Showing posts sorted by relevance for query early snow. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query early snow. Sort by date Show all posts

Saturday, June 13, 2026

Book Blast: Snow Place Like Home




Snow Globe Shop Mystery, Book 5


Traditional Mystery/Amateur Sleuth, Small Town Fiction, Snow Globe Shop, Minnesota Mystery

Date Published: 01-09-2026



The past collides with the present for Camryn Brooks on one cold winter evening. A man’s body is found in the passenger seat of a car, parked in her driveway. Camryn is chilled to the bone when she learns his identity: her old nemesis, the one whose actions ruined her career and tarnished her stellar reputation in Washington D.C.

 

Early Reviews


“Camryn Brooks soon discovers, like snowflakes, no two suspects are alike . . . a captivating cozy read.” Mary Seifert


“A cozy snow day read with wonderful characters and intriguing clues to a twisty mystery.” Alicia Kozak


“It pulls you right in. An ideal cozy mystery with just enough police procedural to keep you hooked.” Timya Owens


"So many twists and turns, it leaves you thinking, ‘There's snow place like home!'" Michelle Hess


“Mystery readers will appreciate the subtle clues sprinkled throughout and an unexpected twist at the end. A great read from a great author.” Natalie Fowler


“Set against a frigid Minnesota winter, Snow Place Like Home shows that friendship and forgiveness can go a long way in chasing the chill of murder away.” Thekla Madsen



Excerpt


I yawned on my way to the living room, stretched out on the couch, pulled a comforter over my body, and opened a book I’d been reading. I was involved in the novel’s complex plot when my cell phone buzzed. I reached over and plucked it from the coffee table. My best friend Alice “Pinky” Nelson’s name appeared on the screen.

I smiled and pushed the accept button. “Hey, Pink—”

She cut me off. “Ahhhh. Cami, you need to come out here. Now.” She spoke with a hushed intensity. Was she hurt, in trouble?

My heart sank as I dropped the book, threw back the comforter, and jumped off the couch. “Come out where? Where are you, Pinky?”

“Kitchen . . . window. . . yours. . . look . . . out.” It took me a second to process her words, comprehend what she meant. She was in my backyard? Had she tripped and fallen?

I crossed the ten feet in a flash, slid my feet into boots by the back entry, cast all apprehension aside, and pushed open the door. The early evening sky was cloaked in darkness, and with the help of an alley’s street lamp, I spotted a vehicle I didn’t recognize parked by my garage. What in the world?

Pinky’s car sat next to it. I flipped on the outside house light and saw Pinky sitting in her car. When I went down the steps and moved toward her, she jumped out from her driver’s seat and pointed at the other vehicle. “I think he might be dead.”

My heart sank even lower as I glanced at a bulky form in the other vehicle’s passenger seat. I was unable to move, frozen to my spot on the snow-covered lawn. Pinky closed the gap between us and threw her arms around me. We turned our heads in sync toward the vehicle occupied by an unknown—dead or alive–person.


About the Author


Christine Husom is a bestselling author from Buffalo. She writes the Winnebago County Mysteries and the Snow Globe Shop Mysteries. Christine has stories in six anthologies, wrote a collaborative novel with eight other authors, and co-edited A Festival of Crime for Nodin Press. She trained with the St. Paul Police Department and served with the Wright County Sheriff's Office. She's a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime, active with the Twin Cities chapter. She loves meeting readers at events.


Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram


Purchase Links

Amazon

Draft2Digital




RABT Book Tours & PR

Thursday, April 2, 2026

Audiobook Tour: Early Snow


Mystery

Date Published: February 18, 2026

Narrator: Greg O'Donahue

Run time: 5 hours 20 minutes.



EARLY SNOW

Odyssey Pruit paints pictures of the ghosts and spirits she saw in the halls of an old hotel where she worked ten years before. GUY HOGAN doesn’t believe in ghosts. Hogan is hired to guard Odyssey’s pictures for her first art show in the same old hotel. When an early blizzard closes the roads, knocks out the power and telephone, Hogan is trapped in the hotel with Odyssey’s quirky fans. When imps and ghouls make their presence known, Hogan questions his doubts, and the answer could be murder.


 

 

 Kevin Wolf is an award-winning Mystery and Western author. His books include Trailridge (2024), The Homeplace, winner of the 2015 Tony Hillerman Prize and the 2016 Strand Critics Award finalist for Best Debut Mystery. His short story Belthanger received the 2021 Spur Award for Best Short Fiction and his novel, The Bootheel was a 2024 Peacemaker Award finalist.

The legends and landscape of the West are evident in everything he writes. His newest novel, Trailridge, is set against the grandeur of Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park and the 1982 Lawn Lake Flood. Those who visit Rocky often or have chosen the national park for their once-in-a-lifetime destination will recognize the mountains, valleys, rivers, and the twists and turns of Trailridge as this story races to its climax.

In The Homeplace, a schoolboy hero returns after sixteen years to solve a murder in a windswept, dying town on the eastern plains of Colorado. In his short story Belthanger, readers are given a glimpse of a 1950s small town, soon to be bypassed by the new Interstate Highway System, and the drama that unfolds on the town’s darkened streets one night. The BootHeel is a coming-of-age tale of a teenage orphan and an aging gunman as they follow a treasure map into Mexico as the nineteenth century draws to its end.

Kevin Wolf is a member of Western Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, and serves as Vice President of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. He facilitates a weekly critique group for other writers. The great-grandson of Colorado homesteaders, he enjoys fly fishing, old Winchesters, and almost every 1950’s Western movie. He lives in Estes Park, CO with his loving and patient wife.


Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Goodreads

Instagram


Purchase Links

Audible

Apple



RABT Book Tours & PR

Friday, March 27, 2026

Teaser: Montana Matrimonial News



Historical Fiction

Date Published: 10-07-2025

Publisher: NorthStar Press



Loneliness gnaws and chews like the relentless prairie wind. Dakota homesteader, Digger Dancy, props his feet in the oven and waits for the storm to end. His brother, George, barges into the soddy in a swirl of blowing snow. George announces he will abandon his claim to seek a wife. He can’ t stand the loneliness. Digger slaps a stack of old newspapers on the table and convinces him to place an ad for a correspondence bride in the Montana Matrimonial News. Doctor Gamla, the almost-doctor and midwife, treats George’ s frostbite, and offers a cure for his melancholia. She tells of two sisters living in tar-paper shacks along the Mad Dog River. The brothers cannot imagine how Doctor Gamla’ s cure will change their lives. Nickelbo’ s whole world is wheat. The homesteaders talk about crops, worry about the weather, complain about prices, and dream what they’ ll buy after the harvest. Asa Wainwright busts sod with a grasshopper plow. Ingrid Larson dallies over planting to avoid her sister’ s wedding. Drunken Oscar Borgom gets lost in a storm on the way to the outhouse. Through it all, Doctor Gamla delivers babies, treats ailments, and offers advice. “My cures work if you can stand them."


Excerpt

Digger Dancy paced back and forth across his soddy, ten steps from door to stove, eleven steps from table to bed. He had survived four long winters, and he would survive now. It was a matter of mental discipline. He focused on pleasant things: playing baseball in July, a keg of beer cooled in the river, turning the crank at the ice cream social, dancing to a polka band. Don’t think about Christmas coming. Don’t count the months until spring. Don’t worry about your brother. Read. Sing. Recite poetry. Read some more. Remember the poems you memorized in school. Listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. And the Bible verses you learned in church. Jesus wept. God is love. The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want. Get ahold of yourself.

Digger cracked open the door and peered out into the storm. A white curtain of blowing snow wrapped the world into a cocoon. He couldn’t see a thing. Yesterday, the storm roared out of Canada and dumped three feet of snow across Dakota Territory. Snow was still coming down. Icy cold robbed his breath. He slammed the door and added kerosene to the lamp. The earthen walls absorbed the light, leaving only a feeble glow.

He had sweet-talked his brother into homesteading the adjoining claim. They would share work and keep each other company. They would build their own life, away from their bossy mother and relatives. Sitting on a claim for five years was worth the title from Uncle Sam, in his opinion, but George suffered from melancholia. Dark winter days pushed him to the edge of sanity. George always snapped back in the spring, but even so, Digger worried about him. Lately he had been withdrawn and morose. As soon as the weather cleared, he would go check on him. Dear God, don’t let him do anything rash.

He pulled his chair next to the stove, rested his feet on the open oven door, and opened a Fargo Argosy that was almost old enough to vote. He reread a report of a baseball game. Homesteaders were too busy and too isolated to play much ball. Next summer he would convince his neighbors to play a game once in a while. It was the only thing he missed about Iowa. He didn’t miss his bossy mother or the town gossips. He didn’t miss everyone trying to tell him how to live his life.

 

About the Author

 

 Candace Simar likes to imagine how things might have been. She combines her love of history with her Scandinavian heritage in historical novels that examine the early days of Minnesota and North Dakota. “I write historical novels to share painless history lessons about the fascinating and unique history of our region.”

Her historical novels include: Sister Lumberjack, book five in the Abercrombie Trail Series (North Star Press, March 2024) Follow Whiskey Creek (Sweet Honey Press 2023) Escape to Fort Abercrombie (Five Star Cengage 2018) Shelterbelts (North Star Press 2015), Blooming Prairie (North Star Press 2012) Birdie (North Star Press2011) Pomme de Terre (North Star Press 2010), and Abercrombie Trail (North Star Press 2009). Her short story collections: Dear Homefolks (River Place Press 2017) and The Glory of Ordinary Time (Wolfpack Press 2018). Farm Girls (River Place Press 2013) is a book of poetry co-written with her sister, Angela Foster. Candace’s short stories have been published in the anthologies: Spoilt Quilt (Five Star Cengage 2020), Librarians of the West (Five Star Cengage 2021); and Why Cows Need Cowboys (Two Dot Press 2021).

Simar is a Spur Award winner and Spur finalist from the Western Writers of America for her Abercrombie Trail series. Shelterbelts was a finalist in both the Willa Literary Awards in Historical Fiction and the Midwest Book Awards. Escape to Fort Abercrombie holds a Will Rogers Gold Medallion and a Peacemaker Award from Western Fictioneers.

Her short stories and poetry have received awards from the Bob Dylan Creative Writing Contest, Lake Region Review, League of Minnesota Poets, National Federation of State Poetry Societies, Dust and Fire, and the Laura Awards for Short Fiction.

Candace enjoys sharing her research and writing with groups and book clubs across the nation.


Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Goodreads


Purchase Links

https://mybook.to/MontanaMatrimonialNews 

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Bookshop


RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

Teaser: Snow Blitz

 

❄️𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬𝑹 𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑨𝑳 ❄️

π’ππŽπ– ππ‹πˆπ“π™ by Ava Sutton releases in 3 days! We are thrilled to share this teaser with you! 

Get the paperback early here: https://geni.us/SnowBlitzppbk

What to expect: 

❄️ Holiday Romance (Novella)

❄️ Strangers to Lovers

❄️ Holiday Fling

❄️ Football MMC 

BLURB: 

I came to New York City for my former teammates' Christmas wedding - a quick trip to this winter wonderland.

What I didn’t expect was to get blitzed by a five-foot-nothing bundle of holiday magic wearing red, like a weapon, straight to my heart.

When she asks me if I want to ditch the wedding and experience a true Manhattan Christmas, I don't hesitate.

She doesn’t know that I'm one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL, and for once, I like it that way.

With her, I’m just a man who got sucker-punched by a Vixen.

But the thing about a blitz is… you never see it coming.

And when the snow melts, I have to decide if this was just a holiday fling—or the one play that could change...everything.

Snow Blitz is a prequel novella in the Gridiron Legacy series.


Monday, November 17, 2025

Book Tour: Early Snow

 




Mystery
Date Published: 11-15-2025

Odyssey Pruit paints pictures of the ghosts and spirits she saw in the halls of an old hotel where she worked ten years before. GUY HOGAN doesn’t believe in ghosts. Hogan is hired to guard Odyssey’s pictures for her first art show in the same old hotel. When an early blizzard closes the roads, knocks out the power and telephone, Hogan is trapped in the hotel with Odyssey’s quirky fans. When imps and ghouls make their presence known, Hogan questions his doubts, and the answer could be murder.



About the Author


Kevin Wolf is an award-winning Mystery and Western author. His books include Trailridge (2024), The Homeplace, winner of the 2015 Tony Hillerman Prize and the 2016 Strand Critics Award finalist for Best Debut Mystery. His short story Belthanger received the 2021 Spur Award for Best Short Fiction and his novel, The Bootheel was a 2024 Peacemaker Award finalist.


The legends and landscape of the West are evident in everything he writes. His newest novel, Trailridge, is set against the grandeur of Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park and the 1982 Lawn Lake Flood. Those who visit Rocky often or have chosen the national park for their once-in-a-lifetime destination will recognize the mountains, valleys, rivers, and the twists and turns of Trailridge as this story races to its climax.In The Homeplace, a schoolboy hero returns after sixteen years to solve a murder in a windswept, dying town on the eastern plains of Colorado. In his short story Belthanger, readers are given a glimpse of a 1950s small town, soon to be bypassed by the new Interstate Highway System, and the drama that unfolds on the town’s darkened streets one night. The BootHeel is a coming-of-age tale of a teenage orphan and an aging gunman as they follow a treasure map into Mexico as the nineteenth century draws to its end.


Kevin Wolf is a member of Western Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, and serves as Vice President of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. He facilitates a weekly critique group for other writers. The great-grandson of Colorado homesteaders, he enjoys fly fishing, old Winchesters, and almost every 1950’s Western movie. He lives in Estes Park, CO with his loving and patient wife.

Contact Links


Purchase Link




RABT Book Tours & PR

Saturday, November 15, 2025

Release Blitz: Early Snow

 




Mystery
Date Published: 11-15-2025

Odyssey Pruit paints pictures of the ghosts and spirits she saw in the halls of an old hotel where she worked ten years before. GUY HOGAN doesn’t believe in ghosts. Hogan is hired to guard Odyssey’s pictures for her first art show in the same old hotel. When an early blizzard closes the roads, knocks out the power and telephone, Hogan is trapped in the hotel with Odyssey’s quirky fans. When imps and ghouls make their presence known, Hogan questions his doubts, and the answer could be murder.


About the Author


Kevin Wolf is an award-winning Mystery and Western author. His books include Trailridge (2024), The Homeplace, winner of the 2015 Tony Hillerman Prize and the 2016 Strand Critics Award finalist for Best Debut Mystery. His short story Belthanger received the 2021 Spur Award for Best Short Fiction and his novel, The Bootheel was a 2024 Peacemaker Award finalist.


The legends and landscape of the West are evident in everything he writes. His newest novel, Trailridge, is set against the grandeur of Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park and the 1982 Lawn Lake Flood. Those who visit Rocky often or have chosen the national park for their once-in-a-lifetime destination will recognize the mountains, valleys, rivers, and the twists and turns of Trailridge as this story races to its climax.In The Homeplace, a schoolboy hero returns after sixteen years to solve a murder in a windswept, dying town on the eastern plains of Colorado. In his short story Belthanger, readers are given a glimpse of a 1950s small town, soon to be bypassed by the new Interstate Highway System, and the drama that unfolds on the town’s darkened streets one night. The BootHeel is a coming-of-age tale of a teenage orphan and an aging gunman as they follow a treasure map into Mexico as the nineteenth century draws to its end.


Kevin Wolf is a member of Western Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, and serves as Vice President of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. He facilitates a weekly critique group for other writers. The great-grandson of Colorado homesteaders, he enjoys fly fishing, old Winchesters, and almost every 1950’s Western movie. He lives in Estes Park, CO with his loving and patient wife.

Contact Links


Purchase Link




RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, October 21, 2025

Teaser: Early Snow

 




Mystery
Date Published: 11-15-2025

Odyssey Pruit paints pictures of the ghosts and spirits she saw in the halls of an old hotel where she worked ten years before. GUY HOGAN doesn’t believe in ghosts. Hogan is hired to guard Odyssey’s pictures for her first art show in the same old hotel. When an early blizzard closes the roads, knocks out the power and telephone, Hogan is trapped in the hotel with Odyssey’s quirky fans. When imps and ghouls make their presence known, Hogan questions his doubts, and the answer could be murder.


Excerpt


Opening Scene

By noon, the autumn sky had turned from blue to the color of road asphalt.  Treetops bent in the winds funneling into the canyon from the high peaks.  Stray snowflakes splattered the windshield, turned into tiny droplets, and in an instant were gone.  
My best friend and new boss, Dalton Cummings, pulled his pick-up into a parking spot at the back of the big, white hotel and killed the engine.  “The truck with the paintings is supposed to be here in about an hour.”  He pulled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt and checked his Timex for the tenth time.  “We’ll leave our gear in the pickup.  I’ll let the hotel manager know we’re here.  You see if you can find,”--He snatched a clipboard from the dashboard and flipped through the pages–-“damn it, I can never remember her...”         
“Porsche Hurt,” I told him.  “Porsche.  Like the car.  Hurt, like ouch.” 
“That’s one of those damn made-up New York City names if I’ve ever heard one.  Her folks never gave it to her.”
“You’ve said that before.”  Then it hit me.  I held back the smile.  “I know what’s going on.  Ex-game warden Dalton Cummings is nervous about his first paying job since retirement.  What could it be?”  I enjoyed the edge I had over my friend.
Cummings turned toward the window.  His breath painted a gray haze on the glass.
 “Let me guess.”  I wanted to see his face, but he wouldn’t turn back.  “The man who fought forest fires, rescued lost campers, and saved fish and wildlife for generations to come is afraid of a New York woman.”
“That ain’t it.”
“Then what?” 
He shook his head, and the brim of his Stetson left a mark on the fogged window.  “I don’t like hotels,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Hotels.”  He clamped both hands on the steering wheel.  “I’d rather be in my own bed.”  He stared straight ahead.  “I do fine in a sleepin’ bag in the backcountry.  But there’s somethin’ about a little old mint on a fluffy pillow and turned-down sheets that makes me all crawly.”  He shook like he was cold.  “It’s all too fancy.”
“Don’t worry.” I bit back a laugh. “It’s just two nights.  You probably won’t get any sleep anyway.” I couldn’t resist adding one more thing.  “The ghosts will keep you awake.”
Cummings jerked up on the door handle and glanced sideways at me.  He raised his middle finger.  “Screw you, Hogan.” 


About the Author


Kevin Wolf is an award-winning Mystery and Western author. His books include Trailridge (2024), The Homeplace, winner of the 2015 Tony Hillerman Prize and the 2016 Strand Critics Award finalist for Best Debut Mystery. His short story Belthanger received the 2021 Spur Award for Best Short Fiction and his novel, The Bootheel was a 2024 Peacemaker Award finalist.


The legends and landscape of the West are evident in everything he writes. His newest novel, Trailridge, is set against the grandeur of Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park and the 1982 Lawn Lake Flood. Those who visit Rocky often or have chosen the national park for their once-in-a-lifetime destination will recognize the mountains, valleys, rivers, and the twists and turns of Trailridge as this story races to its climax.In The Homeplace, a schoolboy hero returns after sixteen years to solve a murder in a windswept, dying town on the eastern plains of Colorado. In his short story Belthanger, readers are given a glimpse of a 1950s small town, soon to be bypassed by the new Interstate Highway System, and the drama that unfolds on the town’s darkened streets one night. The BootHeel is a coming-of-age tale of a teenage orphan and an aging gunman as they follow a treasure map into Mexico as the nineteenth century draws to its end.


Kevin Wolf is a member of Western Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, and serves as Vice President of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. He facilitates a weekly critique group for other writers. The great-grandson of Colorado homesteaders, he enjoys fly fishing, old Winchesters, and almost every 1950’s Western movie. He lives in Estes Park, CO with his loving and patient wife.

Contact Links


RABT Book Tours & PR

Book Blitz: Winter in the High Sierra

 

Winter in the High Sierra
Robert Brighton
Publication date: October 1st 2025
Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance

November 1899. New York society belle Louisa MacGregor, heartsick after a broken engagement, flees her old life aboard the last westbound train of the season, whose track cuts through the very heart of the steep and forbidding Sierra Nevada Mountains.

When an early blizzard traps her train in a remote mountain pass, Louisa is fast asleep in her luxurious palace car. The big train proves too heavy to make it over the snow-covered summit, and the engineer makes a fateful decision: to lighten the load, he crowds all his passengers into the first two cars and leave the rest of his train behind to the mercy of the elements.

Asleep, Louisa does not hear the conductor’s urgent cries, and she and her palace car are left behind. When she awakens, she finds herself cold, alone, and deserted in the most rugged wilderness on the continent.

She is near despair when a solitary mountain man—whom she comes to know only as ‘Bandit’—locates her abandoned train. The handsome, mysterious Bandit—who seems to carry with him a deep sadness of his own—leads Louisa over the mountaintops and down to his tidy cabin, nestled in a secluded valley surrounded by the towering peaks of the High Sierra.

With no prospect of rescue until spring, Lou and Bandit must find a way to survive the deadliest winter in fifty years. Trapped in a wild mountain paradise that is by turns unspeakably beautiful and utterly terrifying, these two lost people must learn to trust each other—and, perhaps, find the true meaning of life, love, and redemption.

Rich with historical detail, wilderness adventure, and heartfelt romance, Winter in the High Sierra is a sweeping, inspirational, clean love story perfect for readers who enjoy:

Heartfelt clean romances
Nature and healing journeys
Inspirational love stories with grace
Snowbound survival stories
Western mountain wilderness stories
Historical fiction with emotional depth

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

★★★★★ A beautifully written romance where love, trust, and survival intertwine. Absolute must-read!

What if your second chance came in the form of a snowstorm and a stranger who help you to see your worth before you did?

That’s the heart of Winter in the High Sierra, a powerful, clean historical romance set in the remote Sierra Nevada in 1899.

Louisa MacGregor is used to wealth, comfort, and being told what’s proper, until a broken engagement sends her fleeing west, heart in pieces. Boarding the last train out of New York, she hopes to disappear into the wilderness and leave her pain behind.

But when an unexpected storm traps the train in a mountain pass, Louisa’s car is quietly abandoned. She wakes to an empty train, deep snow, and no hope of rescue.

Then she meets Bandit, a quiet, deeply kind mountain man who offers her shelter in his isolated cabin. With no way out until spring, the two must face the elements, and their own guarded emotions.

Unlike the gruff, brooding heroes found in many survival stories, Bandit is gentle and introspective. He listens more than he speaks, and his kindness runs deep. As Lou finds her footing in this strange, wild world, she begins to rediscover her strength — and see herself through Bandit’s eyes.

Set against breathtaking landscapes and rich historical detail, Winter in the High Sierra blends survival, heartache, faith, and emotional redemption into a story that will leave you deeply moved and enjoying every word. Funny, moving, and a real page-turner. You won’t want to put it down, trust me.

you’ll love this clean, character-driven romance with a slow burn and a strong sense of place.

Don’t miss this unforgettable journey. Grab your copy of Winter in the High Sierra today and let it carry you away to a cozy escape.

Author Bio:

Acclaimed author Robert Brighton is an authority on the Gilded Age, and a great believer that the Victorian era was anything but stuffy. In his immersive fiction books, Brighton exposes the turbulence of the era - its passions, dreams, and disasters - against a backdrop of careful research on the places, sights, sounds, and smells of the time.

When he is not walking the streets in the footsteps of the Avenging Angels, sniffing out unsolved mysteries, Brighton is an adventurer. He has traveled in more than 50 countries around the world, personally throwing himself into every situation his characters will face - from underground ruins to opium dens - and (so far) living to tell about it.

A graduate of the Sorbonne, Paris, Brighton is an avid student of early 20th Century history and literature, an ardent and relentless investigator, and an admirer of Emily Dickinson and Jim Morrison. He lives in Virginia with his wife and their two cats.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Newsletter


GIVEAWAY!

Winter in the High Sierra Blitz


Monday, February 9, 2026

Teaser: The Wolf Experiment

 




Urban Fantasy / Werewolf
Date Published: 01-23-2026

 


 In Doford Peaks, a small mountain town, 19-year-old Ethan lives with his grandma. His life is quite normal, at least as normal as it can be for someone with asthma. A winter morning walk turns dramatic when he and his grandma discover an 18-year-old girl, Mia, who is unconscious and injured. As Mia recovers, bits of her past emerge, attracting agents Gibson and Cooper of the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation (BSI). A complex web of secrets associated with the Defense Forces of Genesis (DFOG) intertwines their fates. As the truth emerges, Ethan and Mia must face the horrifying reality of The Wolf Experiment.



 

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

A whimper pulled me from my sleep, and my eyelids fluttered open. Gracie’s snout was right in front of me, her light gray fur softly brushing against my cheek. As her pale blue eyes looked into mine, her tail began to wag. There was no way I was getting up, and I rolled over to the other side of my bed, where Hank stood waiting. He fixed his golden eyes on me, his pure white fur seeming darker in the dim light of my bedroom. Sunlight filtered through the two large skylights above my bed, casting a warm light over my room. The rays continued to spread across posters of my favorite bands, my world map marked with where I wanted to visit, my only plant that I hadn’t killed, and my high school guitar leaning against my bookcase. My wolves whimpered again, signaling it was time to get up. Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, it read 6:00 a.m.
I pulled the covers over my head and tried to fall back asleep, but that didn’t work out well. My wolves howled as they jumped onto my king-sized bed. Sitting up, I shook off the sleepiness and raised my open palms toward Hank. “We’re bros, Hank. Help me out here. It’s too early. Can’t you and Gracie give me a little more time?”
Hank reacted by leaping off my bed, sprinting into the hallway, and then vanishing. Gracie fixed her fierce gaze on me, but I avoided her eyes. The sound of Hank’s paws tapping against the floor broke the silence as he charged back into my room, his leash clamped in his mouth.
I shook my head in frustration, tossed aside my covers, and walked into the bathroom. They followed closely behind me. “At the very least, let me take a quick shower before we go for a walk.”
I didn’t let either of them protest with a bark, howl, or whine and stepped into the shower. Turning on the hot water, my wolves settled onto the cool porcelain tile of the bathroom, their eyes on me, waiting. My thoughts drifted back to one year ago when I discovered the abandoned wolf puppies on my way home from the local store. They huddled together on the roadside, trembling and shaking, too young to be without their mother. Their bodies were mere skin and bones, and they had that look in their eyes that they were ready to give up. I tucked them into my jacket and rushed home, fully aware that my grandma would not be pleased with my impulsive decision, but I had to save them.
My grandma’s eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the little bundles of fur sticking out from my jacket as I walked in the door. “Ethan, did you bring wolves into my house?” She let out a deep sigh and was definitely annoyed, but as she noticed their desperate state, her disapproval began to fade. She quickly ushered me and the puppies into her clinic and examined them thoroughly. “I’m a physician, not a veterinarian,” she said, “but these puppies are severely dehydrated and malnourished. I can give them fluids, and you need to buy puppy milk replacement from the feed store. Let Walter know they are wolf pups and about four weeks old. He will know what to give you.”

Gracie’s and Hank’s urgent barks jolted me into the present and forced me to quickly finish my shower. Staring at myself in the double mirrors over the bathroom vanity, I saw bits of my grandma in me. We both had curly, caramel brown hair, although hers had strands of gray. The left corner of our smiles was slightly crooked, a trait that ran in the family. Our hazel eyes had more green than brown, and while she stood at 5'6" and weighed 125 pounds, I was taller at 5'10" and weighed 165 pounds.
She was a tough, 66-year-old woman with a strong personality who never remarried after my grandfather passed away. I never knew him. He died before I was born. Grandma, being the town’s physician and surgeon, was accustomed to interacting with people and found comfort in those conversations. As for me—I was a loner and found socializing to be a challenge. I preferred the company of animals over people. Hank and Gracie were my best friends. All I truly needed was their companionship, along with my grandma’s, of course.
When I was five, my parents left me at my grandma’s house. That was fourteen years ago. We lived in Doford Peaks, a small mountain town in the state of Oakridge, with a population of around 1,200. With winter fully upon us, I dressed in utility pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and my winter boots to prepare for the cold. I also dressed Hank and Gracie in their waterproof winter coats and booties. Along with my down jacket, I grabbed a beanie and gloves. I stuffed my cell phone, inhaler, and compass into my pants pockets. With Gracie’s and Hank’s leashes in hand, I left my bedroom and dropped my jacket, beanie, and gloves on the entryway table.
Hank and Gracie followed me into our rustic kitchen, with exposed wooden beams and oak cabinets. Grandma particularly loved the large windows that allowed natural light to stream across the stone-tiled floor and the breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains. She was seated at the antique wooden table in the center of the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee. Grabbing a granola bar and a bottle of water, I breathed in the rich aroma of French roast. “Morning, Grandma. You’re up early.”
“Ethan, good morning. A slight emergency brought me into the clinic.” She sipped her coffee and continued, “LuAnn fell on the ice and sliced her hand open. She needed several stitches.” Grinning, she said, “She asked about you.”
“Please stop with the matchmaking.”
“She’s intelligent and attractive, much like you.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to date her.”
“It doesn’t mean you have to date her. But what’s the harm in having a casual cup of coffee?”
“Being single works for me. Plus, I wouldn’t know how to talk to her, and I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea. Can we change the subject?”
She placed her coffee mug on the counter. “Fine. Are you going out for a walk with your wolf pack?”
I scratched Gracie and Hank behind their ears. “As much as I wanted to sleep in, they insisted I get up and take them for a walk.”
Her gaze drifted to one of the large windows, where snowflakes were gently falling outside. Turning her attention back to me, she asked, “Do you have your inhaler?”
I patted my pocket. “Yes, Grandma.”
“What about your cell phone?”
“I have that too.”
“Since it’s snowing, you should definitely take a jacket, and—”
My chin bobbed toward the door as I interrupted her. “I have a jacket, a beanie, and gloves.”
“Hmm. What about water or a snack?”
I groaned and replied, “Grandma, I’m 19. I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.”
A protective expression crossed her face as she placed her hand on her hip. “Ethan, no matter how old you get, in my eyes, you’ll always be my precious grandson.”
A sigh escaped my lips, and I shrugged my shoulders. “Do you want to just come with me?”
Her hazel eyes brightened with a smile as she waved a finger at me. “That’s a great idea,” she said. “I’ll get my coat.”
Grandma came back wearing a down jacket. She was bundled up in winter clothing. A scarf was wrapped around her neck, and gloves covered her hands while she tucked her hair beneath the hood of her jacket. She grabbed a bottle of water from the cupboard and tucked it into her jacket pocket. Then she reached for Gracie’s leash. “Gracie can come with me.”
“Gracie is definitely easier to control than Hank. He tends to pull a lot, especially when he catches a scent.” I handed her Gracie’s leash.
“That’s true!” she said with a smile. “I’m ready. It’s beautiful right now. The sun is breaking through the clouds, the snow is falling, and the air smells of pine cones. What more could we ask for?”
“You sound like a greeting card, Grandma.”
A chuckle escaped her lips. “I do, don’t I?” She opened the solid wood door and replied, “After you.”
Wood siding wrapped around my grandma’s single-story home. The deep green roof blended into the surrounding trees, and the many windows let in tons of light, which my grandma loved. I led Hank through the doorway and onto the wraparound deck. We made our way down the stairs and onto the cement driveway. Continuing down the sloped driveway, we passed Grandma’s clinic, a smaller replica of the main house. Glen’s truck had cleared the road of snow. At 70, he was still going strong as the owner of a snowplow truck company. His silver hair was often dusted with snow, mirroring the bushy eyebrows that framed his kind, gray-blue eyes. Every time I saw him, he was wearing a flannel shirt, a heavy jacket, jeans, and boots. Maybe they were his favorites or maybe it was his uniform, but at least he was consistent.
We walked along the towering pine trees, now filled with snow, lining both sides of the road. The crisp, cool air stung my cheeks, so I pulled my beanie down as far as possible and still be able to see. Hank and Gracie strolled alongside us, their noses in the air, sniffing at whatever scents they could find.
Grandma asked, “Would you like to talk about the letter your parents sent?”
“I don’t,” I abruptly replied.
“I think we ought to talk about it,” she insisted.
I looked at her, hoping my expression conveyed my hurt, frustration, and exhaustion. “Grandma, I love you. I know my dad is your son, and I don’t mean any disrespect, but they handed me off to you fourteen years ago. Mom and Dad haven’t visited me for any occasion—birthdays, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. They ghosted me! I couldn’t care less about their stupid letters.”
“I understand where you’re coming from,” she sympathized. “Although I don’t support the choice they made, I know it was very tough for them to leave you in my care, and I can only imagine how confusing this all is for you. I don’t know what your letter said, but in my letter, they reiterated their continued search for a cure for asthma. Their letter made it very clear that they’re doing everything possible to help you live a healthier, happier life. I hope you know how much both your parents love you.”
“Researching for fourteen years, Grandma?” I exclaimed, my voice filled with exasperation. “I’m sure even you don’t even believe that.”
“I know they love you.”
“If they truly loved me, they would have been present in my life instead of concentrating on scientific research. My parents didn’t want a flawed son.”
Her hand touched mine as she paused. “Ethan, you can’t possibly believe that.”
“Regardless of what I believe, the fact remains that I have asthma, and I manage it. You stood beside me, not my parents. They’ve been absent most of my life. Even if they returned now, I probably wouldn’t want to see them. I’m sorry, Grandma.” I softened my tone. “My anger is directed at them, not you, and I’m just not ready to forgive them.”
She hugged me tight and reassured me. “Ethan, I will always be here for you.”
In her arms, emotions surged within me, and tears threatened to fall. Hank and Gracie surrounded me, nuzzling their furry heads against my body in an attempt to comfort me. As I pulled away, I admitted, “Talking about them doesn’t help. It only makes matters worse.”
“I understand how you feel. Everything is going to be okay, I promise. Let’s continue our morning walk with Hank and Gracie and enjoy the day together.”
Relieved, I nodded, and we continued down the road. Hank and Gracie glanced back at me occasionally to ensure I was okay. As we walked, the various smells around us began to capture their attention more than my presence. They trotted happily alongside me, their snouts pressed to the pavement, wagging their tails as they sniffed every tree.
“It’s chilly today,” Grandma said and shivered and then glanced at me. “How are you feeling? Any shortness of breath?”
“So far, so good, but I agree it’s super cold. Maybe we can cut our walk short.”
“Good idea, and I agree.”
Hank suddenly stopped, raised his nose, and howled. A few birds scattered from the branches above, startled by his abrupt call. Had he sensed something: an approaching storm or another animal nearby? Gracie’s ears perked up as she lifted her head and let out a softer but equally determined howl. My wolves stood side by side, their eyes scanning the horizon, alert to something I couldn’t see. Hank started tugging on his leash, and I pulled backward. “What is it, Hank?”
“I don’t see anything,” Grandma said, glancing around the area.
I peered between the trees, searching and feeling compelled to understand what Hank and Gracie were sensing. “They definitely smell something. Let’s check.”
“I am not sure if it is safe, Ethan.”
“Grandma, we need to investigate. If it’s an injured animal or more abandoned pups, we can call Marsha and have her send her wildlife team out here.”
“Fair enough.” Grandma nodded.
I released the slack on Hank’s leash and commanded, “Find it!
Hank and Gracie raced ahead, tugging Grandma and me along. Our breaths rose into the air like swirls of smoke. Frost covered the road, crunching beneath our boots as we followed my wolves. As we went down the road, the trees got thicker and thicker, reaching up to the pale sky, casting shadows, and blocking out the sun.
My wolves’ noses skimmed along the damp earth, sniffing. Occasionally, they paused to circle a spot several times before continuing on their determined path with their noses once again on the ground. They sped up and tensed their bodies as they focused on the trail that led us up the hill to a cliff that looked like the entrance to a cave.
Despite the cold, beads of sweat formed on my forehead, and a tightness spread across my chest. The familiar constriction gripped my lungs the higher we climbed. I couldn't wait any longer. I needed my medicine. Fumbling in my pocket, I reached for my inhaler. I could feel Grandma’s eyes fixed on me as I struggled to breathe.
Grandma’s voice was tense as she ordered, “Stop and use your inhaler. You’re having trouble breathing.”
“Hank is pulling me too hard. I can take a puff while I’m moving.”
“Nonsense,” Grandma said, taking Hank’s leash from me and bringing both Hank and Gracie to a halt. The wolves howled in protest. “There, now they’ve stopped. Please, Ethan, use your inhaler right now, and I mean it.”
I didn’t argue and put my inhaler in my mouth, pressed the button, releasing the medication, and breathed deeply. After a few seconds of inhaling and exhaling, the pressure lessened, and I put my inhaler back in my pocket. Gradually, the tightness in my chest vanished.
“Better?”
I nodded.
“I can’t risk your health for Hank and Gracie to chase down some scent. We need to turn back.”
“No, Grandma! I’m fine. If there’s an animal in trouble, we need to save it. I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t keep going.”
Her lips formed a thin line, and her brow furrowed with disapproval. Grandma knew that Hank and Gracie were not just my pets. They knew me better than any human. They were part of our family. I felt a deep responsibility to protect all animals, and my grandma knew that.
Again, I begged, “Please, Grandma.”
After several minutes of hesitation, she finally responded, “We’ll proceed, but if you have another episode, we’re finished.” She handed Hank’s leash back to me.
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
She huffed and waved me forward.
After hiking up the hill, we arrived at the cave, its dark entrance framed by jagged rocks. A thick fog floated within the darkness, reminding me of dry ice. I had my doubts about going inside. The cave floor could be unstable or wild animals could be hiding inside. And what if the air was thin and stale and triggered my asthma? But Hank and Gracie were insistent, pulling on their leashes to get closer.
Peering into the cave, Grandma asked, “Did you bring a flashlight?”
“No, I didn’t,” I replied, my eyes widening as a thought struck me. “I can use the app on my phone.”
When I pulled my phone out of my pocket, Hank leapt forward, yanking his leash from my grip. Gracie followed suit, breaking free from Grandma’s hand and racing after Hank. I switched on the flashlight app, flooding the cave with light. The beam flickered across dirt and jagged rocks. I pointed it upward, and Hank and Gracie running down a narrow passageway fell into view. The musty stench and distant sounds of water dripping grew stronger as we followed them.
“They must have found the source,” Grandma said, matching my pace.
My heart raced as fear tightened in my throat at the thought of something harming my wolves. “I’m freaking out,” I blurted, trying to keep my phone steady with trembling hands. I had no idea what this cave contained, whether it was safe, or what Hank and Gracie had stumbled upon. They never disobeyed me. Maybe Grandma was right about turning back.
“They’ll be fine. They’re strong creatures. Just try not to worry.”
“I’m trying not to.”
Hank barked sharply, his call signaling to me that he needed me. I rushed blindly into the cave, adrenaline coursing through me. The sound of Grandma’s boots brushing against the cave floor echoed behind me as she ran.
The flashlight beam caught something ahead, but the darkness obscured my view. Upon closer inspection, I saw Hank and Gracie circling something on the ground. Slowing down, I hoped it wasn’t an injured animal. As Grandma reached the spot ahead of me, she gasped. I stood still, unable to take another step. “Grandma, what’s going on? What is it?”
As her gaze turned toward me, she said, “Not a what, but a who. It’s a young woman, maybe 18 or 19 years old.”
“What?” I rushed forward, closing the distance to the scene. I halted just behind Grandma, who was kneeling beside an unconscious girl, curled up in a fetal position, wearing a hospital gown. Hank and Gracie stood close by. Her long strawberry blonde hair was a matted, tangled mess hanging over her face. Her pale skin stood out in contrast to the bruises and deep red cuts all over her arms, legs, and especially her bare feet. Pus oozed out of them.
Grandma was in full-on doctor mode, checking the girl’s pulse, listening to her breathing, and examining her numerous wounds. As she assessed the girl’s condition, her eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Jesus,” I whispered. “Is she alive?”
“Her pulse is weak, and her breathing is shallow, but she’s alive,” Grandma confirmed, her focus on the girl. “Her body temperature is low. It could be hypothermia. She’s wearing a wristband, but it’s not from the hospital in town.” She turned to me. “Give me your jacket. She needs to warm up.”
I removed my jacket and handed it to Grandma, who carefully wrapped it around the girl.
“We need to get her out of here and to my clinic immediately,” Grandma urged. “We can’t carry her, and I need my medical van. You’ll need to keep a close watch on her while I go get the van. Be prepared that you may have to perform CPR if her heart stops.”
My jaw dropped slowly as the weight of responsibility washed over me, sending a wave of anxiety coursing through my body. The thought of performing lifesaving measures on someone was terrifying. What if I screwed up? “I’m your bookkeeper. This is beyond my capabilities,” I said, gesturing toward the girl. “I can’t help her.”
“You can handle this. Besides, we’ve trained many times on all emergency procedures.”
The cave felt as if it were closing in around me. Memories of Grandma’s first aid lessons flooded my mind, each one a jumbled mess of instructions and distant recollections. I shook my head firmly. “No, I can’t do it. What if she wakes up and sees some guy standing over her? You know I’m not comfortable with people. She’ll probably freak out. Just let me go get the van, and you stay here.”
Grandma looked at me, as if weighing my suggestion, but her expression remained firm. “I understand your hesitation, but she needs medical treatment immediately. You’ll have to run to the house, Ethan. I can’t risk you having an asthma attack. It’s better if I go.”
The thought of being alone with an unconscious stranger filled me with anxiety. What if I made a mistake and ended up making things worse instead of better? What if her injuries worsened, and I wasn’t able to save her? Every rational part of me screamed at me to let Grandma handle it. I had to be the one to get the van. “I’ve hiked trails many times—maybe not up a mountain, but I’ve covered long distances without an episode. Plus, I have my inhaler. Please let me get the van, Grandma.”
She studied me for several minutes, probably envisioning various scenarios and their likely outcomes. After sighing, she relented. “All right. The keys to my van are in my office in the top drawer on the right side of my desk at the clinic, not my home office.”
I nodded and turned to leave but quickly faced Grandma again. My gaze shifted to Hank and Gracie. Instead of coming with me, they remained by the girl’s side. My brows furrowed in confusion. Why had they tracked her in the first place, and why were they so protective of her? Was it her injuries? The blood? The situation? It didn’t make sense.
“Ethan, what’s wrong?” Grandma asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I glanced at her before shifting my focus back to my wolves. “Hank and Gracie,” I said. “It’s odd how they’re behaving. They don’t even know this girl that they’re trying so hard to protect.”
“We can figure that out later. Right now, we need to get this girl to my clinic.” She waved me away. “Go now and hurry back. Stay safe.”
“I will.” I cast one final glance at Hank and Gracie before hurrying out of the cave.


About the Author

 

 Laura Daleo is an accomplished multi-genre author known for weaving captivating tales across dark fantasy, urban fantasy, supernatural/paranormal, sci-fi, and young adult fiction. Her acclaimed Immortal Kiss series showcases her unique take on vampiric lore, reimagining the origins of vampires through the lens of the Egyptian pantheon. Originally from San Diego, California, Laura now calls Tucson, Arizona home, where she shares her life with her two beloved dogs, Rose and Cooper.

Contact Links

Purchase Links

Amazon 

B&N

Kobo



RABT Book Tours & PR

Monday, December 1, 2025

Release Tour: Baby Cod Outside

 

RELEASE TOUR - Baby, It's Cod Outside by Kat Cassidy

Length: 47,000 words
Series: Silver Shoals #2
Prior Reading: Prior reading NOT required
Genre: Small-town, Holiday, Christmas, Rom-Com 
Tropes: Opposites Attract, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Confidence/Hidden Vulnerability
Trigger/Content Warnings: anxiety rep, on page panic attacks, loss from cancer (family member, past)
Designer: Kat Cassidy

https://getbook.at/SilverShoals2

With his CEO father away, Benjamin Whitaker III is left running the family empire. And, you know, trying not to implode from anxiety while he’s at it.

Local investigative reporter Jackson James smells something fishy going on at Whitaker Seafood, and it’s definitely not just the mackerel.

One’s trying to keep things clean and tidy. The other’s digging up some serious dirt.


This year, Silver Shoals isn’t dreaming of a white Christmas. Just a low stress week, a front page headline, and a way out of this very merry fish-mess.

Baby, It’s Cod Outside is a low heat, opposites attract, hurt/comfort, small town MM holiday romance. It can be read as a standalone.

EXCERPT:

Ben’s parked outside the used bookstore downtown, motor idling, the radioactive binder sitting in his lap. Snowflakes drift lazily by the windshield. The scene is pretty and painfully indifferent. He checks his watch again: 10:43 pm, still seventeen minutes early. Because of course he is. Panic loves punctuality.

He stares down his reflection in the mirror, telling himself that this is a person about to take back control.

The reflection does not look convinced.

Here, Ben’s anxiety helpfully starwipes to another slide in the ongoing horror-powerpoint entitled ‘Absolute Worst Outcomes of this Meeting’ that’s cycling in his brain: Jackson simply laughs at him and tells him to stop wasting his time. 

He’s mid-fantasy about reversing down the block when knuckles rap suddenly against his driver’s side window. Ben flinches hard enough to head-butt the visor. 

Window down, cold air in, along with Jackson James: snow-flecked hair, eyes crinkling above a scarf wrapped high against the chill. “Evening. Are you planning on loitering out here all night, or just until someone calls the neighborhood watch?”

“I didn’t realize you were already here. Thanks again for meeting me, Mr. James. And, uh, sorry about the dating app thing. It was kind of a desperation move.”

“‘Desperation move,’ huh?” Jackson repeats with obvious delight. Ben silently blesses the scarf for obscuring Jackson’s too handsome face, even as another, less helpful part of him regrets missing out on seeing that smile in full. “Exactly how every guy dreams of being described.”

Ben’s laugh cracks like ice. “I didn’t mean it like that. Obviously. I just didn’t really have a lot of options. Not that you’re a last resort. I just meant you’re...special.” He closes his eyes, briefly debating jumping out and running directly into the ocean. “Specialized! I mean specialized. Your skillset.” His brain is begging his mouth to stop to little avail.

A faint snort escapes Jackson. “Keep digging, Fish Prince. At this rate, we’ll hit bedrock in no time.”

“I’m sorry. It’s been... a lot today. I just meant you’re unattached. Er, professionally unattached. To Whitaker Seafood.” He forces himself to slow down. “You’re not connected to any of this and it seemed like yesterday… that you thought something was wrong. And it is. Something is very wrong. So I thought... I don’t know, maybe you were the person that could help.” He ducks his head, voice quieter now. “But if this was dumb, I get it. I can go.”

Ben braces for rejection.

Instead, Jackson’s posture shifts, some of the sharpness softening. “Hey. I’m not blowing you off, alright?”

And then, almost too casually, just rough enough, Jackson adds, “If anything, Mr. Whitaker, you’ve got my full attention.”

Ben swears the temperature spikes. Jackson’s gaze tracks over him, slow, deliberate, borderline indecent, before landing on the binder in his lap. Ben’s fingers twitch, instinctively drawing it closer.

Jackson gestures toward the bookstore. “Maybe we should take this inside?” he says, low and easy, like it’s just a suggestion and that everything that happens next is in Ben’s hands. Like the faint possibility, of what, Ben isn’t even sure, doesn’t spark a confusing mix of panic and excitement in his stomach.

Jackson steps back to give Ben room, rubbing his gloved hands briskly. “Before I lose my best typing fingers to frostbite, preferably.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Kat Cassidy is a romance novelist. She’s a dreamer, a schemer and, above all else, a believer in true love. She lives in Canada with her husband, her kids, and her lovable mutt, and she likes loud guitars and strong IPAs.

https://katcassidyauthor.com/
https://www.instagram.com/katcassidyauthor/
https://bsky.app/profile/katcassidyauthor.bsky.social
https://www.facebook.com/groups/katcassubcribers

https://gayromancereviews.com/
https://gayromancereviews.com/

#GayRomanceReviews #GRR #GRRTours #ReleaseBlitz #KatCassidy #SilverShoals #ChristmasBooks #HolidayReads #RomCom #FestiveRomance #OppositesAttract #BoysKissingBoys #QueerLit #BookShelf #OutNow #KindleUnlimitedRomance @gay.romance.reviews @gayromancereviews.bsky.social

Teaser: Unleashed By Eden

✨ T EASER : UNLEASHED BY EDEN by @authorjademay releasing August 25! #PreOrderHere :   https:// books2read.com/unleashedbyeden Why you will ...