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Book Title: The Earl’s Awakening Author: Joy Lynn Fielding Publisher: Extasy Books Cover Artist: Martine Jardin Release Date: September 8, 2023 Genre: Regency M/M romance Tropes: Rake/bad boy romance Themes: Learning to live, self-discovery. Heat Rating: 5 flames Length: 55 000 words/ 198 pages It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links Extasy Books | Amazon US | Amazon UK 
One glance, and his past life was history. Blurb Leander Talbot’s life changed forever when his wife died. He is now reluctantly venturing back into society, knowing that, as the Earl of Ockley, he must marry again to produce an heir. But he can’t bring himself to the sticking point. Instead, he spends his time evading the matchmaking mamas of the ton. The dark and dangerous Duke of Arden is an infamous libertine. It is said that he seduces innocents, and there are even more sinister tales whispered of his predilections. Only the wild young blades who form his retinue know the truth, but he is shunned by all save those wishing to court notoriety. A chance meeting brings Leander into Arden’s orbit. Ignoring the warnings about Arden’s intentions, Leander is drawn into a seductive world of sexual indulgence. There, he finds the freedom he craves from his overbearing family. By the time he suspects Arden might have ulterior motives, it may be too late to save his reputation—and his heart. Excerpt Leander sighed slightly. He had immersed himself in work and duty since Bella’s death, but it was only now he understood how removed from his contemporaries he had become. Most faces here were unfamiliar to him. Take the character in the corner—a dark complexion, his dress rich but careless in a way that proclaimed he cared little for the opinion of society. Leander was certain he had never set eyes on him, though the deference with which his circle of friends was treating him indicated that he was a man of some standing. He took the opportunity to ask the servant who brought him a glass of champagne. “His Grace the Duke of Arden, my lord,” the man informed him. The name was one with which Leander was familiar. It was a name with which all of London and some of the more enlightened provinces were familiar. Arden represented all that was decadent in the ton, his philandering ways extending far beyond opera dancers and actresses to ladies of quality. And it was not only widows or liaisons with married ladies, for it was said of him that he had ruined more than one young maiden. The number of duels that he had fought and won, the drunken orgies at which he presided, and his losses and gains at the gaming table had all assumed the proportions of legend. There were still darker things whispered about him. Only the coterie of wild young blades who formed his retinue knew the truth of these, but the intimations were there, and Arden remained unrecognised by all save those wishing to court notoriety. Leander became aware that Arden was returning his gaze, his heavy-lidded eyes holding what appeared to be a gleam of amusement. As Leander watched, Arden raised his glass in a mocking salute before putting it to his lips and tossing back the contents. Perhaps it was the champagne, perhaps it was the shock of realising that his acquaintances now viewed him as a prig. Whatever the reason, some demon prompted Leander to his feet. In defiance of all proper behaviour, he crossed the room to Arden and introduced himself. Those dark eyebrows raised briefly, a noble head was inclined, and one of the young men clustered around Arden was moving from his seat, offering it to Leander. “So you’re Ockley.” The duke’s aristocratic fingers curved elegantly around the stem of his glass and his dark eyes surveyed Leander as he sat. “I didn't think this to be your sort of place. I'd thought you more of a White's man.” The provocation was there. It was well known that Arden had been pre-emptively blackballed by the respectable club lest any member lose their faculties and propose him for membership. “Indeed?” Leander said stiffly, his somewhat lamentable temper aroused by Arden’s dismissal of him as a priggish bore. “And I thought you a legend, sir. A cautionary tale used by protective parents to keep young cubs in line.” Reaction rippled through the assembled ranks, but Leander’s gaze was on Arden's face. A smile touched his lips as he looked at Leander. “A palpable hit, Ockley,” he murmured. His voice was rich and soft, with a hint of steel that intrigued Leander. “Lea.” Henry's voice broke in. He was not precisely floored, but he was foxed enough to ignore all dictates of manners as he tugged insistently at his brother's arm. Knowing that if he resisted, Henry would only become more forceful, Leander allowed himself to be raised to his feet. His brother had been the same since nursery days—when he wanted something, he wanted it now, and it was usually attention he craved. Leander directed a small bow towards Arden, whose smile had widened at the spectacle Henry was making of them both, before following his brother's urgent strictures to leave immediately. About the Author Joy Lynn Fielding lives in a small English market town, where she indulges her passions for vintage aircraft, horse riding and gardening (though not all at the same time). Joy tends to wax lyrical about the fascinating facts she discovers during her research for books. Thankfully, she has a very patient Labrador who has a gift for looking interested in what she’s saying while he waits for the food to arrive. Social Media Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Newsletter Sign-up Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $15 Amazon gift card 
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  Linden took the book. “A yearbook?” “Yeah. It was published after I uh… left, but my sister saved it for me and I kept it.” He leaned close as Linden opened the yearbook and leafed through the pages. “That’s Jeremy.” Tyler pointed to a group photograph. “And that’s Dimas.” “But you told me Dimas and Julius didn’t know each other in high school. This picture says otherwise.” “I was in prison when this was taken. Honestly, I’ve never looked at this until now. My sister insisted I keep it because I might want it someday.” Linden smirked. “I like your sister. This picture was taken in front of a store. What can you tell me about it and the others in the picture?” “That’s a video-game-slash-comic-book store near the school. A few times a year they sponsored this sort of contest for groups to create role-playing games.” Tyler tapped the page. “The owners were a couple about my age, not too long out of college, and she was a relative—cousin, I think. Not a student.” “Why would she have a picture taken with them?” “I’d been working with the store and their contest to sponsor a similar thing for the students, using Sherlock Holmes mysteries. My thought was it could be a way to get them interested in literature,” Tyler explained. “Those kids were poor, not stupid, and I needed ways to engage them in getting an education that went beyond books.” There was another photograph beside it with Tyler, Jeremy, and Julius holding up a banner urging students to enter a contest. “That one was taken the day before I was arrested.” “That’s pretty clever. If I’d had a teacher do that, I might have taken more of an interest in reading the classics. Did the program ever get off the ground?” Tyler shrugged. “No idea. I never had much of a chance. But from this photo in the yearbook, it looks like it might’ve.” “So, two of the four people in this photo are dead, one is confirmed missing, and no ID yet on the girl.” Linden sat back and studied the book. “Maybe someone is taking this game and the competition a little too seriously. I’ll add it to my list of things to look into.” “Maybe I’m a little more freaked out than I thought, but do you think I could be a target too?” Linden looked directly at Tyler for a few seconds then glanced away. “Maybe when we can get out of here, you should come back to Arizona with me.” “Do you think whoever is killing these men might come after me too?” Tyler pressed. “I think being out here in such a remote area might not be the smartest course of action right now.” Linden paused, sighed, and ran his fingers over the yearbook page. “I think there’s more going on here. Like I said before, voluntarily or not, you’re involved in these murders.” Tyler turned away and swallowed hard. “Maybe you could use me to trap the killer?” “I don’t think—” They both flinched when there was a loud clunk and the power went out. Click on the banner to see the books!       A small white box with gold embossed writing advertising some store Riece had never heard of sat on the seat. Written over it in thick, black letters and in Mason’s handwriting was the word Riece. He silently picked up the box and held it carefully while he climbed into the seat, only setting it down long enough to snap on and adjust his seat belt. Mason took his place behind the steering wheel and started the Jeep, glancing at Riece as he put the vehicle in gear and guided them onto the road. “A little welcome-to-South Dakota gift,” Mason explained. Riece frowned and looked out the window. “But we’re in Montana.” “Not for long, and we’ll be working in South Dakota.” “We’ll be working in the Black Hills. That mountain range is approximately 125 miles long and 65 miles wide, covering not only western South Dakota, but also eastern Wyoming,” Riece said. “You sound like a talking travel brochure.” Mason sighed and shook his head. “I live in South Dakota. The office we’ll work out of is in South Dakota. I’m guessing you’ll live in South Dakota too.” “We’re not in South Dakota,” Riece reminded Mason. “Stick four or five of those taffies in your mouth,” Mason grumbled. “You like saltwater taffy. I know a place that sells amazing saltwater taffy. I thought you’d like some. Can’t you simply, for once, say thank you, enjoy your gift, and not nitpick over pointless specifics?” He used the palms of his hands to steady the steering wheel, stretched his fingers, then wrapped them around the steering wheel again. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen you in years, and the first thing I do is hurt your feelings,” Riece said softly. Mason reached over and took Riece’s hand, holding it gently without squeezing. The gesture was extremely intimate and one that had been common between them at one time. “No, you didn’t hurt my feelings. You frustrate the hell out of me sometimes—most of the time—but what you say is almost never hurtful. I know better.” He let go of Riece’s hand, nodding to the steering wheel. “Gotta drive.” It was the truth too. Riece knew that for a fact. He knew his communication skills were lacking, and somehow Mason had some innate way of knowing and, more importantly, accepting those traits in Riece. Maybe it was no different than the way Riece saw through what most people thought of as Mason’s brusque-bordering-on-asshole outward personality to the real man underneath. “Would you like some?” Riece unwrapped a flavor he knew Mason liked and offered it. Mason held out his palm. “Sure. Call and cancel your motel reservation.” Riece smiled and nodded. It only took a few minutes to complete the task, and he set his phone on his lap when he’d finished. Mason motioned to the dashboard. “There’s a hookup, so why don’t you plug your phone in and play us some driving music. Or if you’d rather, I still have the CDs you made. Those are in the glove compartment.” “You kept them? I didn’t think you liked my music.” Riece pulled out his phone, plugged it in, and chose a playlist. “Yes, of course I kept them. We’ll be at my friend’s place in a few hours. So, plenty of time for a nap if you’re tired,” Mason said. He pulled a threefold brochure from the visor and tossed it onto Riece’s lap. “That’s it. To answer your next five or six questions.” Riece smiled and opened the pamphlet. Mason leaned back and rested his elbow on the door, grinning when Riece said, “It’s close to Devils Tower. I like the name, Big Rock Inn.” “Devils Tower is a must-see,” Mason said. “You’ll like it, and since you’re now an official photographer of federal lands, maybe you can get some good shots. Tyler is a good guy, and the food there is great.” It took Riece a few seconds to sort out what Mason was saying since he sometimes tended to jump around when he talked. “How’s your dad?” Riece asked. He yawned. “He’s okay. His Alzheimer’s is bad enough now he has to live in a care facility, but I take him home with me when I have a few days off duty. He seems to enjoy it, though I’m not sure he always knows who I am.” “So, you gave up time with him to pick me up?”  Gone Away and the entire Circles series is available in
eBook, paperback and through Kobo Plus.   Linden was a bundle of mystery. Maybe that’s what Tyler found intriguing. Though if Linden continued thinking Tyler was some sort of possible criminal, it wouldn’t matter. He should stop playing fantasy scenarios in his head about a romance that was unlikely to happen. What he could do was possibly help Linden find clues to catch the real killer of Julius Hernandez. After giving the chili a few stirs, Tyler checked the flame on the stove and adjusted it lower. The chili would stay at a good temperature but not burn. He turned to the refrigerator again, opened the freezer section, and pulled out a package of frozen Texas toast with cheese and garlic. Those he put in the oven, and a muffled whoosh signaled that the oven was heating as well. “Smells good.” Tyler jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Linden said quietly. Tyler spun on his heels so fast he had to grab the refrigerator handle to keep from being thrown off balance and into Linden. “It’s… I… you didn’t. That’s okay.” Read many more diverse snippets in The Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Bait is available in eBook, paperback and through Kobo Plus.
Get the eBook for only $2.99 (normally $3.99)  My teaser this week is from Strays. Something strong and insistent against his chest held him down and shook him at the same time. He jerked upright, gasping and putting his arms up to protect his head. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and held fast. “Hey, hey… easy… you okay?” Daniel, the voice belonged to a man named Daniel. Kyle knew that voice. It was the man who’d rescued him a few hours ago. The memories came to him as the horror of his sleep cleared away and he was more awake. Leaning against the hands, he looked around. He was in a vehicle, but this was a Jeep. It was dark outside. When one hand left his arm and he felt the man lean to the side, Kyle wanted to cry and shout at him, plead with him not to leave. The inside of the Jeep was flooded with soft yellow light, and a second later the hand was back on his arm. Daniel let go of him again, this time to lift one hand to his head. Out of reflex Kyle pulled back, and Daniel froze. “Wh-where are w-w-we?” Kyle stammered. The sounds of water hitting the shore were clear and loud, but it was too dark to see much outside the Jeep. “I w-was dreaming. They broke my door in. People in some kind of black body armor and masks.” He looked at Daniel; the man was pale. “They just took me from my apartment.” Daniel’s hand was in motion again, brushing Kyle’s bangs from his forehead. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you, not with me around. I promised, remember? You’re safe.” Nodding, Kyle swallowed hard and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, horrified all over again when he realized how he must sound. “God, you must think I’m just a baby. I- I’m sorry to be—” He tried pulling away, pressing against the door of the Jeep. “Kyle,” Daniel’s voice sounded harder, but not unkind. “Look at me.” Kyle didn’t have much choice because Daniel grabbed his chin and forced him to look Daniel in the face. “No, I do not think you’re a baby. I think you had a bunch of goons crash through your door and take you. I think you were treated very badly and you’ve got every right to be scared. I’ve been on both sides of that door, and I was scared too.” Kyle relaxed. He was embarrassed. He liked this man and didn’t want him thinking he was some sort of wimp. He didn’t understand why this guy of all the people he knew was so important, why he wanted this man to like him back so much, but he didn’t care.  Strays is available in eBook and can be read through Kobo Plus.
RELEASE BLITZ 
Book Title: Footwork Author: TA Moore Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press Cover Artist: Tammy Moore Release Date: September 10, 2023 Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance Tropes: First Love, Second Chance, Bad Boy, Grumpy One and Sunshine One Themes: Forgiveness, second chances, family, redemption Length: 57 000 words/ 90 pages Heat Rating: 3 flames It is a standalone book set in the same world/town as the Dirty Deeds series It does not end on a cliffhanger Buy Links 
When your ex-boyfriend finally has the life he always wanted, it would take a real asshole to interfere with that…but not like Bode’s ever said he’s not an asshole. Blurb Bode Harlan has never claimed to be a good guy, but he’s trying to keep his nose clean and his head down these days. After a year in prison for assault--and to be fair, he did it--he isn’t looking to go back. Admittedly, his pretty face being the star attraction in an illegal underground fighting ring seems to run counter to that goal, but he’s gotta pay the bills and there ain’t much else he’s good at. And it keeps his parole officer off his back…since she runs the place. Then his mom skips town and her boyfriend kicks Bode’s 14 year old brother out on the street. Bode grew up in and out of foster care, he doesn’t want that for Danny. It’s not like he can take the kid in, though. He’s an ex-con who gets beat up twice a month for money. That’s how he ends up on his good-natured ex-boyfriend’s doorstep. Sonny is a soft touch. At least he always was for Bode. All he wants is somewhere to crash for a couple of nights, nothing more. Sonny’s got his life together now--a home, a boyfriend, even a dog--and it would take a real asshole to want to blow that up. …of course, Bode’s never said he wasn’t an asshole. Excerpt SONNY SLAMMED THE door. Or tried to. Before it closed, Bode shoved his boot into the gap, and the heavy wood bounced off leather and bone. Bode winced and had the balls to look put out. The cooking show Sonny had been halfway through rattled on in the background. It wasn’t the soundtrack that Sonny had imagined for his first reunion with his sort-of ex. That had either been Driver’s License or Bad Guy, depending on his mood. “Why do you assume I want something?” Bode asked. His hair was shorter than it used to be—making it look darker, more red than ginger—and a bruise had just started to bloom around one of his eyes. At some point, Sonny knew it would fade down to a marshy green that nearly matched Bode’s eyes. He’d seen that happen before. Back when Bode’s bruises had been Sonny’s business. That had been a while ago. “Why else would you be here?” Sonny asked. He could hear it in his voice—the dredged-up hurt, the once-broken heart—but he doubted Bode would notice. It wasn’t the sort of thing he cared about. Other people and how what he did affected them were not Bode’s area of expertise. Sonny checked the time. “At nearly midnight.” Bode shrugged, one-sided and laconic. “Maybe I wanted to tell you I’m out.” “You’ve been out for three months,” Sonny said. “Keeping tabs?” Bode asked with a slow, smug smile. It probably hurt as it creased along the edges of the bruise, but he didn’t let that stop him. “I didn’t know you still cared.” “I don’t,” Sonny said. It wasn’t true. He cared, but that didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t mean anything. “Just pointing out you’ve had plenty of time to drop by, yet this is the first time I’ve seen you. What happened? We keep missing each other?” “You always got up too early for me.” Sonny was surprised at how angry that made him. He wasn’t stupid. Bode knew that. So why stick to his stupid lie when they both knew Bode wouldn’t cross the street to see Sonny, not unless he had an ulterior motive. His temper felt like a head cold, the pressure of it at the back of his eyes. Usually it took him a long, grudging time to get mad about something, but Bode had been an asshole for years, so that pump was about ready to blow. Except Sonny didn’t like it when he lost his temper. He didn’t like being out of control. It never ended well. He bit the inside of his cheek, a knot of old scar tissue from the habit gritty between his teeth, and throttled the hot emotion back. “Right, well,” he said. “Whatever. If that was the only reason you’re here, job done. Now I know. I’m glad for you.” He opened the door. Bode had the balls to look smug, as if he’d known that Sonny would come round. More fool him. Sonny braced his hands flat against Bode’s chest and gave him a shove that made him stagger backward. “You can still fuck off,” Sonny repeated and slammed the door. He turned around and leaned back against the door while he waited. On the TV screen, a woman in a white chef’s coat was trying to do something to a side of beef with a coat hanger. The dog had taken the opportunity to crawl up onto the couch and bury her head under a cushion, as if there was no way Sonny would see her whole ass sticking out. Five. Four. Three. The idea that he might have gotten it wrong—that Bode might have actually fucked off—had just started to nibble at the back of Sonny’s mind. He hated—really, honestly hated—that it would bother him if Bode had. It wasn’t that he deluded himself that Bode couldn’t leave things unsaid with him—that was how Bode preferred to leave things. It was just that they’d known each other since they were kids, and Bode didn’t easily give up on anything he wanted. It would be weird if that changed now. No, the reason Bode was here was because he wanted something. And two… “I need somewhere to crash,” Bode said through the door. “Just for a couple of nights, until I sort something out.” About the Author TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided. 
Author Links Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter Instagram | Newsletter Sign-up | TikTok Giveaway Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a choice of backlist ebook (5 winners) or a $40 Amazon Gift Card (1 winner) 
My snippet this week is from Strays, a post apoc, scifi romance.  Daniel might not have particularly been a people person, but he wasn’t cruel either. Above all he was almost driven to watch over his newfound roommate, something he still didn’t understand, but couldn’t ignore either. “I don’t know what to do about this.” Daniel flicked one finger at the pictures. “I’ll have to turn them over.” “I know,” Kyle whispered. “I want you to trust me, too.” “So you want in the Militia, really want in?” “I’ve been lied to my whole life and they, the government I trusted, wants me dead.” Daniel quirked an eyebrow and sighed. “Good point. Okay, if you really want in, yeah, you need some training either way. Next guy you steal from might not be so nice.” Kyle grinned, making Daniel’s heart do a little flip flop, and followed him out the door. Read more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. September 10-16 Strays is only 99c (89c if you buy direct from me).
BLOG TOUR 
Book Title: Roustabout: A Carnival of Mysteries book Author: Morgan Brice Publisher: Darkwind Press Cover Artist: Dianne Thies Release Date: August 23, 2023 Genre: Paranormal MM romance Tropes: adversaries-to-lovers, hurt/comfort, forced proximity, rogue with a heart of gold, secret agent/con man, redemption arc Themes: overcoming the past, settling old wrongs, second chances Length: 230 pages Heat Rating: 4 flames It is a standalone book, but also part of the shared-world, multi-author Carnival of Mysteries series and is connected to Morgan's Kings of the Mountain series. It does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
A con man and a government agent walk into a carnival… Blurb Bartlett Gibson is a necromancer and an agent for the Tennessee Bureau of Supernatural Investigation. He’s hot on the trail of RJ Tucker, a psychic con man who has eluded him at every turn and led him on a merry chase. Pursuit leads to grudging respect in their game of cat and mouse, which becomes a high-stakes game of seduction. Bart chases RJ to the Carnival of Mysteries and realizes that nothing is as it seems. A dark witch’s curse ups the ante, creating a deadline for revenge and redemption, and the clock is ticking. Falling in love breaks all the rules. Can Bart and RJ stop the witch, break the curse, and find a way around RJ’s spot on the “most wanted” list before time runs out? Roustabout is a fast-paced MM paranormal romance filled with supernatural suspense, snarky humor, crafty carnival workers, sarcastic ghosts, midway magic, hurt/comfort angst, adversaries-to-lovers tension, and a very happy ending! Part of the multi-author, shared-world Carnival of Mysteries series. Can be read as a stand-alone. Excerpt But first, reckless as it might be, RJ had a date. He knew he was fussing too much over his hair—manicuring his stubble and manscaping— but it had been a long time since there’d been anyone to notice, and he was going to make the most of it. RJ wore his best shirt, a russet one that complemented his hair and warmed his pale complexion. Together with a new pair of jeans and a pair of Timberlands that were a rare splurge, he knew he cleaned up well. He drove to Rosco’s Barbecue and parked, then realized his palms were sweating as he gripped the steering wheel. It’s just dinner, he told himself. But nobody had ever made him feel like Bart did. He grew up fast on the circuit surrounded by roustabouts and wranglers who didn’t follow convention and largely lived outside the restrictions of polite society. RJ had plenty of boyfriends and lovers over the years. Those in the carnival life rarely expected permanence, and relationships seldom lasted more than a season. Moving from place to place had been a necessary distraction in those years. He hadn’t wanted more than temporary connections since he still mourned the people he had loved and lost. The dream of vengeance had sustained him, and for a long time, that was enough. But now, with the end of his quest in sight, RJ found himself wanting more. Maybe he could never tell a partner everything about his old life and the recompense he had dealt out, but perhaps he didn’t need to live in self-imposed solitude. After all, people in WITSEC get married. This isn’t too much different. God, I’ve got the cart before the horse. We haven’t even fucked properly, and I’m picking out china patterns. It’s just dinner. And maybe a blow job if I play my cards right. He went inside and looked for Bart. When he didn’t see the tall man waiting, his stomach tightened, fearing he had been stood up. Bart came in a moment later, looking harried. “Sorry. Work ran over. Have you been here long?” He looked like he really cared whether RJ had been worried. RJ relaxed and gave a broad smile. “Just got here myself.” His stomach growled. “It smells so good in here, and I’m starving.” They followed the hostess to a table. RJ saw Bart slip her a twenty to get a spot out of the thick of the fray. Rosco’s did a booming business, with food that deserved the buzz. “Did you have a good day?” Bart asked after they had ordered. RJ thought it was charming that Bart seemed flustered. Maybe he’s as out of practice as I am. About the Author Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy MM paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic and urban fantasy, with less romance, more explosions. All of the modern-day Morgan Brice and Gail Z. Martin series crossover, so characters from one series appear in cameos and on page in important secondary roles in books from other series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but the more you read the more the expanded universe of friendships and connections becomes clear. Morgan and Gail believe that paranormal elements make any story even better, and her worlds are full of ghosts, psychics, shifters, creatures, vampires, monster hunters, and magic. She's also a huge fan of the TV show Supernatural. (Chibi art by Kamidiox) Author Links Website | Audible Profile | Amazon profile Facebook Group | Facebook Page Pinterest (for Morgan and Gail) | Twitter Sign up for my newsletter and never miss a new release Read a copy of my Badlands short story Restless Nights here for free 
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There's a new hopepunk book out in the Writers Save the World anthology series from Other Worlds Ink: Transform the World. And there's a giveaway. FOURTEEN WAYS TO CHANGE THE PLANETIncome inequality is worse than it was in the Roaring Twenties. Corporations are moving fast and breaking things, and the social contract seems to be falling apart, aided by social media disruption and division on steroids. There has to be a better way. We asked fourteen sci-fi writers to come up with innovative ways the world could work better. Universal basic income, smaller communities, AI voting, and learning to live in harmony with nature are just a few of the ideas explored inside these pages. So buckle up and settle in for a look at the world of the future. The world’s not going to transform itself. “A satisfyingly diverse set of visions of the future that come from a single question: how could the world work better?... these short stories encourage dialogue and discussion about what elements could work better for the planet and its people. Libraries and readers looking for especially diverse, thought-provoking sci-fi forays into not only what works, but why, will find Transform the World a potent gathering of forces that juxtapose tales of hope, social inspection, and a feeling of peaceful opportunity into the sci-fi short story world.” — D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review About the Series Every year, we ask science fiction writers to tackle a "save the world" theme with an ultimately hopeful story about how the world might be changed for the better. Publisher | Amazon | Liminal FictionUniversal Buy Link | Goodreads Giveaway Other Worlds Ink is giving away a $20 Bookshop.org gift card with this tour. Enter for a chance to win: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47296/? Excerpt by Stephanie N Greene
Today I swam through MOMA. I’d already trained myself to not think about how filthy the water must be, or of sea snakes, both favorite topics of my boyfriend, Leon. Anyway, they say the water inside is filtered. By the time I got to the third floor, I was exhausted, despite the audio-guide retrofitted with a breathing apparatus. Perhaps it was just the excitement of it all coming together at last. Leon says it was a waste, encasing the art, then flooding the museum—frivolous and elitist. Do the homeless in Queens give a rat’s ass about some stunt like flooding MOMA? How many millions did it cost? I say it was a gesture of optimism. A Nothing Can Keep New York Down sort of thing, and for that triumph of technology and political will, priceless. Did folks in Queens get off on the first moon landing? You bet they did. It was mostly private donations anyway, which also galls Leon—that such big money would show up for the MOMA project. They even reinstalled Guernica. Treading water, I wondered what Picasso would say to his masterpiece becoming an aquarium decoration? The art can’t all be moved to the Poconos. Those of us remaining in the city need art more than ever. But this is a topic I’ve learned to avoid with Leon, so I argue both sides, back and forth, with myself. We work in what’s left of the city planning office. There’s an esprit de corps among us Remainers that we all try to sustain. Leon’s actually being pretty gracious about having been outvoted on the MOMA thing. I stayed for the longest time, studying Guernica. The agonized faces. The horror of war. In my darker moments I’ve wondered if it wouldn’t be better to get it over quickly, with fire, instead of this slow drowning. Then I looked to my side, and there was a giant grouper, equally entranced. I had to smile: I doubt he had to pay 50 bucks admission. There’s still a lot to rethink, not even counting underwater commerce. But by God, the docents all wore matching pink wetsuits. What spirit! I love New York. I’ll never leave. Well, not alive. The trick to survival is to remind ourselves that it’s not all bad: now certain high rises have saltwater swimming pools. Upping the rent for the privilege, of course. Swimming is standard in kindergarten curricula. You can buy a snorkel at corner kiosks that once sold only periodicals and candy. On high water days, gondolas cruise Houston Street. The fancy knee-high rubber boots fashionable New Yorkers used to sport when there were a few puddles are now standard. Even mid-emergency, we find ways to adorn ourselves, decorating boots with patterned duck tape and waterproof decals. Author Bios B. Morris Allen: B. Morris Allen is a biochemist turned activist turned lawyer turned foreign aid consultant, and frequently wonders whether it’s time for a new career. He’s spent the last few decades working on building public participation in government decision making. He’s been traveling since birth, and has lived on five of seven continents, but the best place he’s found is the Oregon coast. When he can, he makes his home there. In between journeys, he works on his own speculative stories of love and disaster. His story collection Chambers of the Heart came out in April 2022. Beth Gaydon: Beth Gaydon is an internet analyst living in Tennessee with her husband, kids, and dogs. She tries to be nice to the environment, though her thumbs are chartreuse at best. When she’s not busy with her family, she writes about whatever topic intrigues her that day. You can find her most recent work in The Sirens Call, The First Line, and On the Premises. Derek Des Anges: Derek Des Anges lives and works in London, UK, where the weather is getting less and less Classically British by the year. His work has appeared in anthologies from Parsec Ink, Calyx Press, and Ghoulish Books, among others. Gustavo Bodoni: Gustavo Bondoni is a novelist and short story writer with over four hundred stories published in fifteen countries, in seven languages. He is a member of Codex and an Active Member of SFWA. He has published six science fiction novels including one trilogy, four monster books, a dark military fantasy and a thriller. His short fiction is collected in Pale Reflection (2020), Off the Beaten Path (2019), Tenth Orbit and Other Faraway Places (2010) and Virtuoso and Other Stories (2011). In 2019, Gustavo was awarded second place in the Jim Baen Memorial Contest and in 2018 he received a Judges Commendation (and second place) in The James White Award. He was also a 2019 finalist in the Writers of the Future Contest. Holly Schofield: Holly Schofield travels through time at the rate of one second per second, oscillating between the alternate realities of city and country life. With not-so-hidden twin agendas of promoting environmental causes and inclusivity, Holly has had over 100 speculative short stories published in genres ranging from hard science fiction to magical realism. Her works have appeared in such publications as Analog, Lightspeed, and Escape Pod, are used in university curricula, and have been translated into multiple languages. J. Scott Coatsworth: Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were. He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends. A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA). Jana Denardo: Jana is Queen of the Geeks (her students voted her in) and her home and office are shrines to any number of comic book and manga heroes along with SF shows and movies too numerous to count. There is no coincidence the love of all things geeky has made its way into many of her stories. To this day, she’s still disappointed she hasn’t found a wardrobe to another realm, a superhero to take her flying among the clouds or a roguish star ship captain to run off to the stars with her. Jaymie Heilman: Jaymie Heilman is a daily swimmer and ocean geek with a PhD in history. She has written two books about the history of Peru and her climate-focused Young Adult novel is under contract for publication. When she’s not reading or writing books for kids, she’s usually gardening, biking to the library, or dreaming about the ocean. She lives in Edmonton with her husband, son, and a ridiculous number of books. JoeAnn Hart: JoeAnn Hart is the author of a prize-winning fiction collection, Highwire Act & Other Tales of Survival, the winner of the 2022 Hudson Prize, forthcoming from Black Lawrence Press, September 2023. Her most recent book is the crime memoir Stamford ’76: A True Story of Murder, Corruption, Race, and Feminism in the 1970s (University of Iowa Press, 2019). Her novels are Float (Ashland Creek Press) a dark comedy about plastics in the ocean, and Addled (Little, Brown) a social satire. Her short fiction and essays have appeared in a wide range of literary publications, including the Future Tense column of Slate.com, Among Animals 3, Fire & Water: Stories From the Anthropocene, Orion, The Hopper, Prairie Schooner, The Sonora Review, Terrain.org, Black Lives Have Always Mattered, and others. Her work explores the relationship between humans, their environments, and non-human creatures. O.E. Tearmann: Bringing their own experiences as a marginalized author to the page with flawed and genuine characters, O.E. Tearmann’s work has been described as “Firefly for the dystopian genre.” Publisher’s Weekly called it “a lovely paean to the healing power of respectful personal connections among comrades, friends, and lovers.” Tearmann lives in Colorado with two cats, their partner, and the belief that individuals can make humanity better through small actions. They are a member of the Science Fiction Writers of America, the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, and the Queer Sci Fi group. In their spare time, they teach workshops on writing GLTBQ characters, plant gardens to encourage sustainable agricultural practices, and play too many video games. Stephen B. Pearl: Stephen B. Pearl is a multiple-published author whose works range across the speculative fiction field. His writings focus heavily on the logical consequences of the worlds he crafts. Stephen’s Inspirations encompass H.G. Wells, J.R.R. Tolkien, Frank Herbert, and Homer, among others. Stephen uses local settings in his works where appropriate. His Chronicles of Ray McAndrews series, Nukekubi and Revenant, are set in the GHA and surrounding areas. His Tinker’s World series, The novels, Tinker’s Plague and Tinker’s Sea, and the short stories Tinker’s Toxin and Tinker’s Well are set in a future Southern Ontario. Stephen’s training as an Emergency Medical Care Assistant, a SCUBA diver, and his long-standing interest in environmental technologies have factored into all his Tinker series. Stephen Sottong: Stephen Sottong writes Science-Fiction and Fantasy. He is a 2013 winner of Writers of the Future and lives in Northern California behind the Redwood Curtain. A list of his publications is at: Stephanie N. Greene: Stephanie Greene’s short fiction has been published in Nostoc Magazine, Green Mountains Review, Sky Island Journal, The New Guard, Flash Fiction Magazine and The Writing Disorder. Her work has been long-listed for the Lascaux Prize for Short Fiction, nominated for inclusion in the Best of the Net Anthology and for a Pushcart Prize. As an organizer of the Brattleboro Literary Festival for the past decade, she has a blast championing new fiction at the LitFest every October. She is revising her second novel, A Perm For Mrs. Medusa, and lives on the family farm in Vermont with her husband, writer and artist Marshall Brooks. Xauri'EL Zwaan: Xauri’EL Zwaan is a mendicant artist in search of meaning, fame and fortune, or pie (where available); a Genderqueer Bisexual, a Socialist Solarpunk, and a Satanist Goth. Zie has recently published short fiction in The Sprawl Mag, the Simultaneous Times podcast, Neo-Opsis, Cossmass Infinities, and Galaxy’s Edge. Zie lives and writes in a little hobbit hole in Saskatoon, Canada on Treaty 6 territory with zir life partner and two very lazy cats. 
 The vampire stood silent, looking Blair up and down. For a minute he thought the vampire was going to turn him down, walk away, and blow their entire plan. Blair suppressed a shiver and swallowed, then offered his most charming smile. “Stay cool. I’m ten feet away and will be with you the whole time,” Forge said in Blair’s ear as a gentle reminder. Blair mentally squared his shoulders. “Just one drink and a name?” He touched the vampire’s forearm for a few seconds. “Varian.” Varian held out his arm, motioning to the exit and the bar. “So, how incredible is this stuff?” Blair asked as they walked. His admiration and near gushing over the art wasn’t an act. “It’s hard to imagine something so small and mundane could be turned into beautiful and valuable art.” He shook his head and slipped onto a bar stool. “And to think I’ve spent half my life working with this sort of technology.” He signaled the bartender. They ordered their drinks. Blair’s phone announced a text. He read it quickly and scowled, grumbling, “Jerks.” “Is there a problem?” Sighing heavily, Blair shook his head. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Juvenile records are supposed to be sealed.” He shrugged and rolled his eyes. “But if I can get into them and get information on someone, there are people who can get it on me. I’ve tried to put something I did when I was young behind me, but I can’t. I’ll never get any further in any company than I am now. Got passed over again for promotion. Kicker is, the guy who got the job can’t do a quarter of what I can and doesn’t even have a PhD, and I helped train him.” “What do you do?” “Computers. Specifically, cyber security. No one wants a man in charge who has a federal record, even if it’s supposed to be sealed. When I was a kid, I dabbled in the Darknet, hacking into a lot of things I shouldn’t have. I thought being a black hat was cool until I got caught.” Blair held his glass in both hands and leaned on the bar, sulking. “I can build a kickass computer and network, set up an entire system for a company, and train people how to use it, but beyond that no corporation is going to trust me. No one will allow me to have passwords for anything more than superficial layers of a system. I wanted to go into cybercrimes or analysis for the FBI or CIA. Can’t do those things either. I get to spend my life fixing font sizes.” Varian’s phone rang. “Excuse me. Business. I have to take this,” he said and turned so his back was partially to Blair. “You’re late. Where the hell—” Blair smiled and sipped his drink when he heard Sayyna’s voice in the phone. “He’s going to be very late, probably ten to twenty years late.” “Who is this?” Varian snapped. “That’s not important. I have something you want, and you have the means to help me get something I desire. Your colleague’s phone contains some very interesting information,” Sayyna said smoothly and hung up. Varian snarled and stabbed at his phone’s screen for a minute before he shoved it into his pocket. “Something I can help with?” Blair flicked his earlobe. “Vampire, so the hearing has improved since we last met.” He smiled. “But you knew that already.” Leaning closer to Varian, Blair lowered his voice. “Truth is, I’ve been looking for you ever since our night together. Damn hard tracking down a man who leaves no photographic evidence.” “You came here because of me?” Blair nodded and said, “It took me a few years, but I can be persistent.” Forge snorted and Blair cleared his throat. “But you didn’t even know my name.” Varian seemed very interested in this piece of news. “You left fingerprints and some…DNA. There’s nothing I can’t find. The trick is knowing where to look and how. Do you think cybersecurity is all about putzing around online putting up firewalls to prevent viruses? For instance, I found evidence of why you’re so interested in this exhibit. Now me, I like the art for the sake of what it is and how it looks. But you…” “You and the woman who called are working together?” “She thinks we are. She hired me to make some… adjustments to the alarms here,” Blair said. Varian leaned back and studied Blair. “Show me what you can do.” Blair pulled out his phone. “Connect to the hotel private Wi-Fi, issue a few command prompts, and…” Blair looked up and grinned when the lights in the room dimmed, then brightened, then flickered. “How would you like to make more money than any corporation will pay you in two years?” “And if I want more than money?” Varian smiled and laughed softly. “I think that can be arranged. The first thing I need is the phone the woman has. Bring it to me and we’ll talk some more.” “I’ll call you when I have it.” Blair finished his drink and stood up. “You’ll need my—” Varian stopped abruptly when Blair turned his phone around and showed him the screen. “I can get the contacts and numbers of everyone in a twenty-foot radius.” Blair turned the phone’s screen off and pocketed it. “Like I said, nothing I can’t find in the digital world.” Smirking, Blair tapped the top of the bar then walked away. Click the banner to see the collection.     |
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