopedia set over summer vacation. He never made it from beginning to end. He did, however, become interested in Norman Rockwell, rare-earth elements, and Run for the Roses.

Tabler's father encouraged him to try his hand at taking pictures with the family camera. With visions of Rockwell dancing in his head, Tabler press-ganged his younger brother into wearing a straw hat and sitting next to a stream barefoot with a homemade fishing pole in his hand. The resulting image was terrible.

Dave Tabler went on to earn degrees in art history and photojournalism despite being told he needed a 'Plan B.'

Fresh out of college, Tabler contributed the photography for "The Illustrated History of American Civil War Relics," which taught him how to work with museum curators, collectors, and white cotton gloves. He met a man in the Shenandoah Valley who played the musical saw, a Knoxville fellow who specialized in collecting barbed wire, and Tom Dickey, brother of the man who wrote 'Deliverance.'

In 2006 Tabler circled back to these earlier encounters with Appalachian culture as an idea for a blog. AppalachianHistory.net today reaches 375,000 readers a year.

Dave Tabler moved to Delaware in 2010 and became smitten with its rich past. He no longer copies Norman Rockwell, but his experience working with curators and collectors came in handy when he got the urge to photograph a love letter to Delaware's early heritage.

It turned out to be the start of something. Tabler has since written Delaware Before the Railroads, Delaware from Railways to Freeways, Delaware from Freeways to E-Ways, Delaware at Christmas, Delaware Behaving Badly, and Delaware Keepers.

connect with the author: website ~ X ~ facebook ~ pinterest ~ instagram ~ goodreads



Tabler

Book Tour ~ The Antique Picker's Daughter - A Novel by Melanie Dugan

 

 



Book Details:

Book Title:  The Antique Picker's Daughter by Melanie Dugan
Category:  Adult Fiction (18+),  250 pages
Genre: general fiction, literary fiction
Publisher: Inanna Publications & Education Inc.
Release date:  September 2026
Content Rating: PG-13 + M: because of mature themes (youth homelessness and human trafficking), and physical abuse, some rough language.  
Book Description:

“The first thing you need to know: They’re not antiques.
The second thing you need to know: I’m not his daughter.”


Abandoned first by her father, and then by her mother, Frankie has been left in the care of her deeply religious grandmother. When her grandmother’s religious convictions tip into delusion, Frankie decides to run away.

Life on the street in Toronto is hard, and with winter coming, it gets tougher. This is when Frankie first meets Francis, a man old enough to be her father. He starts training her in “the game,” as she comes to call it; buying, stealing, and reselling “inventory” at inflated prices. Through winter, spring, and early summer, the two become a team, traveling around small towns and villages in southern Ontario.

As Frankie discovers, life on the road holds dangers she can’t anticipate, and her precarious world tips into disaster when Francis abandons her in an unfamiliar town. Betrayed, alone, and deserted, Frankie realizes she’s in a dangerous situation — will she be able to find her way out on her own?

The Antique Picker’s Daughter explores youth homelessness, human trafficking, and one young woman’s search for safety.
BUY THE BOOK:
INANNA 
Amazon ~ B&N 
Indigo
add to goodreads
Melanie Dugan is the author of Sometime Daughter (“A stunning debut,” The Kingston Whig-Standard), Revising Romance (“…heartwarming, amusing, and…downright sexy,” Midwestern Book Review), Dead Beautiful (“Artful and funny,” Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer), Bee Summers (“…a carefully wrought portrayal of the way we carry trauma with us through life,” Brenda Schmidt, Quill & Quire), and Hard White (“It is a very compelling and beautifully-crafted story…I highly recommend it,” Skeleton Press). 
She lived in Boston, Toronto and London, England, before settling in Kingston, Ontario, where she now lives.

She has worked in libraries and bookstores, and was Associate Publisher at Quarry Press in Kingston, and also served as Managing Editor for Poetry Canada, Quarry Magazine and Canadian Fiction Magazine. 

In 2009 she was promotions director for the inaugural Kingston WritersFest.
She has studied writing with Leon Rooke, Keath Fraser, Kim Moritsugu, Helen Humphreys and Anita Rau Badami.

Her short stories have been shortlisted for several awards including the CBC Literary Award.

connect with the author: website ~ facebook ~ goodreads





Book Blitz ~ The Academy War by Sean Scarborough

 

The Academy War
Sean Scarborough
Publication date: October 1st 2026
Genres: Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

Three colleges, three hearts, one prophesy that will either save magic or destroy it.

On their eighteenth birthdays, three strangers are ripped from ordinary life and thrust into a hidden world that has shaped history for centuries.

Aryna awakens a rare, volatile magic that doesn’t just channel power — it absorbs and reshapes it. At the Mage War College, her dangerous gift sets her apart and draws the secret attention of those with their own agendas.

Paul is claimed by an ancient vampire bloodline and forced into brutal trials where dominance means survival. As his humanity slips away, he realizes he’s being forged into a weapon for a war older than he knows.

Dean Blackthorn, an orphan desperate to belong, bonds with a powerful Stormwing dragon in trials where most recruits die. For the first time, he has a place — and a destiny tied to coming conflict.

Separated across rival academies, each believes they are training to protect their own kind. But when a devastating attack shatters the illusion of safety, a darker truth emerges:

They are not just students. They are pieces in a game controlled by an ancient power now awakening — and the fate of magic, monsters, and humanity may rest on who learns to control it first.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

—

CHAPTER 1:

The Wish

Aryna

“Look, Aryna,” my mom said, setting down the lopsided chocolate cake she’d clearly stayed up late making—complete with uneven frosting and slightly smudged Happy 18th Birthday written in shaky pink letters—her cheerfulness seemed forced.

“Let’s try to make today as fun as we can,” she said.

I love my mom, I really do, but sometimes she drives me absolutely crazy.

“Honey, I’m not upset you were out with your friends last night. I just wanted to know where you were.”

“Disappointed, then,” I said, unable to keep the snark out of my voice.

“Aryna!” She gave me that look, the one that said I was pushing boundaries we both knew I shouldn’t cross.

Mom walked around our tiny dining table, probably to avoid saying something she’d regret. She worked two jobs while Dad pulled night shifts, and they could barely make ends meet despite doing everything they could for me. I knew that.

Knowing they were doing their best didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

All my hard work, school, science fair wins- everything my parents had always told me they were proud of yet it had come with the same quiet disappointment. They were always proud. They just weren’t always there.

I remembered the state championship for English literature, my best subject. I had stood at the front of the auditorium, looking out at the crowd while the other students’ names appeared on handmade signs. Their parents cheered, waved, and called their names.

I scanned the room anyway.

Just hoping I’d see Mom and Dad.

A smile. A wave. Anything that said, We’re here. We’re proud of you!

The last question was asked. “Who wrote The Divine Comedy”

Easy. I hit the button “Dante Alighieri,” one of my favorites.

Then I won first place.

I should have been excited, and I was. But there was a sadness underneath it, knowing I was experiencing it alone.

When it was over, I put the trophy in my backpack and went home.

It wasn’t that they were bad parents. They weren’t. They were busy. They were always cheering for me when they had the time—late at night, early in the morning, whenever our schedules happened to line up.

Just not in the moments when I wanted them there most.

Our apartment was so cramped, the dining room table took up most of the kitchen-dining room combo, leaving barely enough space to walk around it. On nights like this, with tension thick in the air, it felt even smaller. I could feel the frustration steaming from me.

I looked down at the table. The chocolate cake sat in front of me, eighteen candles flickering in the dim light of our cramped apartment kitchen. Mom’s face glowed with pride across the table, her tired eyes momentarily free of worry lines. Dad stood beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders, a rare moment of peace between them. Arguments about money were what I normally heard.

“Make a wish, Aryna,” Mom said.

I closed my eyes, feeling oddly self-conscious. Eighteen. A legal adult as of today, I felt no different than yesterday. What did one wish for when standing at the threshold of adulthood? College acceptance letters had already come and gone—mostly rejections with two waitlists. My part-time job barely covered gas money.

I wish for something extraordinary to happen, I thought, surprising myself with the childish desire. Something to make me special.

I leaned forward to blow out the candles.

Author Bio:

Sean Scarborough is the author of The Academy War, a young adult/new adult urban paranormal fantasy that blends magic, dragon riders, vampires, and unforgettable adventure. Although this is his debut novel, storytelling has been a passion of his for years.

Inspired by a love of immersive fantasy and the belief that books can transport readers beyond the ordinary, Sean set out to create a world that feels as real as the one we live in—a place readers can return to whenever they need an escape.

The Academy War was written through both the best and most challenging seasons of Sean’s life. Throughout that journey, writing became more than a creative outlet; it became a way to build a world filled with hope, courage, friendship, and wonder.

Sean writes from the heart, believing every character carries a purpose. Some become a source of hope, others a promise, a reminder, or a heartbreaking loss—but each one is meant to leave a lasting impression. Every scene and adventure was created with the hope that readers would become fully immersed in the story and feel connected to the people and places within it.

Seeing this world come to life and finally sharing it with readers is a dream Sean has held for years.

He hopes The Academy War is more than just a book—that it becomes a place readers can get lost in, return to again and again, and carry with them long after they turn the final page.

Website / Instagram / Facebook / TikTok / Newsletter


GIVEAWAY!

The Academy War Blitz

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Book Blitz ~ Family is Family - A Blue Spruce Hills Novella by E. D. Hackett

 

Family is Family
E.D. Hackett
(A Blue Spruce Hills Novella)
Publication date: October 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

She’s living the dream, but it’s not her own. Can this devoted divorcee pave her own path despite her irresponsible ex?

Violet McFadden is a helper at heart. Tired from co-parenting four teenage girls and co-owning a bookstore with their disorganized father, this dedicated forty-five-year-old can’t seem to get five minutes to herself. And she’s worried when her rent skyrockets, fearing their struggling business is doomed.

An upcoming Thanksgiving 5k road race may temporarily save the store, but the conscientious shopkeeper knows deep down that she’d rather be teaching children than managing the shop. As time marches on, an unexpected snowstorm, urgent teenage fires, and her own overprotective motherly drive keep her firmly rooted in the past.

Will Violet keep only her former spouse’s dream alive, or will she choose herself and her true calling?

Family is Family is a heart-warming standalone piece of the multi-author women’s fiction Blue Spruce Hills Novella Series. If you enjoy characters who are never too old to start over, complex families, and tight-knit communities, then you’ll adore E.D. Hackett’s charming story.

Buy Family is Family to rekindle soul-inspiring goals today!

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

At five o’clock, I closed the shop to dash to Ivy’s scrimmage. When I arrived, I found Reid surrounded by two of our four daughters. Forcing my most enthusiastic smile, I climbed over familiar faces, settling between my seventeen-year-old daughter, Willow, and my twelve-year-old daughter, Daisy.

Reid gave a small smile and a slight wave before scooting closer to Daisy to make room for my large satchel.

“You missed it, Mom,” Willow said. My eldest tilted closer, her long strawberry-blonde hair hanging to her elbows, framing the freckles dotting her makeup-free cheeks.

I leaned forward, keeping my eyes on Ivy. “Missed what?”

“She opened the game with a three-pointer.”

My stomach dropped. I should have been there, and I knew she knew I wasn’t. My thoughts moved to Reid and how he had put us in this situation with his wanting a divorce, but still wanting me to help with the store. He was the one who had wanted out and needed a change, yet here I was, missing out on another important moment in my daughter’s life.

I glowered at him, but he was on his feet, clapping for Ivy’s friend who had just hit a free throw.

I turned my smile on and waved to Ivy, who looked away with irritated eyes. Shoot. She definitely knows I wasn’t there.

“How was your day?” I asked Willow.

“Great. I had practice with Riley, and she thinks I’ll be ready for pit auditions for the musical.” Riley O’Connor had been teaching my girls piano for nearly a decade.

Willow, the most studious of the four, worried me with her need to overachieve. Maybe it was because we had left her in charge of her sisters when we reopened the business after Covid five years ago. She was twelve, and Daisy, the youngest, was just seven.

“That’s wonderful! Good luck with auditions. Next week?” I raised my eyebrows at her.

“Yeah. Oh, and Riley asked if Daisy’s lesson could be rescheduled. I can’t remember the day.”

“Sure, I’ll call her.” I looked at Daisy, immersed in her coloring book, first outlining the images and then lightly shading the inside. The spitting image of her father, I recognized the Roman nose and always rounded eyebrows, emoting an element of surprise regardless of the situation.

Across the gym, Ivy guzzled water, and Mari, my fourteen-year-old, strolled across the backside of the opposite bleachers. “Where’s Mari going?”

“Probably to see Dillon.” Willow tipped her head as my eyes followed her to a tall, athletic-looking boy with a curly mop of acorn-hued hair.

“Who’s that? I haven’t heard that name before.” I watched my daughter return his hug, and her nose pressed into his shoulder.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Mom, where have you been? They’ve been talking for a while.”

The sight of Dillon’s rather full goatee prickled my skin, and I raised my eyebrows. “How old is he?”

“A junior. He’s in Ivy’s classes.”

Leaning back, I tried to get Reid’s attention, but he was absorbed in his phone screen, looking at who-knows-what.

“A junior?”

“Mom, he’s harmless.”

“Does he drive?”

“Not that I know of, but I don’t keep tabs on him.”

“He’s closer to your age than hers. She’s a freshman. He probably drives. I don’t like it.” I held up my hands to rephrase my sentiment. “I’m sure he’s a nice boy, but he’s too old for her.”

Willow shrugged. “Mom, he’s new to school this year. He’s probably figuring out where he fits in.”

I touched her leg and gazed into her eyes. “You would tell me if he wasn’t good for her, right?”

“Yes. Believe it or not, he’s in honors classes and plays varsity soccer. Ivy and I have done our research. He’s harmless. Nothing is going on between them. They’re just talking.”

I rolled my shoulders, slightly releasing all the tension from the day as I watched Mari walk toward us. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions when I didn’t have all the info, and I needed Reid and me to be on the same page.

Knowing him, with his carefree decision-making skills and impulsivity, he probably hadn’t even noticed this man-boy with our daughter.

He needed to pay attention, or we might find ourselves in a sticky situation with Mari and her social life in the future.

Author Bio:

E.D. Hackett is an only child who always wanted a sister. You'll find themes of sisters and mother-daughter relationships in almost all her novels, where she concocts complex relationships wrapped in forgiveness. Edy lives in New England, where the beaches, lobsters, and quirky cafes are characters of their own.

She has two children (three if you count the dog), and in her spare time, she dreams about living in Ireland.

Edy is an Enneagram Two (The Helper) or maybe a 5 (The Investigator) and is growing a book coaching side hustle (The Story Keeper Book Coach) to help aspiring authors navigate the indie publishing world.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Facebook / Newsletter


GIVEAWAY!

Family is Family Blitz

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Book Blitz ~ The Tally - The Tally Trilogy by Christian Kay

 

The Tally
Christian Kay
(The Tally Trilogy, #1)
Publication date: October 1st 2026
Genres: Dystopian, Young Adult

Every soul is born with a hundred. Spend it, and you’re worth nothing.

In the sealed city of Galcyon, a number on your wrist is the measure of your soul. It buys your food, your shelter, your right to exist. When it hits zero, the iron cuff goes on, and the city works you until the Reckoning, the holy day when the worthless are executed in front of everyone and it’s called an act of mercy.

Micah has spent eighteen years believing the number is fair. He has to believe it, because it’s the only thing keeping his twin brother safe.

Then the city takes Milo.

To get him back, Micah goes down into the dark beneath Galcyon, past the labor pits and the people the Tally has already thrown away, and finds the one thing the regime can’t survive: proof that the number was never real. Saving his brother means tearing down the lie the whole city is built on, and it will cost him far more than points.

For readers who love dystopia with a beating heart, The Tally is the first book in a faith-driven trilogy about worth, sacrifice, and a love that refuses to be counted.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

I’m steering Milo toward the dry-goods stalls when the market goes quiet in the far corner. The silence spreads like spilled ink. It originates near a man I know by sight, an old cobbler who fixes boots at a little stand near the east structural posts. I’ve walked past him a thousand times without ever learning his name. Right now, he’s standing frozen beside his workbench, staring down at his own wrist.

His band is dead dark.

Two enforcers are already on him. These aren’t the guys in the soft gray uniforms who handle the census. These are the other kind. The ones in the heavy, matte-black armor that every kid down here learns never to stand near. They move with no rush at all, because a man at zero has nowhere left to run.

I’ve never watched it happen this close. I know how the mechanics work, everyone does, but knowing the math of a thing and watching it happen five feet away are two different beasts. His number just ran out. Maybe it was the automated market toll the city skims off every trader just for standing here. Maybe it was a rent hike, a water tax, or just one more ordinary day stacked on top of too many others. It doesn’t matter. The system took the last fraction of what he had for the crime of existing, and a band at zero is finished.

The enforcer unclips an iron cuff from his tactical belt. It’s thick, dark, and heavy, a band with the light permanently choked out of it. He locks it around the old man’s wrist with a mechanical clack that I feel in my back teeth. Then he unkeys the gold band the man has worn his whole life and slides it off. Just like that, the old guy isn’t a person the Tally bothers to calculate anymore. He’s a piece of state property. The entire transformation took the space of a single breath.

He doesn’t fight. He just asks one question, his voice so quiet that it only carries because the market has gone breathless.

“Can I keep my tools?”

The enforcer tells him calmly that the stand and everything on it is immediately forfeit. He says the old man should be grateful, because asset forfeiture is the merciful route, and the alternative is far worse. He speaks with an eerie, practiced politeness that makes my stomach turn.

Then they march the old man toward the freight elevators that drop deep beneath the market floor, down into the Undercount where they bury everyone who falls. The crowd immediately closes the gap where his workbench stood, erasing him as if he were nothing but wind.

Author Bio:

Christian Kay writes young adult and new adult speculative fiction that blends gripping adventure with themes of courage, sacrifice, redemption, and faith. Through immersive worlds, unforgettable characters, and thought-provoking stories, Christian explores what happens when ordinary people are forced to choose between comfort and truth.

Website / Instagram / Facebook


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Teaser ~ Dies Irae by Autumn Montague

 

 


Gay Vampire Romantic Suspense

Date Published: October 9, 2026




Makoto and Will must accept their bond in order to stop a madman’s killing spree.

 

London, 1816. Someone is killing vampires and their Hosts, leaving brutalized bodies on display in the heart of London. Makoto Morinaga, minore and lead hunter for the Baron of Colbourne, must find and stop the madman. Yet the mission is in peril almost from the moment it starts. In despair over loving his master’s Host, he breaks his oath and finds himself bound through Compulsion to the last person he would choose as his Host -- the flamboyant young man who has spent years pining over their master. Makoto can ill afford this appalling distraction while he hunts for a monstrous killer.

Will Carter is an experienced Host who has offered up body and blood to vampires since reaching his majority. He spent years learning the duties of the Colbourne Host, only to have his dreams crumble when his master finds a man more perfect than Will. In his frustration, he taunts Colbourne’s lead hunter into committing a forbidden act. His punishment? Being bound to the last person he would ever wish to hold his contract -- Makoto Morinaga, a man whose body he knows well, but whose heart is a dark mystery and whose stoicism grates on Will’s every nerve.

An unexpected emotional connection heats their hearts even as their Host bond heats their bodies. Just as they begin to find common ground, the madman strikes again. Finding the madman’s lair might end the violence, but the price might destroy them both.

 

WARNING: Adult content, including references to physical violence and torture which may be triggers for some readers.

 



EXCERPT

 

Blood. Thickening blood, smoking and bubbling to a slow boil. The fire above it flickered in the shadows of the darkened alley. Postnato watched as the demon and its unholy servant writhed on the cobbles in purifying flame. Glee and eager satisfaction suffused him as he and his brother awaited the lethal culmination of their night’s work for the Inquisitio Sanguinis.

The demon’s mouth had pulled back from those inhuman fangs in a satisfying rictus of pain. The foul beast still struggled to free itself, despite sharpened stakes piercing shoulder and thigh, pinning it against the bloodied earth. The agonized contortions of the monster’s corrupt human slave had ceased, becoming the involuntary spasms of approaching death.

“Revertere ad inferos, Daemon,” Postnato whispered, condemning the beast to hell with a sneer. “Ad dominum tuum infernalis!”

Yes, back to Hell with you, back to your infernal master, he thought savagely.

The creature’s demonic struggles strengthened at the words, the frantic actions accompanied by a harsh croak of anguish. The renewal of its futile struggles only served to drive the stakes deeper into its flesh, and to fan the flames consuming it.

Postnato resumed his silence as Antenato raised a cautioning finger to his lips. He subsided with difficulty, impatient for the inhuman beast to surrender its last breath.

After another quarter hour, during which the human half of their quarry had become nothing but a flickering corpse-light, the demon gave a final shudder, slackening in approaching death at last.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Postnato bent for one of the buckets at his feet, waiting to douse the remaining flames after his brother had completed one more task, tearing a final, hoarse screech of pain along with the fangs from the dying beast. Antenato held his prize aloft, eyes aglow as their quarry expired. At this sign, Postnato heaved the contents of both pails over the corpses, smothering the fires with rotting offal gleaned from the butcher’s slop midden. The smoldering ruins sent up an instant reek, and he smiled in unison with his brother. This had not been their sacred mission, but chance had given them a demon and now there was one less to walk the earth.

Now to find the leader of these abominations.

* * *



About the Author

Autumn grew up loving history, mythology, and all things Japanese, not necessarily in that order. This eclectic love affair has bled over into her writing, and her stories are always well spiced with the taste of Japan, strange mythological beasties, or the lords and ladies of the ton. Sometimes all three, leading to dark desires and forbidden loves.

And after all, dangerous passions should lead to uninhibited love.

 

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

Follow Autumn on BookBub


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



RABT Book Tours & PR

Sunday, October 4, 2026

Book Blitz ~ One Night Bank Stand - Get What You Need Novel by Julia Kent

 

One Night Band Stand
Julia Kent
(Get What You Need, #2)
Publication date: September 30th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Who accidentally has a one-night stand with her alumni band director?

Yep. Me.

I know what you’re thinking. Whoops! I slipped on some valve oil and accidentally landed on his baton during a rousing chorus of Stars and Stripes Forever.

That’s not quite how it went.

But the alumni band director is really, really skilled with that baton, if you know what I mean.

So what am I supposed to do now, as I walk into the morning’s rehearsal — three feet from the podium because of course I play piccolo — and find the guy I ghosted on this morning … right there, smiling at me like he remembers exactly what tempo I prefer?

He’s perfect. Too perfect.

He’s a widowed dad of two adorable little kids that — oh, by the way — he forgot to mention.

But I also haven’t mentioned the seventeen-year-old I live with, either. He’s not my boyfriend. I’m his guardian. He’s autistic and non-speaking, and he’s been my whole world since I was nineteen.

I want Mr. Band Director. He wants me. Nothing — not the secrecy, not the awkwardness, not the 500 miles between his life and mine — will make this chemistry stop.

Except for three pesky little things: the secrets we’re hiding from each other. Three very human secrets.

I’ve never felt so seen before. He gets me. I get him. But we’re buried in responsibilities and loyalties that get in the way. When I’m with him, I can play. Really play.

And not just music.

He can’t quit his job and move his kids to be close to me. I can’t uproot a fragile teen who needs round-the-clock care and is still mourning his parents. The odds are stacked against us.

But who ever let that get in the way of love?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

There are naked boobies in my bed, and they are not my wife’s.

What have I done?

My body goes cold and hot, skin pulsing against the sheets, blood pooled in morning wood. Wood that rests against my not-wife’s thigh. My eyes widen. My beard itches around my lips, lips that feel raw, my tongue a bit overused at the tip, like I just had sex with –

I cheated on my wife.

I cheated on my wife.

My beautiful, amazing wife who tells me she loves me ten times a day. Who laughs at my stupid music jokes. Who smiles like she’s actually interested in my high school band stories. Who —

Told. Laughed. Smiled.

Past tense, Jared. Two years, two months, four days of past tense.

— is dead.

Stacey’s dead. Right. Damn it.

I close my eyes, jaw tight, inhaling slowly, my nose cold inside, the physicality of it breaking through panic. The unreality of her death still shatters my sleepy self every morning like a car alarm I can’t fully disable, one blissful second of not-knowing, then the loop of grief.

That sour taste. The shock. The anger. The pain, physical and emotional.

Stacey is dead.

Which means I’m not cheating. I’m just in a hotel room with a very naked, incredibly alluring woman who isn’t my wife.

So then who the hell is this in my arms?

She’s cute. Warm. Soft.

So soft.

The arm Ms. Not-Wife is sleeping on went numb in my sleep. I haven’t moved it one millimeter, shoulder locked, neck doing that isometric thing as her weight presses into my bicep. It should be uncomfortable. It isn’t, and somewhere in sleep my hand found her arm and started stroking it. I just realized it’s doing this. My hand likes her.

My cock sure does, too.

I really like the softness. Naked softness takes the liking up several notches.

Another clue this isn’t my wife: I’m on the bathroom side of the bed.

Ms. Not-Wife’s hair is blonde and straight, spread across my arm. Stacey’s was darker, curly, and Stacey had to pee constantly, especially after giving birth to our oldest, Molly. Every apartment, every house, every hotel, every guest room, every beach rental for nineteen years: Stacey got the bathroom side.

The woman in my bed is not Stacey.

The HVAC unit hums on an E-flat that’s four cents flat. Not concert E-flat. An E-flat that vibrates like it’s committing a felony against freon. It is the most passive-aggressive sound in Indiana, and that’s saying a lot, because have you ever gone to a church picnic in this state? Those ladies are lowkey brutal.

The print above the bed is a seashore painting, a Thomas Kincade knockoff, something a lifelong southern Indiana resident thought would evoke Cape Cod but instead makes me think Dungeons and Dragons on acid. It goes with the burnt-orange carpeting somehow. I half expect a Jello-O egg mold as part of the continental breakfast downstairs in the bar where I picked up… this woman.

I actually approached a woman at a hotel bar, and she chose to sleep with me.

Me.

Not-Wife’s hand is on my chest. She has short nails, no polish, the thumb hooked into the dip below my collarbone like she put it there on purpose. Her thumb knows what it’s doing, which is more than I can say for the rest of me. Her ribcage moves into my ribcage every four or five seconds and back out, long even breathing so constant I’ve started matching it without meaning to.

Waking her up means having to talk, and I don’t know what you say after you pick up a woman in a hotel bar and now you’re both naked under the sheets, vulnerable and freaking out a little, yet liking it.

A lot.

Not-Wife smells like vanilla and sex and the chemical-linen scent of every business hotel pillowcase put into circulation since 1994. The bar lighting was bad last night, so I’m seeing things this morning I couldn’t see then: a mole on her cheek. Long dark lashes against it. A dimple at the corner of her mouth that’s there even when she’s not smiling.

She’s gorgeous.

Morning-gorgeous, unadulterated. Her face was not-yet-defined last night, just a woman who was blonde and smiling under bad bar lighting. She has lips I kissed last night, a tongue that danced with mine and tasted so good, and her breasts are smashed against my side like little pets curled up, seeking warmth.

I have forgotten how nice this is.

A person breathing into your neck. A warm softness against your body. Your bare skin against theirs. I took this for granted for too many years, and once it was gone I felt the absence like a phantom limb.

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2.5 million books, with 5 New York Times bestsellers and more than 23 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, Dutch, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.

From single dads to cinnamon roll heroes to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).

She lives in New England with her husband, three children, and a Havanese dog named Walter. She is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls (Walter gets a pass).

She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com

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GIVEAWAY!

One Night Band Stand Blitz

—

Book Blitz ~ Haunted Holiday - The Holiday Chronicles by Lindsey Gray

 

Haunted Holiday
Lindsey Gray
(The Holiday Chronicles, #3)
Publication date: September 29th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance, Supernatural

Everyone in Clarkstown believes they know who killed firefighter Zane Gravenhurst.

His girlfriend, Jillian, sits behind bars, accused of leaving him to die after a rainy night ended in tragedy. The case is all but closed.

Only Zane’s younger sister, Molly, knows the truth isn’t buried because she can communicate with his ghost.

Molly needs help to get justice for her brother.

Her shy neighbor, whom she’s crushed on since high school, Duncan, comes to her aid.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

Molly

“Molly! Wake up!”

Molly groaned and rolled over to check the red numbers on her bedside clock. She wanted to jump back into the dream she’d been having before the voice rudely awakened her. In that dream, her thoughts lingered on her neighbor, Duncan, the one with the scar etched across his ear. Something in the scene comforted her; she wished to slip back into that warm haze and forget all the chaos that surrounded her.

“It’s five am, Zane. I’m not making you breakfast this early.” Her older brother, Zane, tended to work odd hours as a firefighter, but Molly spent three days climbing out of the grip of the flu going around the high school where she taught theater. She had no desire to indulge her brother’s cravings.

“Molly Gravenhurst. Please wake up. We need to talk,” the new voice pleaded.

The voice of her grandmother, Dawn, reached her foggy brain. Her dead grandmother.

Molly jerked up in bed and focused on the two ghosts that stood at the end. The appearance of her grandmother didn’t surprise her. What her grandmother called her “second sight” made her capable of communication with earthbound spirits. Genuine shock and abject horror slammed into her when she saw her brother, Zane. The night before, he’d been alive and kicking.

“No,” Molly whispered in utter terror. A simple, horrifying truth struck her. If her brother were a ghost, then he was dead.

Molly could see ghosts, a gift she possessed since toddlerhood. Three years ago, when her grandmother died, she and Zane inherited her house and the care of their grandmother’s ghost. While he lived, Grandma Dawn’s ghost remained invisible to Zane. Now, a ghost himself, he could finally see her.

“I know this is a shock, Molly, but Zane needs you to pull yourself together.” Grandma Dawn’s tone snapped Molly out of her silence.

“Wha-wha-what happened, Zane?” Molly fisted her blanket while she tried to gather herself.

“Jillian dropped me off at Paddy’s. He wanted to continue the Halloween party back at his house. After Paddy and I walked into the garage, everything is blank. I appeared in the kitchen here, where I found Grandma.” Zane spoke with clinical precision, not an ounce of emotion. She understood the pain of death since she dealt with the pain ghosts experienced every day.

“Where’s Jillian?” Molly grabbed her cell phone from her bedside table. “I need to call her.”

“She’s asleep on the sofa.” Zane’s voice cracked at the end of his statement. “I just peeked for a second. I can’t go …I don’t …”

Grandma Dawn took Zane’s hand in hers in a gesture of comfort and compassion.

Molly struggled with what to do next. She’d barely adjusted to her grandmother’s death. How could she live without her brother’s hugs, his teasing slaps, or witnessing his love and devotion for Jillian?

“What do I need to do?” Grandma Dawn died in her sleep. She found her in the primary bedroom of the very house she lived in. Where was Zane’s body? If it were at Paddy’s house, Paddy would have called her by now? He was Zane’s best friend. He’d had her number since the day she got it thirteen years ago.

Before Zane or Grandma Dawn had a chance to answer, Jillian burst into Molly’s attic space.

“You’re awake. Thank God.” She burst into the room and threw herself onto Molly’s bed, her blonde hair pulled back into a crooked ponytail. “Zane hasn’t come home yet. It’s still pouring outside. Visibility is shit. What if he got in an accident? What if he and Paddy are in a ditch? What if he tried to walk home and got hit by a car? I’ve called him five times and texted him six times. He hasn’t responded.”

Jillian’s frantic questions made sense, but she couldn’t confirm anything because she didn’t know whether any of those possibilities were correct. Neither did either of the ghosts.

“Let’s think.” Molly pushed away the knowledge of her brother’s death and gathered her thoughts. “You all went to that big Halloween party downtown, right?”

“Yeah. Paddy invited a bunch of us over to his house, but I told Zane I needed sleep. My sinuses have been getting worse. I think I caught whatever you have.” Congestion clogged Jillian’s voice, and tears or illness left her eyes red and bloodshot. Molly’s heart sank. The same symptoms had stalked her for the past several days.

“You dropped him off at Paddy and Lucky’s house, then?”

Jillian nodded. “It started to rain a few minutes before I got here. Now it’s pouring.”

“Let’s call Paddy first. Who else came to the party?” Molly scrolled through her numbers in her contacts to find Paddy’s number.

“Barb Sterling and her husband, Rhett.” Jillian dialed the number on speaker. “Then Marty and Ellen Culver. Maybe Grant Hannah. I think Paddy’s little brothers and a bunch of their friends were in town and staying with him for a while.” Voicemail answered after five rings. “It’s Jillian and Molly. Zane isn’t home. Is he with you, or do you have any idea where he went? Call me.”

“I’ve got Barb’s number.” Molly dialed and placed it on speaker.

“Molly?” Barb answered with a yawn. “What’s going on? It’s the butt crack of dawn.”

“Zane never came home from Paddy’s last night. Did he stay over? We can’t contact Zane or Paddy.”

“Wait a minute.” The sound of sheets and blankets shifting came through the speaker. “Jillian’s car pulled up outside Paddy’s house, but neither of them came in. I tried calling and texting Zane after her car left, but I never got an answer. We left here around two.”

“We need to look for him. I dropped him off and came back to his house,” Jillian’s voice carried extreme anxiety, burgeoning into mania.

“Jillian?” Barb yawned again on her end.

“What’s going on?” Molly heard a sleepy Rhett ask on the other end of the line.

“Jillian said she dropped Zane off at Paddy’s. I never saw him, did you?” Barb asked her husband.

“No. I thought it was weird you said you saw Jillian’s car, but they didn’t come in. But I started singing karaoke with Marty and lost track of everything.” Molly imagined the sound of strangled cats coming from Marty. None of Zane’s friends had a lick of musical or theatrical talent as she did.

Every wasted second ratcheted up Molly’s anxiety. They were no closer to answers. She looked to Zane for any suggestions while Jillian threw out scenarios left and right. Zane shrugged as he watched his girlfriend torment herself with grim what-ifs.

Barb decided she would come pick up Jillian, and they would search around town. Molly agreed to stay home in case Zane made his way back.

Molly knew for an absolute fact that November 1st would be the worst day of her life.

Author Bio:

Lindsey Gray is a writer, an over-thinker, and a chronic list-maker, but her passion for writing stories you'll love always tops the list. Her author journey began in 2010 with the publication of her first novel, and she has spent the last decade creating worlds for readers to play in. In addition to her own work, Gray uses her skills in novel formatting for other authors and hosts the weekly show Gray Matters on TMV Cafe Internet Radio. She lives and writes fueled by iced tea, her handsome hubby, and the beautiful chaos of mothering her children.

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GIVEAWAY!

Haunted Holiday Blitz

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Book Blitz ~ Truthful Lies & Bent Realities by Stephen Foehr

 




A Truly Believed Love Story

 

Mystery, Thriller, Crime

Date Published: April 30, 2026

 


In a time when mythology as propaganda shapes the systems of society and government, two unlikely souls come together to question the reality of it all—what’s going wrong in the world, whether anything’s right, and their own perceptions of honesty, dishonesty, and who they are.

Chillee and Gordie meet in Big Town, where their connection flourishes despite the recognition that they could each be fatal to the identities they’ve created for themselves. Chillee is a realistic idealist, a problem solver who puts her faith in the truth. Gordie, too, is an idealist, but he thrives on uncertainty, posing as a criminal to bring justice to white-collar crimes. They vow to hold one another accountable, to push each other through the steps to being a better person—the best person they’re capable of being.

In Chillee’s neighboring hometown, a county commissioner’s election will determine the fate of the rural community—and unknowingly put relationships to the test. When her best friend Willi asks Chillee to help her run against her ex-husband, she returns to Colton Center with Gordie…who has his own motives in mind.

As the couple continues to work with and against each other, Chillee and Gordie begin to see the deepening cracks in the perceived rights and wrongs of their world. No matter the outcome of the election, life as they knew it may not be the life they continue to lead.

Truthful Lies and Bent Realities is a thought-provoking ride into learning to understand the self and challenge the mind to keep asking the existential questions: Who are we? Who do we think we are? Who do we want to be? And do those identities intersect in the right places?



About the Author


Stephen Foehr, author of 14 fiction and nonfiction books, began his career as a police reporter in Chicago. His nonfiction books examines the relationship between music and culture, autobiography of the blues Taj Mahal, and travel. His fiction deals with submission and how to resist.


Contact Links

Website

BookBuzz

 

Purchase Link

Amazon


RABT Book Tours & PR

Book Tour ~ The Human Language by Penny Newton-Hurley

 




Develop psychological safety, improve your relationships, transform your life. Launching The MECAnism, a practical framework


Non-Fiction, Self-Help, Business, Parenting, Mind/Body/Soul, Inspirational

Date Published: September 2026

Publisher: Serapis Bey Publishing

 


TRANSFORM YOUR LIFE WITH THE WAY YOU SPEAK

As human beings, we have a deep need for social connection, yet our primitive fight-or-flight response can be a major barrier to achieving it, leading to misunderstanding, conflict and disconnection.

Fortunately, there is a solution.

The Human Language delivers a compelling message. By replacing our habitual, learned patterns of communication we can experience greater understanding, empathy and connection in our relationships, transforming our lives.

Through easy-to-follow chapters, this book introduces The MECAnism, to calm your instinctive reactions, gain emotional clarity and develop psychological safety. It gives you the practical tools and techniques to listen, speak and act in your daily life with compassion, for yourself and others, enabling you to meet your needs with confidence.



"I will recommend using The Human Language 1000 times. It helps me verbalise my feelings and work through moments of overwhelm. There are applications across all areas of life.It can, and will be, a transformative book."

Pam Bryant, Oxford, UK

"Penny uses just enough science to help the reader understand why they behave the way they do while focusing on simple techniques to get to the heart of change.

The Human Language should be required reading for anybody who has to work or live with other people, which is most of us."

Diana D'Ascoli, Philadelphia, US


Changing the way we speak to other people is not an easy or quick

process. It has become deeply ingrained in us for various reasons—

our judgements, unconscious biases, unmet needs, and the

assumptions and reactions we make on a daily basis. However, and

it is a significant ‘however’, the crucial fact remains that … we hold

the power to change. It is entirely within our human capability to

break old habits and form new ones. The new type of

communication and connection we are discussing involves skills that

can be learned by any one of us at any point in our lives. We have

the ability to re-engineer our relationships so our daily lives no

longer resemble the examples mentioned above. Our daily existence

can transform into a state where we have greater control about how

we listen to and speak with others. We can experience the benefits

of genuine connection and understanding, both with other people

and with ourselves. This shift will bring about less conflict and

xvenable us to attract less of what we don't want and more of what we

truly want. Ultimately, it will lead us to a greater sense of inner

peace. To embark on this journey, we examine how we conduct our

conversations. In this book, we encourage you to shine a light on

your minds, to pay attention to the messages conveyed by your

emotions, to identify your underlying core needs, and to choose

actions that will best fulfil what you truly want underneath. First, we

must address the most significant conversation of all; the one we

have with ourselves.

 

About the Author

 

 Penny Newton-Hurley is the founder of CommPassion Ltd. She has worked with large private organisations in the UK and globally, and in the public sector across the areas of government, military, healthcare and education for more than 30 years. CommPassion provides training in interpersonal communication skills, resolving conflict between individuals and building psychological safety within teams for higher workplace and relationship performance.

In 2025, her company launched their first four online courses, taking their expertise and experience from the world of business directly to individuals in all areas of their lives. This book reveals the details behind her courses and supports the learning of improved communications skills.

Communication has been a fascination for Penny since childhood, when she spoke with her father in Morse Code! After a few exciting years spent working in International Marketing, Penny had an opportunity to be involved in the nascent field of Internal Communication where she began to understand the importance of humanto-human connection in the workplace. In 2005, she was introduced to the teachings of nonviolent communication. From that moment on, it became her purpose to spread this message as far as possible, a mission to change the way we talk and listen and communicate with each other; to change the way the world speaks.

Today, she is a trainer of compassionate communication techniques, Workplace Mediator, Certified Psychological Safety Facilitator with the Fearless Organisation; as well as a UK Samaritans Listening Volunteer. Penny holds a BA (Combined Honours) in Modern Languages (French/Spanish) with Politics, Economics and Linguistics.

 

Contact Links

Website

Instagram: @pennynewtonhurley

Facebook: Penny Newton-Hurley

LinkedIn: Penny Newton-Hurley

TikTok: @pennynewtonhurley

YouTube: Penny Newton-Hurley



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