Two orphan loners. One supernatural plague. When wood-eating zombies
threaten their island, mismatched investigators Felix and Ninja must combine
science and instinct to save Spinachi-before they’re next.
ZOMBIE ZOO is Book 1 in a five-book middle grade adventure series for readers
ages 8-13, blending paranormal mystery, zombies, unlikely friendship, and
STEAM-powered problem-solving.
When 13-year-old aspiring naturalist Felix Fizzystyxx discovers that
orphans at Wayward Amok Orphanage are transforming into wood-eating zombies,
his quiet tree-fort observations are no longer enough. Someone has
deliberately unleashed a strange plague on Tub’s island town of Spinachi-and
they’re still out there.
To find a cure, Felix must team up with Ninja, a shadow-dwelling orphan who
trusts her instincts and never backs down. Intense and razor-sharp, she
notices what others overlook and lives up to her name as the island’s most
mysterious sleuth. With their eccentric mentor Doc Brunne compromised and the
town’s water supply contaminated by a glowing bioluminescent substance, the
two mismatched investigators must combine scientific observation with sharp
intuition to stop the outbreak before their island home is devoured.
Set on the fictional island of Tub, this fast-paced, humorous adventure
naturally weaves in STEAM concepts-biology, chemistry, bioluminescence, water
systems, pattern recognition, and the scientific method-within an
age-appropriate supernatural mystery. Themes include unlikely friendship,
identity, trust across differences, courage, and finding your voice when
adults won’t listen.
Featuring diverse protagonists, quirky humor, spooky-but-fun scares, and
strong female and male leads. ZOMBIE ZOO is ideal for reluctant readers and
fans of Max Brallier’s The Last Kids on Earth, B.B. Alston’s Amari and the
Night Brothers, and Goosebumps. Comprehensive educator resources-including
discussion guides, vocabulary lists, STEAM extension activities, and printable
maps-support classroom use, library programming, book clubs, and make this
title ideal for cross-curricular lessons bridging ELA, STEAM, and SEL.
About Author Melanie Abed
Melanie Abed is a behavioral expert turned story weaver. She believes
dragons are real but hiding, and finds thunderstorms equally delightful and
terrifying. A tea-loving bookworm, she champions young minds and writes to
help kids discover their superpowers are real.
Category: Adult Non-Fiction, 224 pages Genre: History Publisher: Dave Tabler Publication Date: June 1, 2026 Content Rating:G: no bad language, no sex scenes
Book Description:
Delaware Keepers is a bottom-up social history of the men and women who tended Delaware’s lighthouses from the colonial beacon at Cape Henlopen in 1769 through the automation era of the 1940s. Its central argument is a deliberate inversion of a familiar image. The popular lighthouse keeper—the bearded hermit slowly losing his sanity in storm-battered isolation—is, in Tabler’s words, “dead wrong.” Drawing on newspaper archives, government and inspection records, and family papers, the book reconstructs keeping not as a story of madness and solitude but of community, family life, civic engagement, and quiet professionalism.
The book opens on its thesis in miniature: keeper George W. Duncan celebrating his 37th wedding anniversary at the Port Penn Range Light in 1907, surrounded by forty guests and a brass band—a federal employee at the center of community life rather than its lonely edge. Delaware’s compact geography makes the case plausible: short coastline, numerous inland waterways, and stations often within walking distance of town, with even offshore posts like Fourteen Foot Bank deliberately crewed by three men to forestall the very isolation the myth romanticizes. Tabler doesn’t flatten the picture, though—remote, icebound posts like Mahon’s Light and Reedy Island could genuinely isolate, and the work carried real risk from storms, wrecks, and accidents.
Across sixteen chapters organized into five chronological parts, the narrative traces keeping as it emerged as an occupation, matured into a respected federal career, and then vanished under automation:
Founding the Lights (1769–1850s) — colonial origins, John and Elizabeth Dickerson at the first Cape Henlopen beacon, and Abraham Hargis writing desperate letters to Thomas Jefferson about inadequate pay.
Forging a Network (1850s–1880s) — the lights through the Civil War and the professionalization of keeping into a genuine career.
The Golden Age of Keeping (1880s–1940s) — the profession at its height, its costs, and its public visibility.
The End of an Era (1940s–1970s) — automation and the disappearance of the resident keeper.
Preserving the Legacy (1970s–present) — how families and communities carry the memory forward.
The human thread runs throughout: Hannah Hill dragging a boat across broken ice to fetch a doctor for her ailing husband; Irvin and Janie Lynch raising eight children at Mahon’s Light; the Spencer children at Liston Range, for whom a station with no plumbing or central heat was simply home. The closing chapters turn to memory itself—how granddaughter Penny Czerwinski turns Dorothy Lynch Morris’s recollections into classroom presentations (complete with Toby, the coal-chute-riding pig), and how preservation has shifted from maintaining structures to transmitting living culture.
Beyond maritime history, the book frames larger questions: how skilled occupations earn legitimacy and respect, what happens to experienced workers when technology renders them “unnecessary,” how communities lose institutional memory when federal employees vanish from daily life, and why we mythologize obsolete professions while forgetting the people who actually performed them. It positions itself not as a technical catalog of lighthouses—those exist—but as a recovery of the keepers as real, embedded, civic human beings.
Q: You’ve written six previous books on Delaware history. Why lighthouse keepers this time?
In a sense the keepers chose me. I kept meeting them in the margins while researching other books, and they never behaved the way the folklore said they should. The myth promises a solitary man in a wave-battered tower, slowly going mad from the isolation. What I kept finding instead were family men, churchgoers, and bandmates who happened to work in a lighthouse. But there was a bigger draw. Lighthouse keeping is a complete story you can hold in one book: a profession that came to Delaware in 1769, matured into a respected federal career, and then was made extinct by automation within a single generation. A skilled occupation rendered obsolete by technology is a subject with obvious echoes right now. The keepers lived through the version of it our own era is just starting to argue about, and their story shows what a community loses when a familiar profession simply vanishes from daily life.
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Q: How did you research the book?
My training is in journalism, so the rule is primary sources first. Keeper logs and Lighthouse Board records at the National Archives, congressional testimony, family papers, cemetery records, and the archives of the U.S. Lighthouse Society all went into the file. My favorite find sits in the Founders Online database: an 1803 letter from Abraham Hargis, keeper at Cape Henlopen, written directly to President Thomas Jefferson to protest his pay, original spelling intact. He assured the president that “one active person in Deleware is worth a hundred in Pensylvania.” Hargis served thirty years and died at his post, and his salary was never raised. When a source like that survives, the historian’s job is mostly to get out of its way.
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Q: Which keeper stayed with you after you finished writing?
The Lynch family of Mahon’s Light, on the marshy flats of the lower bay. Irvin and Janie Lynch raised eight children out there. Janie banged pots in the fog to guide lost boats to the landing, and for twenty-four years the station could be reached only by water or footpath. In 1926 Irvin was hauled before a Dover magistrate because his children’s school attendance was spotty; the judge dismissed the case after hearing what the road was like. When Kent County finally built a gravel road in 1934, Janie threw her hip boots aside and said, “Now I’ll be able to wear a woman’s clothes!” Somewhere in there is everything the book is about: hardship, humor, family, and a government job lived out in a marsh.
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Q: If the lonely-hermit image is wrong, where did it come from?
It came from fiction, and from one genuinely horrific event: the 1801 Smalls Lighthouse tragedy off the Welsh coast, where a keeper died at his post and his surviving partner was found half mad beside the coffin. Writers took it from there. Edgar Allan Poe’s unfinished 1849 story “The Light-House” gave America a keeper unraveling on the page by his third day alone, and readers loved the haunted man in the tower ever after. Delaware’s stations mostly sat within sight of towns. The late Michael Morgan, the coastal columnist who chronicled this shoreline for decades and whom I quote in the book, put it plainly: “The loneliness of a lighthouse keeper is legendary,” he wrote, before showing that Delaware’s record tells another story. Morgan died this past December, mid-column at 82, and I like to think of Delaware Keepers as one more entry in the long argument he and Delaware’s historians have been winning against the myth.
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Q: You came to book writing after other careers. When did you know you were a storyteller?
I didn’t decide to write. Writing found me, and it came from two directions at once. One was Hattie Rakestraw, a tobacco-voiced neighbor from my father’s boyhood in West Virginia. His parents’ kitchen door was always open to her, and she could pull tears and laughter out of the same room minutes apart. I heard her myself as a small boy. I was too young to catch what made the grown-ups roar, but old enough to sense that a plain-spoken farm woman holding a table spellbound was a kind of power. My father wrote a whole chapter about her in his memoir.
The other direction was my mother, a librarian, who kept Dickens, Eliot, and Dostoevsky within reach the way a mechanic keeps his tools. To her, novels were how a person understood the way the world actually works. Her college letters home survive, and mid-Les Misérables she complains that every book she’s been assigned shows people at their worst, then sighs, “Oh for a nice trite story where Goodness is rewarded with Happiness!” Notice who chose the word “trite.” She was in on her own joke.
Neither of my parents thought of themselves as writers. But between the woman who could turn that farmhouse kitchen electric, and the mother whose bookshelf explained the world, I grew up assuming stories were how you made sense of things. Years later I started mailing my father sketches of quirky characters I’d met in Brooklyn. “Another shaggy dog story!” he wrote back. He recognized the inheritance before I did.
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Q: What does your writing routine look like?
I’m up at 4:30 every morning, which I’m told puts me in the company of about three percent of the country. The reason is simple: no interruptions. Nobody else in the house is up at that hour, the phone doesn’t ring, and no text is buzzing at me. Those early hours are the only ones the world hasn’t already claimed. I work to deadlines and I hit them; inspiration is welcome to join me at the desk, but the work starts either way. That discipline is how a self-published historian produces a book a year while keeping the research honest. Every named person in my books stands on a confirmed document, and that standard takes hours invested morning after morning.
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Q: What’s next for you?
Two books are already in the pipeline. Delaware’s Forgotten Cavalry arrives January 1, 2027, built from the firsthand Civil War writings of three soldiers of Company C, First Delaware Cavalry, presented as they wrote them. And in mid-2027 comes a history of Delaware innkeeping, from colonial taverns to the corporate hotel brands of today. Different subjects, same project: telling the First State’s story through the people who did the work.
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Meet Author Dave Tabler:
Ten year old Dave Tabler decided he was going to read the ‘R’ volume from the family’s World Book Encyclopedia set over summer vacation. He never made it from beginning to end. He did, however, become interested in Norman Rockwell, rare-earth elements, and Run for the Roses.
Tabler’s father encouraged him to try his hand at taking pictures with the family camera. With visions of Rockwell dancing in his head, Tabler press-ganged his younger brother into wearing a straw hat and sitting next to a stream barefoot with a homemade fishing pole in his hand. The resulting image was terrible.
Dave Tabler went on to earn degrees in art history and photojournalism despite being told he needed a ‘Plan B.’
Fresh out of college, Tabler contributed the photography for “The Illustrated History of American Civil War Relics,” which taught him how to work with museum curators, collectors, and white cotton gloves. He met a man in the Shenandoah Valley who played the musical saw, a Knoxville fellow who specialized in collecting barbed wire, and Tom Dickey, brother of the man who wrote ‘Deliverance.’
In 2006 Tabler circled back to these earlier encounters with Appalachian culture as an idea for a blog. AppalachianHistory.net today reaches 375,000 readers a year.
Dave Tabler moved to Delaware in 2010 and became smitten with its rich past. He no longer copies Norman Rockwell, but his experience working with curators and collectors came in handy when he got the urge to photograph a love letter to Delaware’s early heritage.
It turned out to be the start of something. Tabler has since written Delaware Before the Railroads, Delaware from Railways to Freeways, Delaware from Freeways to E-Ways, Delaware at Christmas, Delaware Behaving Badly, and Delaware Keepers.
Can two men who clash over everything ever agree on love?
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When Harry Met Charlie
by Donna Costa
Genre: MM Romantic Comedy
Harry is a number-cruncher. Charlie is a people-person. One
is bubbly and optimistic, the other serious and pessimistic. With an endless
stream of verbal sparring and heated debates filling the car on their road trip
from Vancouver to Toronto, they arrive at the conclusion they are complete
opposites and go their separate ways.
When they meet years later – older, wiser, and love-worn –
will their sparring become a prelude to romance? An exciting turn on? Will they
be there for each other when it’s needed most?
Boys’ Love + Nora Ephron Fan Fiction = When Harry Met
Charlie
“Fun, funny and wonderfully delightful! Reminds you of
experiencing your first crush – I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough!” –
Leeanne Whitehouse, Pure Country Morning Host
Donna Costa draws on her love of romance, both novels and
movies, plus her years in the aviation industry for When Harry Met Charlie. She
writes in a variety of genres including YA, memoir, romance, and historical
fiction. She lives in London, Ontario.
Dr. Kyle McMann became a physician to save lives. But when she watches violent criminals escape punishment again and again, she begins to question whether the system designed to protect the innocent actually protects the evilest of villains. Haunted by the death of her younger brother—which she’s sure she could have prevented—Kyle is drawn into a clandestine cabal called The Tribunal. Its members include physicians, intelligence specialists, and former military operatives who secretly hunt down murderous criminals that have escaped the law. They deliver surgically precise punishment that mirror the crimes committed by these vile homicidal maniacs, disguising them as natural medical events. Transplant surgeon Dr. Graham Kurland, a decorated former Army Ranger struggling with the scars of war, finds himself pulled into Kyle’s life-and-death efforts to protect the defenseless and punish the guilty. As the two doctors grow closer, they must confront the moral and deadly consequences of the vengeance the Tribunal has inflicted.
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Praise for Invisible Justice:
“rapid-fire action scenes … make the pages turn easily … a delicate balance between interior emotional examination and tough medical drama … the main players are subtly and fully developed.” ~ Kirkus Reviews “A compelling, fast-paced read that combines suspense with meaningful explorations of grief, accountability, and moral responsibility. It is both an entertaining thriller and a powerful examination of what happens when ordinary people decide that the law is no longer enough.” ~ Mary Karnes, Author, Wedding Bride Doom “Dr. Gary Brown has created a rip-roaring ‘Dexter with Doctors’ thriller, using his deep-dive knowledge of medical catastrophes, hard-earned as they were by one of America’s top eye surgeons, from slicing into eyeballs for decades. It’s so much fun to watch brilliant medical minds figure out how to murder, with as much pain as humanly possible, evil bastards who prey on the innocent. There’s a fantastic love story between two hot yet damaged doctors trying to find love in a world full of blood, guts, death, and the miraculous saving of lives. This is the kind of book you keep thinking about as you go through your day and can’t wait to get back to, just to see who dies next and in what excruciating way they bite the dust, knowing full well that the events are not natural.” ~ Henry Sterry, bestselling author of Chicken. “Dr. Gary Brown blends his considerable medical acumen with gripping storytelling ability to take the medical thriller to new heights. Gary is an artistic master who entertains, educates, and tantalizes our intellect . . . I can’t wait for the next book.” ~ Timothy W. Olsen, M.D. Professor and Consultant of Ophthalmology, Mayo Clinic; Chair Emeritus, Emory University; Founder, iMacular Regeneration, LLC “Gary, I found your book wonderful . . . I just kept turning the pages. I couldn’t stop. I wanted to know what happened next?. . .What happened next?. . . What happened next?. . . It unfolds in a really good way. I like that being a doctor, you have access to that kind of information. And your protagonist is a woman. She ends up joining this thing called the Tribunal, which is kind of like a – we talked about this earlier – Dexter on Steroids – as she gets the bad guys. I like reading thrillers, whether they’re legal or in this case medical. I think you’ve done a really great job. So, congratulations on your book.” ~ Jack Canfield, author of Success Principles and co-author of the Chicken Soup for the Soul Series with over 600 million sales.
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INVISIBLE JUSTICE Trailer:
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Book Details:
Genre: Medical Thriller
Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: April 28, 2026 Number of Pages: 416 ISBN: 979-8898201494 Series: A Kyle McMann & Graham Kurland Medical Thriller, Book 1
Grady Memorial Hospital, Atlanta, Georgia Kyle McMann groaned as she paced on the Grady Memorial Hospital Emergency Room ramp, her eyes tracking the incoming ambulance. She prayed this wasn’t another twenty-five-year- old—her exact age—stiffened by rigor mortis, still cradling her crying infant son in her arms. She was haunted by the mother’s lifeless stare that sent shivers down her spine. Obviously, some evil bastard shot her close up as she held her baby. Kyle had picked the short straw, as per usual. She was starting her career as an intern in the Surgical Emergency Room of Grady, the Mount Everest of U.S. shock-trauma centers. Unlike most hospitals that had one ER, this godforsaken medical behe-moth had three: the Surgical ER, the Medical ER, and the Pediatric ER. Each had its own unique variants of traumatizing trauma. It was dark by nine p.m. on Thursday, July 5th, and she shielded her eyes from the strobing reds and blues. It was her job to screen the incoming “clients.” Though not specified in the hospital bylaws, inherent in the mission of the lowest of the low on the professional totem pole was ramp duty. Aka processing the worst of the worst and pronouncing the dead bodies dead. Didn’t get much grimmer than that. Her mind flashed back to this morning’s thirty-one-year-old basketball phenom with bacterial meningitis. A day ago, a vibrant human being. Now approaching his maker with a devastated brain failing on a respirator despite the efforts of the best infectious disease minds on the planet. She’d been there for five days, and already it was wearing her out. Facing the families. The tears. The sobbing. Parents collapsing. It was like everyone fell from the tree of horrors and hit each branch on the way down. Her fight or flight reflex kicked in, and she sprinted to the ambulance, sharp brown eyes focused, runner’s body whipping towards the EMS vehicle, coughing out the black exhaust that smacked her face-on and splayed her middle-parted chestnut brown hair in both directions. Staying on the driver’s side, she peered in as the BLS 911 Emergency Ambulance backed into the ramp. “What is it?” she shouted as the driver rolled down his window. “Bad one, doc. Bleeding like a stuck pig. A bunch of kids worked him over with bats and knives. You want to get in here fast.” Kyle’s heart sank as she ran back and yanked open the rear door. She jumped in before the van came to a full stop. Blood. And more blood. A vampire’s wet dream. On the sheets. The floor. Smeared on the windows. “Come on!” she shouted to the half-panicked tech staring at the abdomen. “Let’s get him inside.” The two front EMTs ran around back and pulled the stretcher out. The group slammed through the steel and glass doors into the ER. “WAIT A MINUTE!” Ellen Chu, the hard-as-a-rock head nurse, blocked their path and held up her hand. “What’s going on?” Kyle spoke up from behind. “Let ’em through. We’re going to Trauma, stat.” She pushed the stretcher, sweeping Ellen aside, then looked back over her shoulder. “And call Eli.” The Trauma Room was halfway down the hall. It was larger than the rest, so more people could fit in to stabilize the endless stream of broken bodies in this war zone. Kyle slipped in before the men and slapped the trauma room table. “Here. Let’s move him. One, two, three.” They lifted the patient from the stretcher using the draw sheet underneath him. He was light. Must be a kid, Kyle thought. She peered into the open abdomen. The wound stretched all the way across the belly. “Oh, man,” she cried as she catapulted back. An arterial pumper squirted blood into the air, hitting her directly in the right eye. Everything she learned drained from her mind. She went from flight/fight to freeze. All she could see was that fountain of red shooting up from the patient’s pulsating bowel. Where the hell was Eli? Her stomach dropped from the sheer helplessness of it all. Think, dammit. THINK! Ellen poked her head around the corner. Kyle looked up from the bowel, snapped out of her stupor, and wiped blood from her face with the arm of her white lab coat. “Where’s Eli?” “I told him to get his ass down here stat.” Ellen looked at the spurting blood, then back at Kyle and said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world: “Shouldn’t we start an IV?” “Yeah, yeah, uh, good idea.” Kyle shook her head and mentally kicked herself. Four years of working her ass off, and she couldn’t even think of an IV? What kind of a moron was she? “I’ll put in the IV,” Ellen said hard and fast, “but you’ve gotta get that bleeder, or he won’t last until Eli gets here.” The ambulance attendants backed off while Ellen tossed Kyle a large Kelly clamp, then ransacked the drawers for an IV. “Kyle?!” she barked, “C’mon, let’s go.” Kyle faced the patient, ready to save his life. Then she froze. Again. Sure, she’d been through the surgical rotation, but only as a second or third assistant. She’d read all the books. But books didn’t shoot blood at you while you tried to stop them from dying. It was her first week in the ER, for fuck’s sake. She wasn’t even a real doctor yet. Real doctors knew what they were doing. “Kyle, SNAP OUT OF IT!” Ellen shouted. “Okay, sorry…” Kyle muttered as she sprang out of her stupor. She pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and yanked the suction catheter from the wall. The long plastic tube slurped the liquid blood and dark clots from the open wound to expose a glistening bowel. There it was. The base of the bleeder. She took the Kelly clamp and went for it. Blood splattered her face again. Now it was in her left eye. What if he had AIDS?Or hepatitis? “Damn!” She missed. The blood was pooling. And the bleeder was going down again. In another second, it would disappear below the surface of a new red pond. She went for it once more, holding her right wrist to steady her hand. “Gotcha, you little bastard.” “What’s going on?” Kyle squinted to keep more blood from rolling into her eyes as she growled at Eli, finally strolling in like the cool customer he was. “Nice of you to stop by.” The second-year surgery resident leaned over to inspect the wound. “Looks to me like you’re doin’ a-okay to me, Newby.” A clot dislodged from another severed vessel. Blood spewed two feet and caught Eli in the cheek. “Okay, well, maybe you do need a little help from your friends.” He wiped his face with a green towel and snapped on a pair of tan gloves. “Kyle, gimme the suction catheter. I’ll work here. You put a second IV in his other hand. Ellen, call the OR. Tell them we’re coming up stat.” Kyle was happy to slide aside. She grabbed the patient’s right hand and smacked the back of it a half dozen times to raise a vein. It was no easy matter considering the scar tissue covering the vessels. Strange. She’d given her little brother a scar like that once. Brian had been chasing her in the house, and she slammed the bathroom door on his hand as hard as she could. The poor kid. She remembered it like it was yesterday. She’d cried for nights when she saw the skin torn back and the tears running down his little pink cheeks. She stared at the patient’s face. Except there was no face. No pink cheeks. Nothing close to normal human features. Only bloated purple lips, swollen shut eyes, and the disfigured pulp left by the vicious stomping. His facial bones had to be fractured beyond recognition. Eli clenched his teeth, his casual nonchalance gone. “Son of a bitch!” “What? What’s the matter?” Kyle asked. “Every time I grab a damn vessel, another pops up.” Even Eli, the king of chill, was sweating. Something he rarely did. “We’ve gotta get this bowel fixed, or we won’t have to worry about the rest of him.” Ellen careened around the doorway corner on one hand. “They gave us the okay. Said to bring him right up.” “Unlock this stretcher. LET’S GO!!!” Eli threw another clamp on the exposed gut. The trio wheeled the stainless-steel stretcher as fast as they could into the main corridor of the ER, then down the dim hallway, with Kyle sprinting at the side. She looked down at the abdomen. Blood was oozing everywhere. She ran ahead and punched the erratically blinking, red “UP” button. Twice. Three times. Four…Eli, Ellen, and the patient arrived in seconds. Kyle’s foot tapped on the floor, and she bit her lower lip as she stared at the patient’s hand. Was she going to lose this one, too? Her mind disassociated as she waited for the clanking elevator. She needed to stop after work to stock up on Fritos. Brian was visiting on Monday. Just out of tenth grade, this was his first solo trip by train. It was a wonder Mom let him come, especially for two days. She hated being alone since Dad died. But she’d finally relented when he expressed such a strong interest in Emory University. He so wanted to follow his big sister’s path, only on the veterinary side. “No pulse,” Ellen said as she felt the patient’s neck and looked up from the head of the stretcher with wide eyes. Eli reached for a confirming feel, then looked back toward the ER, hesitant for a moment. “We gotta get him to the OR,” he decided. “Kyle, you pump. I’ll breathe him.” Kyle jumped onto the stretcher and straddled the patient with her legs, half-standing, taking care not to put weight on the open abdomen. Knees flexed, she pushed down on his chest with both palms, counting off one-per-second thrusts that forced blood through his oxygen-starved body. One of the clamps slipped, and blood squirted, spraying the crotch of her white house officer’s pants over and over. She kept going. Unless they got this poor kid’s heart started again, he’d be a brainstem preparation in ten minutes. Eli sighed deeply and shook his head. “Not good, guys. Where’s a phone to call a code?” He glanced left, then right. “Not even a fucking phone?” Cells were useless down here. Ellen scowled and ran back to the ER, mumbling something unintelligible, though her tone needed no explanation. “I don’t think I’m pumping him well,” Kyle said between heavy breaths. “Why not?” Eli asked. “There’s no support under his back.” “God DAMNIT!” Eli dropped the breathing mask, pushed the stretcher against the wall for stabilization, and pulled a sideboard out from underneath. “Turn him so I can put this under.” Kyle stopped her thrusts and, standing on the stretcher with her back against the wall, lifted the left side of the patient’s body while Eli tried to slip the flat board underneath. The awkward position set off horrific pounding in her head, but not before she had him halfway over. “Almost. Just a little more.” The patient’s shirt slipped up. The birthmark!The brown oval over his right kidney! Kyle’s shocked mouth dropped open. Instead of pulling harder, she dropped him. The patient fell back on Eli and the board with a thud. Kyle’s head snapped back and slammed against the hard tile wall abutting the stretcher. She could hear a crack as her head bounced. The birthmark. The mark on his back—Brian’s mark. And with the hand scars? NOOOOO!!! Eli yanked his right hand out from between the board and the stretcher and shook it. “Kyle! What the hell are you doing? Why’d you let go?” The board crashed to the ground. Kyle climbed down and grabbed the side of the stretcher, her head exploding with the worst pain she’d ever felt. Eli held his hand and grimaced. “What’s wrong with you? Get moving, or he’s gonna die.” “I—I can’t. I just can’t, I’m not, I don’t… I just can’t…” “Why not?” “I-I can’t.” “Jesus Christ!” Eli uttered. Then he shouted, “HELP, STAT!!! WE NEED HELP DOWN HERE!!!” He hit a red wall alarm and climbed onto the stretcher. He pumped with his good hand while Kyle hugged the wall for support. Brian.Dear God, NOOOOO! What was he doing here four days early? He never showed up anywhere early in his entire life. Personnel poured from the stairways and into the hallway. Eli jumped off and ran down the corridor, waving at the people pushing the stretcher back to the ER. “Come on, move it, MOVE IT!” Kyle stumbled after them in a daze. The seat of her pants dripped blood that splattered down to her green and white Nikes. Normally, the wetness would’ve driven her crazy. Now she watched and felt a cold nothingness. While her head throbbed with an excruciating ache. As if it were on fire. People ran past. Someone was shouting in the distance. Bodies crowded the main ER. Their faces were blurs. She stopped outside the door to Trauma. Inside, it was alive with a flurry of activity, but the noises were far away. Kyle stood alone, the Ghost of Christmas Past, looking in on people illuminated by the powerful overhead beams. As she stood there wobbling, the noise stopped. Suddenly, the frenzied motion ceased. White coats and pants came out singly and in pairs, silent, their heads hanging low. Eli came last, biting his lower lip. Only the solitary monotone of the cardiac monitor echoed through the door. Kyle dropped back against a wall and slid to the ground, a hand pressing into each temple to try and hold in the jackhammer pounding inside her head. Her mental and physical pains faded as she passed out into a black void.
Chapter Two
Seven Years Later
Pennsylvania Hospital, Eighth Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Graham Kurland, 6’ 5”, 230 pounds of sinew and muscle, strolled in the Pennsylvania Hospital parking lot like the former Purple Heart winner he was, a world-class warrior who’d traded his weapons for a scalpel and become a rising star surgeon of the medical world, as well as a renowned transplant researcher. If you looked closely, you could see his assurance and graceful gait almost concealed the limp he’d had after a grenade’s shrapnel shredded his leg. He was greeted by the occasional nurse who flirted, or a doctor who was in awe and/or jealous of the famous Dr. Kurland. But no matter how much attention he got—professional or personal—none of it ever went to his head. He either didn’t know or care how brilliant and easy on the eyes he was. He was excited about the surgery he was scheduled to perform. A double renal artery in a recipient kidney. Much more difficult to implant than a single renal artery. So his XXL brain was working out each detail, making contingencies for everything that could go wrong. The donor kidney had two arteries supplying it, rather than the typical one. This anomaly made it more difficult to connect the donor kidney into the kidney recipient. Couldn’t be done without a great team. They were very good. But were they great? He thought so. This was his last year of internal medicine residency. He had already finished his surgical residency and would be one of the select few in the country with Boards in Surgery and Medicine. He couldn’t have done it without his photographic memory. And his years as a kill-or-be-killed warrior. And a CEO who turned his dead father’s business into a cash cow. While raising his teenage brother. BAM! A car backfired loudly, like a shot being fired just outside the hospital. Suddenly, Graham was in the middle of a raging battle in the desert outside Kandahar, missiles and bullets flying. Eddie Severs, his ride-or-die best friend, was by his side. Eddie took one step towards him, and the whole world exploded as he stepped on an IED. Graham was thrown back, even as he saw Eddie blow up, blood and flesh flying as he screamed in agony and horror. Graham felt a hand on his shoulder, and he whipped around, fists clenched, fire in his eyes, face full of rage, in full fight mode. He snapped back to reality when he saw he was face-to-face with Nurse Beth Kelly, a fifty-something veteran of twenty-five years at Penn, the sweetest, kindest soul here. She was looking horrified at Graham’s hard, furious face, his body spring-loaded and ready to kill. The look of terror on Nurse Kelly’s face jolted Graham back to sanity. He saw what he was doing and was overcome with shame and embarrassment. He forced his face into a disarming, charming grin. “Sorry, Beth, oh my God, you scared the bejesus outta me. My apologies, I get a little wonky sometimes. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m really sorry.” Beth’s face changed from scared to neutral to thoughtful to understanding to kind. She nodded and smiled her sweet smile. “PTSD,” she said with an understanding nod. “My husband served in Desert Storm. Gee willikers, I know trauma’s a killer. I hope to heck you’re getting help.” “Oh yeah, I went through the program, I just get a little sketchy when I hear, uh…” “Loud noises? Like a gunshot. Or a car backfiring?” she gave him a wry little smile. “I get it.” “Thanks, Beth, I really appreciate that. Maybe we could keep this, uh, you know…” She made a funny little locking-her-lips-with-a-key gesture and did a slightly silly mock whisper. “What happens at Penn stays at Penn.” Graham laughed. Beth laughed. “Shall we?” Beth nodded and gestured towards the hospital. “Yes, we shall,” Graham said with his trademark aw-shucks animal magnetism as they walked through the parking lot and into the rest of their lives. *** Excerpt from Invisible Justice by Gary Brown, M.D. Copyright 2026 by Gary Brown, M.D. Reproduced with permission from Gary Brown, M.D. All rights reserved.
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About Author Gary Brown, MD:
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Dr. Brown is a retired professor and vitreoretinal (eyeball for civilians) surgeon. He performed over 40,000 operations in his award-winning career. Among his honors are inclusion in Marquis Who’s Who in the World and The Leading Physicians of the World. He served as the editor of three medical journals and has 650 publications and 12 medical/economic book authorships. This is his debut novel.
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Meet Dea — the little Chow Chow puppy with a BIG heart!
With her beautiful deep-blue fur, bright eyes, and sweet fluffy face, Dea is
impossible to forget. But this curious little puppy has one special talent:
finding trouble wherever she goes!
Luckily, Dea has Rocky by her side. Together, they discover that being brave
doesn’t mean never feeling scared. Sometimes, true courage means slowing down,
being careful, and listening to those who love you.
But Dea’s adventures are only beginning…
Beyond the garden are new friends, mysterious places, and unexpected
surprises. And somewhere out there, a mysterious fox is watching.
Who is she? What does she want? And where will Dea’s curiosity take her next?
Dea will be back… so hold on tight! Her next adventure could be even more
exciting!
About Author Daniela Hristova
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Daniela Hristova arrived in the UK with an English vocabulary consisting of
little more than “teabag” and a background as a multi-media journalist,
actress, and singer who had spent years working in television, radio,
newspaper, and stage in her home country. With a diverse professional journey
that later ranged from wielding a mop to building a career in leadership and
court security, she has navigated life’s twists with a steady faith, a sharp
eye, and a wonderfully dry sense of humor. Channeling her unique experiences
and cultural blunders into the written word, she has penned a witty tribute to
the resilience it takes to start over. When she isn’t writing or tackling new
adventures, she enjoys spending time with her family and her dog, Dea. Fluent
in Faux Pas is her debut memoir.
Murder at the Agency: A Cassidy Blayne Mystery by Kylie Forsythe
Murder at the Agency: A Cassidy Blayne Mystery Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting: Fictional town of Brighton Lake, Wisconsin Publisher : Rowan Prose Publishing, LLC Publication date : August 11, 2026 Print length : 244 pages Paperback ISBN-10 : 1961967944 ISBN-13 : 978-1961967946 Digital ISBN-13 : 979-8230848561 ASIN : B0FMPGF53J
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“ An irresistible start to what’s sure to be a binge-worthy series.” -USA Today bestselling author Sarah Fox
Who knew the marketing world could be so dangerous?
Just when it seems like everything in twenty-eight year old Cassidy Blayne’s life is falling apart, a thrilling coffee shop encounter leads to the opportunity of a lifetime. Landing her dream job as Creative Director with an elite advertising firm in a nearby lakeside town fills her with renewed purpose. She’s no longer going to allow herself to settle, and resolves to rebuild her life on her own terms.
But from the moment she steps foot out of the elevator, she senses things may not be as they seem at Turner & Nash Advertising. Despite her wariness, Cassie puts all her energy into landing her first big account. Arriving early on the day of the presentation, she’s shocked to find one of the owners dead and herself a suspect.
She embarks on a desperate search for answers, unknowingly putting her and the people she cares about in danger. As she pieces things together with some help from her spunky new roommate, twin childhood best friends, an uptight detective, and a gorgeous up-and-coming rock star, warnings and threats escalate. It’s clear the killer will stop at nothing to keep her quiet.
Cassie must risk everything to unravel the murder before someone takes her off the market for good.
Fans of “Olive You To Death” by Lynn Cahoon or “A Limited Edition Murder” by Lauren Elliott will enjoy “Murder At The Agency” by Kylie Forsythe.
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About Author Kylie Forsythe
Kylie Forsythe writes cozy mysteries with smart amateur sleuths, close-knit groups of friends, and a touch of romance. Kylie is also a fourth-grade teacher and resides in Illinois with her husband, two daughters, and a rambunctious Weimaraner. When she’s not teaching, you can find her spending time with the wonderful family and friends she’s been blessed with, cooking, enjoying a good book or Hallmark Mystery movie, or crafting her next story.
When I was fifteen years old, I made a mistake. I trusted the warm smile
of a stranger called Peter Harlow, and accepted a ride home in his car.
It would be the last moment of my life I’d ever feel safe again.
The trauma of what happened that night will never leave me—and it was
only the beginning. For the last nineteen years, I’ve been trapped in a
nightmare of blocked numbers, violated restraining orders, and the compulsion
to scan every face in every crowd, waiting for the day when his will be among
them.
But I’ve also spent the time preparing. My home has become a fortress, with
reinforced doors, perimeter cameras, and a safe room in the cellar. I’ve even
taught my seven-year-old daughter how to call for help. When I finally have to
face Peter Harlow again, I’ll be ready.
Or so I thought.
Because on the night of a furious snowstorm, a terrified stranger arrives at
my gate. Emily is barefoot, bruised, and desperate for help—claiming her
husband just tried to kill her.
To let her in from the storm would mean breaking every rule I’ve made to
protect myself and my daughter—but could I live with myself if I
didn’t?
But what follows is everything I’ve lived in fear of for all these years.
First, the lights go out. Then, the internet dies. Next, the phone line goes
dead—and finally, I find myself trapped inside my own safe room,
watching through a camera feed as the man who stole my life for two decades
walks the halls of my home, playing happy families with my little girl.
I built this fortress to keep him out. Now, it’s the only thing keeping
me from protecting my child.
The Safe Room is a heart-stopping psychological thriller by bestselling author
Sarah A. Denzil, the “mistress of twists.” Essential reading for fans of Alice
Feeney, Freida McFadden, and Caroline Kepnes.
About Author Sarah A. Denzil:
Sarah A. Denzil is a million copy bestselling author of psychological
suspense novels. Her books include number one bestseller Silent Child, which
was a Goodreads Choice semi-finalist in 2017. Her books have been published in
several different languages and have appeared on the Wall Street Journal
bestseller list.
Sarah lives in Yorkshire with her husband and cats, enjoying the scenic
countryside and rather unpredictable weather. She loves to write moody,
psychological fiction with plenty of twists and turns.
Publication date: September 11th 2026
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Young Adult
USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Megan Linski paints a hallmark to grief in this story of a heartbreaking best friend break up that’s emotionally unforgettable.
Aria and Lucky are two best friends who managed to survive high school, though not everyone did. They live in a small town that’s determined to destroy everyone’s dreams, but when they’re together, the two girls soar. The adults in their lives swear there’s no way out of their tiny hometown, but Aria and Lucky promise each other they’re going to run away together, believing the music they make is going to change the world.
Until one of them leaves, and the other stays. Aria finds herself looking back on her past, struggling to find where she belongs in a place that wishes to stomp out her light. Lucky’s rise and fall is brighter than a supernova, dazzling and destroying whatever it touches.
Then the unthinkable happens, and their friendship is left in the remnants of what comes after.
Lucky promised Aria forever. But forever turns out to be far shorter than either of them thought it could be.
An honest, endearing novel, My Best Four Years is a devastating portrayal of the power of unconditional friendship, and the loss that is felt when those we love are left behind.
“Are you ready for this?” Lucky asked. The rhinestones on her guitar glimmered as she slipped the strap over her shoulder. We were behind a curtain that led to the small stage of a local bar, where a dozen patrons clattered about. We’d been selected as the headlining act for a band that played regularly on Friday nights, and we were so nervous.
Lucky’s face was pale white. I was sure mine looked the same. Our first live show. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“It’s our time,” I said confidently. “Let’s get out there.”
The curtain was pulled aside, and we strode on stage in unison as the announcer introduced us. I took my stance at the keyboard, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
We started off strong, and got an enthusiastic response from the crowd during the first song. The next song was a little shaky, but the longer we played, the more confident we became, until we’d nearly gone through every song we’d created. The crowd was really getting into the music.
As I played the keyboard, somebody caught my eye from the corner of the bar. The most handsome man I’d ever seen was leaning on the counter. He might’ve been a few years older than I was. I was absolutely captivated by his appearance, so much so that I nearly missed a note on the melody.
When I met his blue eyes, he gave me a smile. I bashfully looked down when we finished the song, and we went to take a bow as we wrapped up the show. The applause in the room was so loud, I could hardly hear myself think. The curtain was drawn, and I felt shaky on my feet as I realized we’d actually done it. We’d pulled off our first performance!
“That was amazing!” Lucky cheered. “I loved every minute! The lights, the stage! It made me feel so alive!”
“It was incredible,” I gushed. “I’m so proud of us, Lucky!”
I gave her a squealing hug. We cheerfully hopped off stage, then headed to the bar to get a drink. People clapped us on the back and congratulated us as we walked through the bar, thanking us for the performance.
While we were sipping on virgin cocktails, Lucky’s phone rang. She picked it up, a huge smile spread across her face. “Hello, Carla! Yeah, we just got done! It was amazing. I wish you were here to see it…”
Her words trailed off. The smile slid off Lucky’s face. After a few moments, she nodded, and hung up the phone with a vacant gaze.
“It’s Carla,” she said. “She’s in the parking lot waiting to pick me up. She says we have to talk.”
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About Author Megan Linski:
Megan Linski is a USA TODAY Bestselling Author who lives in Michigan. She is the author of more than sixty fantasy and paranormal novels which feature themes of friendship, community, and healthy romantic relationships. She has over fifteen years of experience writing books alongside working as a journalist and editor. She graduated from the University of Iowa, where she studied Creative Writing.
Her passions include ice skating and horseback riding. In her free time she enjoys dancing in the snow and drinking fancy coffee while at her natural habitat, the mall.
Megan advocates for the rights of the disabled, and is an activist for mental health awareness.
Megan co-writes the Hidden Legends Universe with Alicia Rades. She also writes under the pen name of Natalie Erin for the Creatures of the Lands series, co-authored by Krisen Lison.
After a childhood shaped by trauma, she’s built a life
rooted in stability—a thriving career, a home filled with love, and a devoted
husband everyone envies.
But when Bella arrives as an au pair, the carefully
constructed world Claire depends on begins to unravel.
At first, it’s subtle. A shift in tone. A look held too
long. A moment that feels wrong—but not wrong enough.
Until it is.
As Grant’s behavior escalates, Claire begins to question
herself—her instincts, her memories, the quiet unease she can’t quite explain.
For the sake of her daughter, she holds on…even as something inside her starts
to fracture.
But Bella sees what Claire can’t. She recognizes the signs.
The patterns. The danger.
Because she’s lived it before.
As the tension inside the house builds toward something
neither woman can ignore, the line between endurance and survival begins to
blur—and the choice Claire makes next could cost her everything.
A layered
psychological thriller told through dual perspectives, The Au Pair’s
Deception explores what happens when two women—both shaped by their
pasts—are forced to confront the same danger from different sides. Combining
escalating suspense with emotional depth, it’s a character-driven story of
survival, resilience, and the cost of breaking free.
Trigger Warning: This
book contains depictions of domestic abuse and violence which may be triggering
to some readers. Please read with caution.
The warmth of her home should’ve been comforting, but Claire couldn’t stop
trembling. Every breath scraped her throat. Outside, the storm raged through
the upscale suburban neighborhood of Wellesley, muffling the world in white.
The eerie silence was broken only by the wind’s howl.
She tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea forced her back into the blood-soaked
sheets. The air held the metallic tang of iron. Somewhere in the house—or was
it the wind?—something creaked. Her breathing grew labored, and something wet
and sticky clung to the back of her long blonde hair.
A fresh surge of nausea swept over her as she attempted to sit up again.
Squeezing her eyes shut and reopening them didn’t wake her from what felt like
a nightmare. Each failed attempt spiked her panic.
Rolling onto her side made her wince in pain. How long had she been lying here? Her
mind was foggy. Who else was home? Why wasn’t anyone coming? Someone must’ve
broken in during the storm. She remembered a rattle at the downstairs door
earlier that night.
A figure took shape in the shadows—tall, or maybe it seemed that way in the
flickering light. His face was hidden, and his slow, deliberate breathing
filled the room. A scream formed in her throat, but what escaped was a broken
whisper, swallowed by the darkness.
A dull, persistent ache throbbed at the back of her skull. Dizziness and nausea
pinned her in place. Each pulse landed like a hammer.
She fluttered her eyelids. The figure was gone. Where had it gone?
This has to be another nightmare,
she thought.
She wished he were here. He always made her feel safe. Imagining his strong
arms wrapped around her and his deep, comforting voice brought a fleeting calm.
Her dry lips parted, but no name came out—just a hoarse whisper lost to the
wind pressing against the window.
Claire propped herself up on one elbow and tried to gather her thoughts. She focused,
her vision adjusting to the darkness.
The figure emerged again, and a familiar voice whispered, “It’s me. I’ve been
looking for you.”
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By day, C.J. Covino is an online fitness coach helping
people live healthier lives. By night, she channels her devious side into
writing psychological suspense, starting with her debut novel, The Au Pair’s
Deception: When Love Turns to Lies. She resides in sunny Albuquerque with her
husband of 40 years, three grown kids who safely flew the coop, and a literal
zoo consisting of three dogs, a parrot, and a cat. She is powered almost
entirely by coffee, a passion for travel, and the thrill of a good plot twist.
Learn more at cjcovino.com and follow her writing journey on TikTok
@cjcovinoauthor.
The assassination was only the beginning. When the President of the United States is killed in a coordinated drone strike, the nation spirals into chaos. But this isn’t terrorism. It’s strategy. Behind the attack stands a brilliant and ruthless leader of a shadowy global cabal known only as New3—a group convinced the age of American dominance is already over. They’re just speeding it up. Their plan is devastating in its simplicity:
First, kill the president.
Then cripple the nation’s power grid.
Finally, plunge the United States into darkness long enough for rival superpowers to make their move.
Civil engineer Jake Bendel never expected to be part of that war. As one of the architects of America’s AI-driven energy grid, he helped design the very system now being turned against the country. As blackouts spread and order begins to fracture, Jake teams up with FBI agent Kristi Konnors to follow a trail of digital clues—only to uncover a conspiracy far bigger than a cyberattack. One that could hand America’s collapse to China and Russia. Then it becomes personal. Evidence emerges that Jake’s wife, Cynthia—presumed dead for years—may still be alive, trapped inside the organization behind it all. Now Jake is running out of time. Because if the lights go out across America, the invasion won’t be far behind. And the system he built may be the only thing that can stop it. Perfect for fans of David Baldacci and Tom Clancy, BLACKOUT is a high-stakes techno-thriller where cutting-edge technology collides with global power—and one man is forced to decide how far he’ll go to stop what’s coming.
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BLACKOUT Trailer:
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Book Details:
Genre: High-Concept Thriller
Published by: Jaytech Publishing Publication Date: October 6, 2026 Number of Pages: 436 ISBN: 9798990527386 Series: Jake Bendel Thrillers, Book 3 || Learn More About the series on Amazon & Goodreads
The United States power grid is divided into three largely independent systems, considered one of the most complex machines ever built with over 160,000 miles of high-voltage transmission lines. Large portions of the grid infrastructure are decades old.
Modern societies rely on electricity for nearly every critical system including: water treatment plants, fuel pipelines, telecommunications networks, hospitals, and transportation systems.
GPS signals are surprisingly weak and vulnerable to interference.
The largest blackout in North American history affected 50 million people in August 2023 involving eight states and Canada.
Small inexpensive drones can now carry lethal payloads.
The U.S. military (under DARPA’s OFFSET program) have tested drone swarm “curtain” formations.
Chapter 1
Friday, September 27 – 8:49 a.m. – AIRPLANE #1 – Private Gulfstream Jet – Coast of Venezuela
The day was perfect for flying, sipping Russo-Baltique vodka—and an assassination. In exactly eleven minutes. Ominous black clouds churned miles beneath the Gulfstream cruising high above the Atlantic. Far away, 1,600 miles north, thick fog rolled across the runway at Tampa International Airport—with Air Force One descending on approach. Tracy strode the cabin aisle, air thick with sweat and heavy leather. Her smartwatch pinged. Florida ground team: Eight minutes to launch. All good. Fiddling with her charcoal pearl necklace, she eyed the dozen technicians, each tracking a sliver of the covert op. Right on schedule. She halted behind her lead coordinator, Boris, bent over a pulsing, colorful weather map. When Tracy placed her hand on his shoulder, Boris stopped typing and adjusted his headset. She stood erect, arms crossed and chin high, her gold silk blouse complementing her team’s black combat uniforms like a leather-banded Swiss watch. Seeds of anarchy thrive in a nation stripped of electric power. The enormous gravity of today’s operation weighed on everyone aboard. Their goal: to plant kernels of chaos. She clucked her tongue, gave a sharp nod and pointed to a green and yellow blob on his screen. “Tell me that’s not fog.” Successfully executing their mission—polished for years—would bring infamy to her name and enter Tracy Daniela Ciacchella into the history books alongside John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald. Not desirable, but exitus acta probat: the outcome justifies the deeds. “It is, but ma’am, your yacht is in perfect position in Old Tampa Bay,” Boris said, a hint of a Russian accent slipping through on certain syllables. “All four hundred drones fully programmed, ready for activation and deployment from boat deck. We have new problem.” A sitting US president hadn’t fallen since ‘63. Today’s mission was the culmination of years of planning, subversion, and digital sleight of hand. No bullets. No lone gunman. Just 400 Semtex-laden drones guided by a matrix of stolen GPS coordinates and a rigged FAA exemption buried three years ago by one of her assets. A clean kill. Boris nodded. “Not worried about fog, ma’am, but light rain, not good for drones. Moved in faster than expected.” Each drone carried a two-pound brick of homemade Semtex. Washington had talked counter-drone defense for years. But as was typical with US leadership, nothing actually got done. No productive decisions. Only political wrangling and posturing—mixed with unhealthy levels of toxic masculinity. Incompetent politicians. Yet another reason to raise my curtain of death—weather permitting. For the final time, Tracy confirmed the ground team in position. On her iPad, she tapped open the video chat app connected with her two generals: first, the captain on her yacht in Old Tampa Bay, Florida; and second, her trusted, longtime friend Bob Huffington—nicknamed Huff—perched atop the Macy’s roof near I-275. Positioned a mile south, Huff had an unobstructed view of the final approach flight path for runway 1R at Tampa International. Although Tracy herself was nowhere near Florida, both video feeds from her team streamed clean and crisp via satellite. Rolling fog thickened, obscuring her views. “Wind speed?” she asked Huff. “Twenty-two knots. For now, acceptable, but if gusts start pushing above twenty-five, our chances drop to ten percent.” Getting Goldberg into place had been her masterpiece. After today, with President Whitehead out of the picture, Vice President Goldberg would give Tracy direct access to the power levers controlling the federal government. Her puppet would be in perfect position for the next phase of world domination. It was now or never. Time for the all-important decision. Even if the wind began gusting, the drones might still fly close enough to do catastrophic damage. Tracy brought her iPad close and announced into the tiny speaker, “Green. Repeat, we are green for Operation Black Flock.” On her screen, both generals nodded in confirmation. Now—shadowy iPad feeds showed Huff entering the launch code while workers on the boat peeled off a massive blue tarp to reveal a cargo container with four hundred off-the-shelf quadcopter drones—all made in China—packed inside a customized carbon fiber lattice. Each carried a two-pound payload of Semtex and a pre-programmed set of GPS-coordinated waypoints—latitude, longitude and elevation—to travel to. “Gusts up to twenty-four knots,” Huff said, nervously tugging at his earlobe before giving her a thumbs up, indicating her ground team had programmed the drones and activated them. Assuming the weather cooperated, the small black machines would follow precise paths using exact signals from dozens of GPS satellites—all in working order as of five minutes ago, according to her inside man at the Department of Defense. Her DOD contact had also confirmed the Air Force One plane on descent was, in fact, carrying President Whitehead, not a decoy. Boris leaned back in his chair, away from his laptop, and squinted at Tracy. “I still think we could have come up with a better name for this op.” She nodded, anxiety rising, wondering whether the drones would perform as intended. “Perhaps.” “How about Operation Kill Racist Xenophobic Pedophile?” “Come now, Boris. Way too long.” Tracy gave a silent smirk. A tiny matrix of red and green lights blinked on her iPad, communicating status from every craft, as propellers whirred, creating a bee-like buzzing sound crackling from the embedded speaker. The swarm of drones lifted skyward and disappeared into the gray blur of rolling fog. *** Excerpt from Blackout by J. Luke Bennecke. Copyright 2026 by J. Luke Bennecke. Reproduced with permission from J. Luke Bennecke. All rights reserved.
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About Author J. Luke Bennecke:
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J. Luke Bennecke is an Amazon #1 bestselling thriller author who writes about what happens when technology gets smarter—and people don’t. A former civil engineer and longtime executive, he spent decades designing real-world systems in California before turning to fictional ones that fail far more spectacularly. His novels explore artificial intelligence, surveillance, memory manipulation, and the dangerous gap between innovation and ethics. He is currently at work on his tenth novel. Luke lives in Southern California with his wife of thirty-five years and their four spunky cats. When not writing, he enjoys philanthropy, consulting as an engineering expert witness, traveling, playing golf, creating videos, and voiceover acting.
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Don’t Be Left in the Dark… Enter to Win!
This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for J. Luke Bennecke. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
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