Book Details:
Book Title: MANCALA MOON by Asa Bowers
Category: Adult Fiction (18 +): Adult Fiction (18 +), 242 pages
Genre: Literary fiction with magical realism
Publisher: Asa Bowers
Release date: December 2025
Content Rating: PG -13 +M: however there is one F - word in the book. So I rated it PG-13.
February 2 - March 13, 2026 Virtual Book Tour
Dot Ybarra doesn’t bluff. Fresh into her bounty hunting career, she’s already earning a reputation for results. But when a “routine” rogue bounty—taken as a favor to her lawyer cousin—turns lethal, she’s staring down a case with international reach, bodies in its wake, and the stench of power.
Her business partner, T.J. Roman, is hiding a secret. If Dot finds out … well, she can’t find out. It would end the effective partnership they’ve built. But the trail won’t wait. What should have been a clean pickup of a fellow military veteran spirals into a hunt through the shadows, where one wrong move could see them both buried in an unmarked grave.
To stop the predators at the center of a violent trafficking ring, they’ll have to go straight into its core—and make themselves the bait. Every step makes them vulnerable to each other as well.
The devil’s coming for them.
Dot plans to be the one still standing after he bites.
Book Details:Genre: Modern Western Thriller
Published by: Tule Mystery
Publication Date: January 19, 2026
Number of Pages: 285
ISBN: 9781969218651 (ISBN10: 1969218657)
Series: A BOUNTY OF SHADOWS, Book 2 {Amazon, Tule}
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Apple Books | Goodreads | BookBub | Tule Mystery
Two hours later, they had managed to corral the quickly sobering Freddy into the back of the Suburban, with no more eventful chases, and turn him over to the county jail. Freddy’s bail bondsman paid out their fair share of the bond and a huge tip after some hard pressing on T.J.’s part about the circumstances leading up to Freddy’s apprehension. Once the check was cashed, a celebratory late lunch at one of the best Basque eateries Dot had found in Boise was the best way to top off a successful day of bounty hunting.
Parked behind the Bar Gernika, she and T.J. sat in the back end of the Chevy Suburban with the hatch up eating chorizo sandwiches with smoked cod croquetas and a bowl of green olives dripping in garlic olive oil. Dot slurped down half of her Coke, then shook the ice in her cup.
T.J. pointed the remains of his smoked beef chorizo at her. “We should register for the SHOT show in Vegas.”
“Why?”
“Because we can.” T.J. pulled his duh face.
Dot rolled her eyes and bit into her sandwich.
“Have you ever been there?” T.J. asked.
She shook her head, wiping smokey chorizo juice from the corner of her mouth.
“The woman raised to be a hunter and a firearms collector has never been to the great SHOT show?” He lowered his reflective sunglasses and eyed her over the top of the rims. “Never?”
“You do realize my family wasn’t made of money.” Dot popped one of the croquetas into her mouth. “And that’s in the dead of winter, when we couldn’t just up and run off while we were in the middle of lambing season.”
“All the more reason you should go now.” T.J. grinned. “A lot of the best bounty hunters meet up there.”
Dot scowled at her partner and sometimes bunk buddy. “Lemme guess. You wanna show off your shiny new partner to the boys?”
“Maybe.” His grin turned devilish. “Or maybe I wanna see you kick their asses.”
Dot wadded up the sandwich wrapper and chucked it at T.J.’s head. “I’m not a toy.”
The crumbled ball of waxed paper bounced off his forehead and landed on the Suburban floor between them.
“Really? Then why are you so easy to wind up?”
“You sonofa—” Dot lunged for his throat but was quickly subdued.
Their moment of levity was interrupted by a shrill ring from T.J.’s phone.
“Damn it,” he snapped and patted down his body in search for his cell.
Dot found it lying on the makeshift floor behind his hulking frame. She snatched it up and checked the screen. She batted her eyelashes at T.J.
“Don’t you dare,” he snarled.
She pressed the green icon to answer the call. “Well, hello, cousin dearest.”
Lawyer-extraordinaire and covert purveyor of information, Vivian Montgomery was Dot’s second cousin. And apparently had earned a spot on T.J.’s contact list under the moniker of Hot Ass Lawyer.
“Dot? When did you start taking business calls?” Vivian asked, her brisk tone underscored by the sound of her heavy breathing.
“What are you doing?” Dot asked. “You sound like you’re saving the horse and riding a cowboy.”
“Oh, grow up. I’m on a treadmill. Put T.J. on the phone.”
“You shouldn’t run on those things. They destroy your knees and back,” Dot chided.
“When I want health advice from a cigar smoker who jumps from helicopters for fun, I’ll call.”
“I don’t jump from the helo. Unless it’s crashing. Even then, that’s sketchy shit.”
T.J., giving a rumbling growl, jerked the phone from Dot, and pressed it to his ear. “Vivian, what do you need?” He waited a moment, then with another low growl, pulled the phone from his ear and put it on speaker. “You’re on speaker.”
“I need a huge favor from the two of you.”
“When you say huge favor, how huge are we talking?” Dot asked.
“You know, I think I liked you better when you were a brooding, isolated eremite whose main goal in life was equal parts trying to piss off her mother and keep her out of trouble,” Vivian shot back.
“Love you too, coz.”
“Now shut up and let me finish.” The whining sound of the treadmill belt slowing echoed over the phone connection. “I just got a call from one of my colleagues. She had a client fail to appear today.”
“Shouldn’t the defendant’s bail bondsman be calling us?” T.J. asked.
“It’s … complicated.”
Dot smiled as T.J. groaned.
“Vivian, every time you rope us into one of your firm’s problems with their unruly children, we’re out money, time, and patience. We’re called bounty hunters for a reason. Bounty is in the name.”
“Roman, if you keep up the condescending behavior, I’ll expose your dirty little secret.”
“Dirty secret, huh,” Dot piped in. “What’s that?”
He thrust a finger at her nose. “None of your business. Vivian, if you so much as breathe out of line, I’ll make you regret it.”
“Will you do me the favor?”
T.J. stared at Dot, who shrugged as if to say, Why not?
“Fine. Mark my words, I’ll be cashing in on this huge favor sooner than you think.”
“I wouldn’t have bothered you with this, expect the guy is a veteran, and you two being veterans yourself, I figured he’d be more likely to work with you than anyone else.”
“What’s on his file?” Dot asked.
“That’s the complicated part. Officially, his file says he was picked up a third time for carrying with the intent to sell. Unofficially, he’s … classified.”
Dot frowned as she and T.J. locked eyes. As a former army ranger who spent a lot of time flying in and out of forward operating bases in Afghanistan, T.J. knew all about classified situations. Dot, as the main helicopter pilot shuttling him and his team back and forth, though never read in on his actual missions, typically was under strict orders of her own.
“Vivian, I’m not getting fuzzy feelings about this,” T.J. said.
“Neither am I. It’s why I’m calling the two of you in. The judge wants to issue a bench warrant. My colleague was able to ask for a delay before it’s submitted. She was given three hours to present her client or the warrant is released. If you’d rather, you could consider this job PI work instead of fugitive recovery.”
The shingle hanging outside their business office did say private investigators. At this point, that title belonged to T.J. and T.J. alone.
“Still not selling me on this,” he said. “If there’s no bench warrant, there’s no cash for catching him.”
“Hang on.” Vivian spoke to someone, her voice muffled, then she was back. “The firm will pay you a finder’s fee.”
T.J. continued to stare at Dot. She could sense what he was thinking. He was torn. Take this off-the-cuff job and cash in on the favor department with Vivian to help a fellow veteran? Or say fuck it and play hooky for the rest of the day like he’d planned?
Dot didn’t really have much of a say in the business dealings of their partnership since she was eight months into the training phase as a fugitive recovery agent and she wasn’t a licensed PI. It didn’t stop T.J. from pressing her for her opinion, who argued that, because she was about to start taking bounties on her own, she needed to take the reins more often.
“If it helps you make a decision, I’ve got his last known address and a phone number along with a photo,” Vivian said. “This won’t be a hard catch.”
“Stop saying that. Every time you tell me it’s an easy one, it turns into a disaster,” T.J. snarled.
“He’s right,” Dot added.
“Okay, I retract my statement. But, please say yes. Huge favor to me. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
Dot glared at him.
“Within reason,” Vivian shot back.
“We’ll do it,” Dot said, tired of T.J.’s runaround. “Send us the four-one-one, and we’ll go check it out.”
T.J. glared at her; his dark eyes flashed a warning. Dot returned his glare with a smug look of her own that dared him to bring it.
“Thank you, coz. Hurry. There’s only two hours left before the bench warrant goes out. Then it’ll be a free-for-all.”
“You couldn’t have called us about this an hour ago?” T.J. groused.
“Shut your yap, Roman,” Vivian said. “There. Info sent.”
His phone dinged.
“His name is Cade Porter. He was a staff sergeant in the Marine Corps.” Vivian sucked in a breath. “Oooh.”
“Oooh, what?” T.J. insisted.
“If this is right, he was in an artillery unit.”
“Oh my God.” T.J. groaned.
Dot grinned. Not only did acting on a favor for Vivian chafe T.J. in the chaps, but doing it for a Marine with explosives expertise was going to make that chafe burn. Throughout their long, storied history, there had always been a deep-seated friendly animosity between the army and the Marines. Push came to shove, however, they still had each other’s backs.
“If that crayon eater blows us up, I’m going to haunt you,” he said.
“I look forward to the visits. Now get going.” Vivian ended the call.
T.J. shoved his phone in a side pocket of his cargo pants. “Tell me again why we let Vivian help us out?”
“Because,” Dot said as she scooted out of the SUV’s backend, “she’s good for the money. And I trust her intel more than I would some of your bail bondsmen.”
“You say that because you’re biased.”
“Nire familia da. Garrantzitsua da.”
T.J. paused before closing the hatch. “I speak Pashto, Arabic, some Spanish, and Oklahoman. I do not speak Basque.”
Dot chuckled. “Time to learn, Danger Ranger.”
“Load up and let’s roll.”
***
Excerpt from Bait the Devil by Winter Austin. Copyright 2026 by Winter Austin. Reproduced with permission from Winter Austin. All rights reserved.
INTERVIEW:
If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be?
It’s going to take a long time to get to your goal, but you never give up. It’s a lot harder than it looks too.
Favorite childhood memory involving books?
Most every memory I have involved books. When I went horseback riding, I pretended to be reliving scenes in the westerns I was reading at the time. (I rode alone most of the time for this work and had a fantastic horse who knew where he was going.) Books have always been a part of my life even from an early age. My parents read to me when I was a baby, and when I was strong enough to sit on my own and crawl around, my mom would find me with a book in my lap and babbling out the story to myself.
If you could dine with any literary character, who would it be and why?
Only one?! If I had to choose only one, I guess it would be Walt Longmire from the Longmire series. I have a penchant for getting old war dogs to tell me their stories, some they have never revealed to anyone else, and I think I’d get Walt to reveal a few. Also, he’s so much like one of my great uncles it would be like reliving my childhood all over again. A few drinks at the Red Pony with Henry and I’d be in heaven.
Did you want to be an author when you grew up?
Yes, I did. It’s a part of me and it all stems back to reading my first Walter Farley Black Stallion book and learning he had become an author at a young age. Then I earned the right to go to a young writer’s conference with a mystery, all very 4th grade-ish. The love of writing and a sense of purpose was cemented. And here I am today, living my dream.
If you could own any animal as a pet, what would it be?
Well, since I’m a farm gal, and have had a lot of the animals that were actual pets and some that became pets that probably shouldn’t be. Hopefully one day here very soon, I’ll be on my own farm property where I plan to keep a herd of goats, some as show goats for my nieces and the rest as working goats, and keep a few horses and cattle, along with a huge flock of chickens and dogs and cats for pest control. Yeah, nothing really out of the norm here.
How do you select the names of your characters?
Names are usually picked in regard to family heritage and setting location. Once I have a few narrowed down, I let the characters tell me who they really are and go from there. But sometimes, a name will come to me out of nowhere, and I know who that belongs to.
If you could live in any time period, what would it be and why?
1850-1900’s As bad as death and sickness were along with war and hate, I feel this was my time period. I’ve always wanted to brave those wilds of western America and live among the people there. I’d love to hope that I would not be a product of my upbringing and be exactly like I am now, but it’s hard to say.
When did you write your first book?
I want to say it was the handwritten western I wrote the summer before I started high school. I wrote a lot of stories and fan fiction—though I didn’t know that was what I was doing at the time—but my first real book had to be that western.
What sparks your creativity/how do you get your ideas?
Reading and watching shows that are inline with what I’m writing at the time. I need that creative outlet and that’s where I get it. Listening to music while I’m driving to and from work helps a lot with the imagination and fuels future scenes in my books too. Real life will filter in as well, adding to that adage of What if?
What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
Just nap. I’m so busy all the time with work, family, my animals, upcoming goat show schedules along with fairs and writing, just decompressing and taking a nap is nice. I love to cook and bake too, and have taken a serious turn into preserving and canning in the last few years, which is tedious, but extremely satisfying for me because I’m always looking to learn new things and excel at it.
Winter Austin perpetually answers the question: “were you born in the winter?” with a flat “nope,” but believe her, there is a story behind her name.
A lifelong Mid-West gal with strong ties to the agriculture world, Winter grew up listening to the captivating stories told by relatives around a table or a campfire. As a published author, she learned her glass half-empty personality makes for a perfect suspense/thriller writer. Taking her ability to verbally spin a vivid and detailed story, Winter translated that into writing deadly romantic suspense, mysteries, and thrillers.
When she’s not slaving away at the computer, you can find Winter supporting her daughter in cattle shows, seeing her three sons off into the wide-wide world, loving on her fur babies, prodding her teacher husband, and nagging at her flock of hens to stay in the coop or the dogs will get them.
She is the author of multiple novels.
AuthorWinterAustin.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @WinterAustin
Instagram - @iasuspensewriter
Facebook - @author.winteraustin
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The Bistro La Bohème Complete Series Box Set: 7 Parisian Romantic Comedies
Alix Nichols
Publication date: February 25th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
Love rom-coms packed with banter, warm fuzzies, and spice?
This complete series box set has you covered.
7 full-length romances. One Paris café. Pure binge reading.1. Falling for Emma — a redemption romance
Rising star of French soft rock Cyril is blind, talented, and broken. Graphic artist Emma lives in her sister’s shadow, hiding her love for Cyril… until the day she decides to give fate a helping hand.2. What If It’s Love — a second-chance romance, Dante Rossetti First Place Winner
When the hottest man in Paris, Rob Dumont, shows interest in geeky, introverted heiress Lena, she suspects something fishy. And she’s right to.3. Winter’s Gift — a modern Cinderella romance
When tech mogul Anton and elite call girl Anna cross paths over the holidays, neither can deny that what they share is special. But it threatens the principles they’ve lived by for years: love is poison, and don’t trust anyone.4. Under My Skin — a love triangle romance
After three years of no contact, up-and-coming politician Mat Gerard believes he’s over his crush on sassy barmaid Jeanne Bonnet… Or is he?5. Amanda’s Guide to Love — an opposites-attract romance, Kindle Scout Winner
One uptight career woman down on her luck. One free-spirited blackjack player. One wild, no-strings night that changes everything…6. An Autumn in Paris — a single-parent romance
For single mom Dana, passion is a thing of the past. When she meets handsome vet Thomas, will she dare to love again?7. The Devil’s Own Chloe — a friends-to-lovers romance
can he save his high school crush Chloe from herself?“Ooh-la-la! Fun and entertaining.” (USA Today Bestselling Author Ann Omasta)
“The twists and turns will keep you hanging off the edge of your seat, and the magical setting will reel you in.” (Romantic Times)
Follow a close-knit group of friends as they fall in love—one swoony Parisian romance at a time.
—
PRAISE FOR THE BISTRO LA BOHEME SERIES
“Such a hoot to read you won’t want it to end.” — RT Book Reviews
“All the hallmarks of a good romance, and a lovely Parisian setting in the form of the quirky little La Bohème cafe and its circle of patrons.” — The Midwest Book Review
“Enchanting” — Kirkus Reviews
“An exceptionally entertaining contemporary romance.” — Readers ’Favorite
“Few authors possess the ability to make a book both somber and funny the way Alix Nichols does.” — Blog Up Close and Literal
“A touching, steamy, smile-filled swoonfest.” — Jackie D. on Goodreads
Author Bio:
Alix Nichols is a caffeine addict, a longtime fan of Mr. Darcy. She pens sexy romantic comedies and romantasy. At the age of six, she released her first book. It featured highly creative spelling on a dozen pages stitched together and bound in velvet paper.
Decades later, she lives in France and still writes. Her spelling has improved (somewhat), she has become a Kindle Scout winner, USA Today bestseller, Book Riot's Top 100 Must-Read International Romance author, and Amazon All-Star.
GIVEAWAY!
The Bistro La Bohème Blitz
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Nerdy Girl Nell
Lindsey Gray
(Nerdy Girl Novels, #2)
Publication date: March 17th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Sports
Nell De Lacy loves small things like leading library story time, a well-stocked bookshelf, and evenings with friends. Relearning how to date after grief was supposed to be the hardest thing.
Enter professional wrestler Chance Robicheaux. Towering, tender, and utterly relentless about keeping her safe. The two become friends first, spending nights learning each other’s quirks. Between hospital rooms and poker nights, the two find something electric and real.
Nell’s life suddenly fractures with a violent assault, a cache of stolen images, and a blackmailer who won’t be denied. As the threat tightens and the press draws near, Nell’s voice, literally and figuratively, fails her at the worst possible time.
With the De Lacy family company’s December board vote approaching, Nell faces a critical challenge that threatens to upend her life. The outcome of the vote carries the risk of awarding a coveted contract to the wrong people, forcing Nell to balance family loyalty, legal danger, and a secret that could change everything.
Nell and Chance’s is a story about rebuilding, of finding courage in therapy and friendship, and discovering there’s strength in asking for help. Nell’s fight becomes Chance’s fight, and soon they choose to fight evil together. Will justice arrive before the quiet she loves is gone forever?
Goodreads / StoryGraph / Fable / Amazon US / Amazon UK / Amazon Can / Amazon Aus / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks / Smashwords / Vivlio / Everand / Bookshop.org
Author Bio:
Lindsey Gray is a writer, an over-thinker, and a chronic list-maker, but her passion for writing stories you'll love always tops the list. Her author journey began in 2010 with the publication of her first novel, and she has spent the last decade creating worlds for readers to play in. In addition to her own work, Gray utilizes her skills formatting novels for other authors and hosts the weekly show, Gray Matters, on TMV Cafe Internet Radio. She lives and writes fueled by iced tea, her handsome hubby, and the beautiful chaos of mothering her children.
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / X / Threads / TikTok / Instagram / BlyeSky / StoryGraph
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Rhythm and Design
Long Temple
(The Rhythm and Design Series, #1)
Publication date: May 18th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
A soulful architect. A gospel-rooted musician. A love built to last.
Rhythm and Design: A Platinum Chocolate Romance is a powerful story of purpose, passion, and divine timing.
Claire Baldwin is used to building beauty from structure—dreaming in blueprints, raised among silver spoons and Ivy League expectations. Focused, brilliant, and untouchable, love was never part of the plan. Until one almost-mistake in her youth taught her the price of giving too much to someone who offered too little.
Oliver Jamison Graham, the son of a revered pastor, walked away from the pulpit and into the chaos of the music industry. Between neon stages and lonely hotel rooms, he searched for something sacred—something real. Music filled his nights, but his faith kept whispering him home.
When Claire and Oliver’s paths collide again, it isn’t just chemistry—it’s destiny. But building a life together means facing the unspoken: the pasts they’ve tucked away, the faith they’re still figuring out, and the families who’ve prayed them into purpose.
Together, they’ll navigate ambition, intimacy, trust, and spiritual alignment in a romance steeped in grace, humor, and honest love. Can two people from different rhythms create a design strong enough to stand?
If you love later-in-life second chances, clean-but-steamy romance, emotional depth, and characters who wrestle with faith as fiercely as they fall in love—Rhythm and Design will leave you breathless and blessed.
—
EXCERPT
Claire adjusted the delicate strap of her silver gown, her fingers brushing the smooth satin as laughter and music drifted through the warm summer air. The garden shimmered beneath strands of soft white lights, each glow reflecting off crystal glasses and polished silver like tiny promises suspended in time.
Tonight was meant to be simple — a celebration, a farewell, a graceful closing of one chapter before she stepped into the life she had so carefully designed.
But life, she was learning, rarely followed clean lines.
She felt it before she saw him — a subtle shift in the atmosphere, like the hush that falls just before the first note of a song.
Oliver Graham stood near the stage, tall and steady, dressed in black that seemed to absorb the light around him. He carried himself with an ease that wasn’t practiced, just lived — the quiet confidence of a man who had known both applause and solitude, who understood the weight of purpose even in celebration.
Claire’s breath caught, surprising her.
It had been years, yet something about him felt familiar, like a melody she’d heard long ago but never fully released.
As if sensing her gaze, Oliver turned. Their eyes met across the veranda, and the world seemed to narrow to that single moment — music fading, conversations dissolving into a distant hum.
He didn’t smile right away. He simply looked at her, as though taking in the woman she had become, measuring something deeper than appearance.
Then came the slow curve of a knowing smile.
Heat crept up Claire’s neck, and she looked away, steadying herself with a sip of champagne that suddenly felt warmer than it should.
Moments later, his voice — smooth and rich — settled beside her like velvet.
“You’ve grown into everything they said you would,” he said softly. “Your parents couldn’t stop talking about you. Yale. Full scholarship. Future architect of the century.”
Claire laughed lightly, surprised by the warmth in his tone. “They said all that?”
“They should’ve said more,” he replied. “Yale’s lucky to have you.”
Something in her chest softened — a quiet recognition she hadn’t expected, like a door opening somewhere deep within her carefully guarded heart.
The music shifted, laughter swelling around them, but Claire felt as though she were standing inside a pocket of stillness.
“And you?” she asked. “Still changing the world one song at a time?”
Oliver smiled, a hint of humility softening his features. “Trying to. Mostly just trying to stay honest.”
Honest. The word lingered between them like a promise neither had spoken aloud.
When Oliver later stepped onto the stage, the crowd quieted instinctively, drawn to the calm gravity he carried. He adjusted the microphone, glanced toward Claire, and said, “I wrote this for tonight. It’s called Beyond the Horizon.”
The first notes drifted into the night like a prayer — tender guitar, soft percussion, a melody that seemed to breathe with its own quiet life.
Claire stood still as the lyrics wrapped around her, each word reflecting pieces of her journey — the late nights bent over drafting tables, the silent prayers whispered into the dark when doubt tried to settle in, the relentless pull toward something greater than comfort.
The road is wide, but your steps are sure, drawn to purpose, built to endure…
Her fingers tightened slightly around her glass as emotion rose unexpectedly, catching in her throat. She had spent so many years building strength, focusing forward, refusing distraction — yet here she was, undone by a song that seemed to see her more clearly than she saw herself.
Oliver’s voice carried warmth and depth, every note grounded in sincerity. When their eyes met mid-song, something unspoken passed between them — not a spark, but a steady flame, quiet and certain.
By the final note, silence lingered for a breath before applause rose like a wave across the garden. Claire barely heard it. Her hand rested lightly against her chest, as if holding something fragile and new.
Later, when the music shifted into a softer groove and guests drifted toward the dance floor, Oliver found her again near the edge of the veranda.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
Claire nodded, a small smile touching her lips. “I am now.”
They stood close, not touching, yet aware of each other in a way that felt both new and strangely familiar.
“I’m heading to New Haven tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Three weeks early. I want time to settle in… start fresh.”
Oliver’s expression softened, admiration flickering in his eyes. “That sounds exactly like you. Always building the next chapter before anyone else even sees the blueprint.”
She laughed softly. “You expected anything less?”
“Not a chance,” he said. “You’re building your future with intention. That’s rare.”
The music swelled around them, couples swaying beneath the lights, laughter rising into the warm night air.
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward — it felt full, like a pause meant to be savored.
“Don’t disappear on me,” Oliver said finally, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
Claire raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to Yale, not Mars.”
He laughed, then handed her his phone. “Still. Just in case I feel like sending musical inspiration.”
She entered her number, her fingers brushing his briefly, a small spark of awareness passing between them.
As he stepped back into the crowd, Claire watched him go, the night humming with possibility.
For the first time since she began mapping out her future, she allowed herself to consider that maybe life wasn’t only about structure and certainty.
Maybe it was also about rhythm.
About unexpected harmonies.
About moments that couldn’t be planned — only felt.
And as she looked up at the stars scattered across the velvet sky, Claire felt something shift quietly inside her.
The future she was building suddenly felt wider.
Not just a design.
But a song.
Author Bio:
LongTemple is a contemporary Black romance author and visual storyteller whose work is rooted in emotional truth, spiritual reflection, and the resilience of love shaped by lived experience. Her stories explore pain, struggle, faith, healing, and the quiet triumph of choosing connection again—especially later in life, when love carries history and meaning.
Born and raised on New York City’s vibrant Lower East Side, LongTemple writes with a voice shaped by culture, memory, and survival. Her storytelling carries a musical cadence—sometimes aching, sometimes soaring—always grounded in honesty and soul. She centers grown, layered characters who confront grief, betrayal, forgiveness, and hope, and who discover that love, when chosen with intention, can still be transformative.
She is the creator of the Platinum Chocolate Romance Universe, a body of interconnected contemporary romance and women’s fiction that celebrates mature Black love and second chances. Each novel is paired with a companion adult-themed line art coloring book, offering readers a reflective, immersive experience that extends the story beyond the page and invites creative engagement alongside emotional connection.
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Rhythm and Design Blitz
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Until the Truth Comes Out: A Novel
Melanie Summers
Publication date: February 5th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
A rockstar at the height of his fame.
A wife on the edge.
A secret that can’t stay hidden.
And a single night that will change everything.In the spring of 1997, Zane McCreight and his wife, Sienna, appear to have it all—sold-out stadiums, magazine covers, and the perfect family. But behind the image, their marriage is fracturing, and a scandal is quietly spiraling out of control.
As Zane’s band prepares for a massive tribute concert in the desert—under the eerie glow of the Hale-Bopp comet—tensions rise. Lies are told. Loyalties are tested. And two women find themselves trapped between ambition, betrayal, and the impossible weight of motherhood.
Then, on the night of the show—while the world is watching the stage—the youngest two McCreight children vanish.
Emotionally complex and deeply character-driven, Until the Truth Comes Out is a gripping tale of fame, marriage, the devastating cost of keeping secrets—and the strength of the women left to carry it all.
—
EXCERPT:
The Concert Under the Comet was set to take place just as Hale-Bopp reached its closest distance to Earth. There had been some concern all week that a bank of clouds might ruin the show. But thankfully, they drifted away that morning, allowing the stars—and the single streak of light that would get twenty-thousand rock fans out into the Mojave Desert on a cool spring Saturday night—to show themselves.
But it wasn’t only the comet they’d come to see (all of them either wildly rich or beautiful enough that someone with money would shell out eight thousand dollars for a single ticket). It was the lineup of stars. The biggest names in the music industry were there, several of whom would take the stage together for the first and last time. It would be televised around the globe, making it bigger than the original Woodstock. More important than Live Aid ‘85. Filled with more star power than a Vanity Fair Oscar party. It was a tribute to a dead legend. The rise of a new star. The end of innocence for one lost teenager. It would be the greatest reconciliation of any celebrity couple in history. Or it would be their demise. Those last two things would remain up in the air until morning.
The location was a well-guarded secret. It had to be if they were going to keep the riffraff away. The riffraff could watch via pay-per-view for a whopping $49.95 (the highest priced pay-per-view event up to that point in time). The record label executives, production team, and cable provider were certain the riffraff would be all too happy to pool their cash so they could say they’d been a part of it when they got to work the following Monday. They were right.
Two hours before sundown, the audience would be brought to the location in a steady stream of air-conditioned buses, limousines, and town cars. The lights would go up. The music would play. People would cheer themselves hoarse and drink and dance and sing along (most of them off-key, depending on how many drinks they had). When they’d go back to Las Vegas, their drivers would turn on the heat for their now-chilly, exhausted passengers. The drivers would be relieved they weren’t rowdy and out of control. Instead, they were dead quiet as the shock of what happened lingered.
That afternoon, five-month-old Elliott (who always went straight to sleep in the car) dozed through the long ride under the bright afternoon sun. Later, when the sky grew dark, his mother, Claudia Crawford, would point up at it and tell him about the comet, knowing he wouldn’t understand, but hoping it would somehow leave a faint imprint on his fresh, new mind. Claudia would give the performance of a lifetime that night. She was the only woman who’d been part of The Vows, but she wouldn’t play with them that evening. She would go on alone for reasons the audience wouldn’t understand until after.
Claudia had planned to leave little Elliott back at the hotel in Vegas with her very reliable French nanny. Only the nanny went out dancing the night before and never came back, so Claudia was forced to bring him to the desert and leave him in the care of two teenage girls she barely knew. But everything would be fine. Elliott would be safely tucked away in a holiday trailer nearby with the girls watching over him, and Claudia would only be gone for forty-five minutes. An hour tops.
But of course, that’s not what happened. Things ran late, as they do at these events, and she ended up leaving him for the better part of two hours. By the time she returned to the trailer, it would be empty.
Before long, she would find herself groping her way through the impossibly dark desert, screaming his name, gripped by a panic that only fills a parent whose child has vanished. It would occur to her that she might never again hold her baby. Never press his chubby cheek to hers, never smell his neck, never hear him laugh again. She might never hear him speak his first words or watch him take his first steps. What if he never got to do those things? What if he was already dead?
Her knees would give out, and she’d slide to the cold ground, and she’d be disgusted at herself for letting her emotions overwhelm her. She’d be hauled to her feet and ordered to keep going by the last person on earth she expected to help. Although her companion was only there because her child was missing too.
Author Bio:
Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.
Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.
In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally - then she'll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for 'K' Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn't require makeup and/or nylons).
Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she's not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken 'from above'. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something--more like just staying until they turn the lights off.
She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.
GIVEAWAY!
Until the Truth Comes Out Blitz
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When Time Flies
Jennifer Moreno
Publication date: February 3rd 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance, Time-Travel
She was just a flight attendant…until she landed in her past.
Indy Kash is a corporate flight attendant, jet-setting with the rich and famous in a world most only glimpse through glossy magazine covers. But beneath the polished service and designer luggage lies a past she’s spent years trying to forget. When a mysterious time-slip yanks her mid- flight into the trauma that derailed her life thirteen years ago, Indy is forced to face the crime that destroyed her future—and the man who made sure she took the fall.
Back in the present, he’s suddenly on board her jet, and Indy’s thrown into a battle across time to stop him from destroying the world. With a reluctant spirit guide, a crash course in time travel, and a love she never saw coming, Indy must untangle the past to rewrite her future.
Can she finally clear her name, save the world, and discover if time really does heal all wounds?
—
EXCERPT:
The old rage from my liver rose, and my intestines churned like an electric whisk on the lowest speed. I was a cliché of both Chinese medicine and Ayurveda. The fact that my shame, anger, and fear culminated into Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD) really made me textbook. As the spiritual experts would say: You keep holding onto old crap.
I’d tried everything to let go of the past. I talked about my feelings to numerous therapists—some good, some not. I even attempted the “woo-woo” including:
Inner child work.
A soul retrieval from a Native American shaman (Apparently my soul couldn’t be retrieved).
Good ole fashioned journaling.
Cry therapy.
Ayahuasca in the Amazon jungle (The result? Shitting and vomiting at the same time).
Exploring my “shadow side.”
Breath work while a didgeridoo played in the background (One word: painful).
Shrooms.
Trauma workshops.
Belief coding.
Vision boarding (I was desperate).
Transcendental Meditation.
Ketamine.
Visits to psychics, mediums, astrologers, and tarot readers, who all agreed…
I was pretty fucked.
Then I returned to the Western approach and did a one-week stint each with Lexapro and Zoloft, which only gave me migraines. I freakin ’loved the I-can’t-even-get-anxious-if-I-wanted-to feeling of Xanax…but alas, it wasn’t enough.
Nothing worked.
I let out a sigh from my belly, as a multitude of yoga teachers had taught me. As I expelled the air, I felt strange…odd…not dizzy, not nauseous, but weird. I checked the monitor that displayed the airshow. Time To Destination, or TTD, was three hours to go until we landed in Teterboro, New Jersey.
The words and numbers on the monitor blurred into an astigmatism.
I rounded the corner into the crew rest and then plopped onto the club seat. Exhaustion crawled through my veins like slow lightning. My vision pulsed. The feeling was jetlag times infinity. I tried to stay centered and think through what was happening. I had been flying, almost nonstop to save money to buy a house. Crossing all those time zones and the constant fatigue combined with the IBD did not make for a healthy lifestyle.
I’d let myself get that run down. Damn.
My body felt weightless. It was like the moment before a fall, that breathless pause—only it never ended. A newfound hum in my ears grew until it swallowed my every thought. My eyes darted over my lap to the khaki fabric wall and finally to the window. The sky brightened to an angelic white, nearly blinding me. I wasn’t dizzy. I had the urge to stare straight ahead, yet I could not focus.
Am I vaporizing?
I stretched out my fingers. They were disappearing! I felt so airy, as if I could levitate off the seat. I grasped the armrests until…
I couldn’t grasp them anymore.
The outline of my body began to blur. I lost the solidity of flesh. Tiny sparks of light flickered along my arms, breaking apart into floating specks, like dust in the sun. These particles—that were once me—scattered outward. Where I had sat, I was now only a swirl of luminous dust, leaving me somewhere between confused and terrified.
The world spun ahead of me, leaving no room for panic, no room to understand. In an instant, purple lightning hummed and sounded like the constant static of a bug zapper. The spinning intensified, yet I wasn’t queasy.
What the fuck is going on?
I realized I was spinning through blackness, as if I was on an otherworldly plane. Then the particles of my body snapped back together and returned it to its human shape. I kept rotating and twirling until, out of nowhere, I smelled old wood and cleaning solution. And then…
There I was, sitting on a chair in a—was it a courtroom?
My mouth was so dry it felt like sand had settled on my tongue. A dull ache pulsed behind my temples, the kind that usually came from waking too early and too thirsty. My eyes darted across the courtroom, desperate to anchor on something steady, but every face seemed sharpened against me, a blur of judgement I couldn’t decipher. My chest tightened, heavy as stone, and though I begged my body to move, shift, or raise even a finger, nothing obeyed. It was as if my body had betrayed me; every molecule refused to budge. Before I could get one thought together, I heard:
“Indy, doodoo, what’s wrong?”
Mom.
Where am I?
Author Bio:
Jennifer Moreno has a master’s degree in creative writing from New York University. She was a corporate flight attendant for six years and is the host of the Corporate Flight Attendant podcast.
She is deeply involved in metaphysical practices, including obtaining certificates in trance and advanced mediumship; medical intuition; and psychic detection. She is also a reiki master and hosted a metaphysical podcast called Two Inches Off the Ground.
In her personal life, Jennifer is a proud Colombian adoptee. As a Colombian American, she enjoys improving her Spanish and exploring her roots in her native Colombia. “Jennifer” is her adopted American name, and “Moreno” is her original Colombian surname, thus combining these different…yet magical cultures.
GIVEAWAY!
When Time Flies Blitz
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I want to welcome Gilly Macmillan to Books R Us. Gilly is the author of "The Burning Library." Thanks for stopping by.
About the Book:
My Thoughts:
