Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Me, Mom & The Monster organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
Author Corinne Brown will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!
And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
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Me, Mom & The Monster
By Corinne Brown
Genre :Memoir
Synopsis
“The results of your predictive testing are here, and they show that you did inherit the gene for Huntington’s disease.”
Those words, delivered by the neurologist to 57-year-old Mae Brown, forever changed her life and the lives of her family. Me, Mom & the Monster is a soul-stirring memoir that follows the path of this farming wife, businesswoman, mother and grandmother who lived a life with a monster of a disease. Interwoven with Mae’s story is that of her third child, Corinne, whose life is intrinsically connected to her mother’s diagnosis. Told from alternating voices of Corinne and her mother, this is a candid account of the harrowing effects of living with a fatal, genetic disease. Me, Mom & the Monster captures the authenticity and vulnerability of a mother and daughter who find themselves entwined in a long dance with a neurodegenerative disease.
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Enjoy this peek inside:
MOM
I remember hearing stories of distant aunts and uncles who were afflicted with the Devil’s Dance—a colloquialism used in some circles to refer to those who were afflicted with HD. They were said to have the Devil’s Dance because of the chorea—a movement disorder causing involuntary spasmodic movements—that looked like an awkward, uncontrolled dance. Chorea is a primary symptom of HD. The Devil’s Dance was whispered about because of the shame, stigma and fear of this disease no one knew much about.
Times were different back then. There was no genetic testing or genetic counselling. Families just waited to see if symptoms would appear in them or in loved ones. Not much was known about the genetics of this disease or what the probabilities were of being affected if a parent had the disease. All I knew was what I heard about family members being sheltered and, in some instances, locked up so they wouldn’t harm themselves. They were deemed to have the Devil’s Dance, and not everyone behaved the same way. There was shame among afflicted families. There was also incredible fear.
This was in the early to mid-1900s in a remote community in northeast Newfoundland, where not many people talked about HD. Partly because there wasn’t much known about it, and no one in these small towns knew what to do anyway, especially if the afflicted person had rage tendencies and dramatic outbursts. My aunt Edna, who, along with my aunt Marg, helped in raising me after my own mother died, often became quite violent and would hit her husband, and hit him hard. She was sent away periodically for shock therapy because that was the preferred “treatment” of a disease that no one knew much about. I had an uncle who took his own life after he started exhibiting symptoms.
I suppose they call it the Devil’s Dance because those who are afflicted can’t keep still, legs going, feet going, torso bending. And the devil part? Well, that probably doesn’t need much explanation or observation. Only the devil could conjure such a tragic infliction. Some days I do feel like I’m in hell, to be honest. Fitting, I suppose. Not like I have a choice to dance with anyone else except with this devil of a disease.
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About Author Corinne Brown:
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Corinne was 10-years old when she told her teacher that when she grew up, she was going to be an author. A few decades may have passed since then, but the author dream was realized with the publication of her debut novel, Me, Mom & the Monster in the summer of 2026.
Corinne, a native Newfoundlander, grew up surrounded by books, newspapers and magazines. Her environment must have had some impact since she graduated from Memorial University of Newfoundland with a Bachelor of Arts and then went on to pursue a Journalism diploma at Mount Royal University in Calgary, Alberta.
Although her initial intention was to write fiction, Corinne says the story of Me, Mom & the Monster needed to be told first. She says sharing the intimate story of being part of a Huntington’s disease family opened the space for other ideas.
When she isn’t creating characters, and envisioning scenes and scenarios, she finds comfort in being outside. She lives in Surrey, British Columbia, Canada where she is continuously adding to her To Be Read stack and where she is currently writing her second book.
All’s Wool That Ends Wool (Clear Creek Mysteries) by Rebecca McKinnon
All’s Wool That Ends Wool (Clear Creek Mysteries) Cozy Mystery 7th in Series Setting – Rocky Mountains Independently Published Publication date : October 8, 2026 ASIN : B0HCXL9GSC Paperback will be available too.
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Wedding Bells Are Ringing Christmas Threats are Singing
Holiday cheer has spun through the tiny Rocky Mountain town of Clear Creek, leaving everyone excited for the annual Christmas festival. But the real event of the season — Jemma and Brandon’s wedding — won’t happen until the tourists head home.
While Jemma is fulfilling her one festival assignment of helping vendors set up, she learns a man has swapped the ornaments he’d listed on his application for a book he’s written about the string of local murders. To avoid reigniting everyone’s emotional distress, the event organizer asks him to leave. When Jemma and Brandon check back, instead of finding an empty booth they find the man dead.
Before Jemma can reassure anyone that her focus is on the wedding, not the investigation, unsettling gifts that twist The Twelve Days of Christmas start appearing at her shop. The holiday tune has never been more threatening.
The killer’s grudge is personal, but Jemma has more to protect this Christmas than her life. She needs to wind up the investigation so she and Brandon can finally tie the knot!
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About Author Rebecca McKinnon
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Rebecca McKinnon enjoys playing with her imaginary friends and introducing them to others through her writing. She dreams of living in the middle of nowhere, but has been unable to find an acceptable location that wouldn’t require crossing an ocean.
Secrets. Betrayal. And the woman left to pick up the pieces.
At seventy, Katrina Johnson thought she understood the shape of her life. She was a devoted wife, a mother who did her best, and the keeper of a Victorian farmhouse that had held her family’s joys and sorrows for generations. Then her husband dies and everything she believed about her marriage begins to unravel. As grief gives way to long-buried secrets, Katrina faces a devastating medical diagnosis, mounting financial pressure, and the very real possibility of losing the home that defines her past. Old fractures in her family deepen. Her relationship with her daughter remains painfully distant, while her son, caught between loyalty and resentment, attempts to hold what little remains together. When Katrina is forced to rent out rooms in her farmhouse, the presence of a young tenant unsettles her in ways she can’t ignore, awakening memories and betrayals she thought she had survived that now refuse to stay buried. Katrina now must confront the cost of the choices she made to preserve her marriage. With the past pressing relentlessly into the present, Katrina must face the life she built through silence and sacrifice and the parts of herself she left behind. She must decide whether reclaiming herself requires embracing the very wounds that shaped her. Tender, reflective, and emotionally resonant, this novel explores love, betrayal, identity, and the quiet courage it takes to begin again. It asks a haunting question at the heart of many lives: when so much has been lost, is it still possible to choose yourself?
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Praise for All That Was Left Unsaid:
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“Through an emotionally engaging plot and nuanced characters, Danielle Dragona’s All That Was Left Unsaid elegantly explores the process of discovering the person you want to be and figuring out how to get there.” ~ IndieReader Approved Review “In All That Was Left Unsaid, Danielle Dragona has created complex characters involved in fragile relationships. The plot is intensely charged, and a couple of bombshells are dropped, which threaten to destroy these relationships. The author has a way with words as well, identifying old age as the evening of life and the bucket list as the Love List. This story is about nurturing and valuing all our relationships, no matter their source.”” ~ Donna Stevenson, Readers’ Favorite ★★★★★ Five-Star Review “All That was Left Unsaid is a poignant, powerful novel, exploring heartfelt, realistic issues. Readers will connect with the characters and their intense emotional journeys, finding the story both heartbreaking and beautiful, yet ultimately uplifting. Danielle Dragona’s lyrical style will appeal to fans of Anita Shreve and Jodi Picoult. An outstanding debut!” ~ Valerie Biel, award-winning author of Haven and Beyond the Cemetery Gate “All That Was Left Unsaid by Danielle Dragona is a heartfelt story. The book was beautifully written, and the author handled sensitive topics with great care. I enjoyed reading the book and found myself pondering over it.” ~ Alma Boucher, Readers’ Favorite ★★★★★ Five-Star Review “… the author, takes you on a heart wrenching yet heartwarming ride through the main character’s journey of self discovery and self healing. The book will make you cry, will warm your heart and make you root for all the characters in her book. If you only read one book this year, I recommend reading this one because you wont regret it!” ~ Vered Cecilio “This book is great! I couldn’t put it down! Danielle really takes you along an emotional rollercoaster of Katrina’s journey and has you feeling what Katrina is feeling. The character development throughout the book is beautiful and the twist at the end, amazing! I love when a story has a good twist! I highly recommend this story!” ~ Nicole Stallone
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All That Was Left Unsaid Trailer:
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Book Details:
Genre: Women’s Fiction, Psychological Fiction
Published by: Book Publishing Plus Publication Date: July 15, 2026 Number of Pages: 274 ISBN: 9798950388514
At once, I’m transported back to the night when the image of what I thought was our perfect family erupted like a raging volcano. We were seated at our dinner table for Sam’s fifty-fifth birthday. The smell of freshly baked lasagna floated through the air like a scrumptious cloud atop our laughter, and the aroma of my spiced apple tea greeted my nose with its irresistible fragrance. Up until a few months prior, Sam and I were having our fair share of marital issues as well as intermittent difficulties from his untreated PTSD that lingered on, so we decided to restore our love for each other to get our relationship back on track and inject some happiness back into our bond. Except for a few hiccups, which were to be expected, I truly believed we were on the path to regaining what we’d lost. Filled with a renewed commitment to strengthening our marriage, I anticipated his birthday with such eagerness that year. To that end, I commissioned a surprise gift specially made just for him. I purchased a watch he had been ogling, and had it engraved with the words, “When I met you, time stopped,” with the date of our marriage underneath. We sang Happy Birthday, and when I went to the counter to cut his birthday cake, instead of placing a slice on his plate, I positioned the box with the sparkling bow on it instead. With zeal, I requested he open it. He unwrapped the dazzling box, his robust hands deftly undoing the multicolored ribbons. As he revealed the treasure, his eyes lit up brighter than a star in a glittering night sky. When he read the engraving, a smile emerged like gold on his face. I fastened the watch on his wrist and kissed his lips, which tasted of red wine. Just as our celebration was winding down, there was a knock at the door. I opened it with the plate in my hand that housed Sam’s precious present a short time before. A younger woman with luxuriously long brown curly hair and emerald green eyes was on the other side, wearing a little purple dress with sunflowers and white stiletto heels. When I gazed at Sam to discern who this woman could be, his eyes glazed over, and the blood drained from his face, rendering him as white as a ghost. “Sam, who’s this?” I asked as my eyes searched his, my heart beating out of my chest. “I’m so sorry, Katrina,” was all he could say, guilt and remorse plastering his face, mixing in one ugly heap. “Sorry for what?” I gasped, but deep down I knew, and everything I thought was true crashed down around me like meteors striking at my heart. “Tell her who I am,” the woman bellowed as she shoved herself into our home, the aroma of her cheap perfume gagging me. “Gloria, what are you doing?” Sam moaned plaintively, and life as we knew it shattered all around us into irreparable pieces. “You’ve been telling me you were going to leave for years. It’s just excuses after excuses. Be honest with your family. Be honest with yourself,” she shrieked, the veins bulging out of her neck in a fit of rage, her words punching me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. “How could you do this to me, Sam, to our family?” I howled as the glass plate that held bliss and love moments earlier slid out of my hand, crashing onto the floor into a million pieces like our life together. My body went numb. “I thought you loved me.” “I do, Katrina,” he protested, but the words were hollow, and I felt nothing except ice and emptiness. “You’re such a phony, Sam. He tells me how much he loves me all the time, and how he wants to leave you,” Gloria bellowed, spitting in my face. Billy shot up out of his chair like a blazing rocket ship. “Get the hell out my house you pathetic whore,” he screamed ominously, in a pitch I never heard before. “I’m your father’s whore, and he loves every minute of it,” Gloria declared with a caustic snicker. “Enough, Gloria,” Sam retorted viciously, his eyes ablaze with anger that his secret had been unleashed into the world. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some submissive and docile woman with no backbone like you tell me she is,” she spewed, her perfectly manicured index finger pointing in my direction. “This is it, Sam. You either make up your mind, or I’m done, and this time I mean it. Oh, and happy birthday. I hope I made it a special one,” she screamed, slamming the door behind her. My legs buckled, and I fell to my knees in despair, plummeting into the glass shards from the broken plate that sparkled like gems, cutting my skin as I tried to push myself back up. Tears streaked down my face like a raging waterfall. I couldn’t catch my breath. I was drowning, sinking into hell. Disbelief suffocated my brain, disorienting me as I realized what I was living before was a lie. Billy helped me to my feet as Sam sat motionless in his chair, his face expressionless and vacant, a stranger to me now. In the months that followed, I realized that I was weak. I was submissive and docile. I couldn’t let go. Instead of hating him, I started to loathe myself for not being able to leave, for loving him so much that I was willing to accept the lies, the deceit, and the infidelity. I despised my powerlessness, and in turn, I detested myself. *** Excerpt from All That Was Left Unsaid by Danielle Dragona. Copyright 2026 by Danielle Porciello. Reproduced with permission from Danielle Dragona. All rights reserved.
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About Author Danielle Dragona:
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Danielle Dragona has always possessed a passion for the written word. As a child, she kept fledgling journals, but as she matured into young adulthood, the chronicles acquired a more complex narrative, dissecting feelings, beliefs, and working through challenging emotions originating in childhood while trying to find the meaning in it all. Danielle is captivated by the human condition—riveted by its beauty even amidst chaos, tearing apart the messiness of existence to ultimately unearth the glimmering pearl. As an explorer of emotion, she continually works to uncover what lies beneath the surface in an unapologetically raw, real, and authentic manner. When she’s not writing, Danielle enjoys travelling, exploring new places, historical sites, music of all kinds, spending time with her family and friends, and being a perpetual student of life. She has a degree in English literature from William Paterson University in Wayne, NJ and lives in Northern New Jersey with her husband and young son.
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Billionaire businessman Sloane Davidson needs a wife—fast. And although Halayna
Tanaka is ten years younger than him, and an enticing temptation he managed to
resist years ago, she’s perfect for the role. But she thinks he’s some
gold-plated scumbag and wants nothing to do with him.
After a devastating string of bad luck, Halayna is struggling to stay afloat in
a world that keeps knocking her down. So when Sloane, her best friend’s
brother, offers a marriage of convenience as a solution to both their problems,
she’s tempted. The thing is she can’t stand him. He may be the sexiest man on
the planet, but he’s also arrogant, infuriating, and overbearing. She shouldn’t
want him. Shouldn’t even give him the time of day. Yet, her body ignites with
desire whenever he’s around.
Is selling out to a billionaire worth it? Especially if he tempts her beyond
her control. Or is this marriage of convenience the path to the love she always
dreamed of?
Running as if her ass was on fire, Halayna took the steps two at a time and burst into
her bedroom suite, slamming the door behind her. Struggling to get air into her
lungs, she paced the length of the room a couple of times before collapsing
face first onto the king size bed.
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What the heck had just happened?
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One minute, she and Sloane were talking, laughing, and eating, and in the next
minute, they were hugged up together kissing.
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“Oh my God!” Halayna groaned into the mattress as the full weight of what they’d
done hit her. He was her best friend’s brother. A man who was so far out of her
league, it was laughable. Yet, he had kissed her, and it hadn’t been just any
kiss, but a kiss that had her questioning her sanity.
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Sloane kissed me… and I liked it… a lot.
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Oh man, she more than liked it. She wanted a repeat. A repeat of his full,
demanding mouth taking what he wanted from her. A repeat of the way he held her
close to his big, hard, muscular body, and she wanted a repeat of how good it
felt being held in his strong, unyielding arms.
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For those few minutes, with their tongues tangling, all Halayna’s thoughts and
worries had fallen away, and in their place had been a peace she hadn’t felt in
months or maybe even years. Sloane had somehow made her feel more cherished
than she’d ever felt by a man. Which was saying a lot since she’d been engaged
to be married and supposedly crazy in love with Owen.
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She snorted at the thought. Talk about her picker being off when it came to
choosing men. It was a good thing her relationship with Owen had imploded.
Marrying him would’ve been a huge mistake because kissing and being with him
had felt nothing like what she had just experienced.
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Kissing Sloane had felt like a dream. Like something straight out of a sexy fairy tale,
an X-rated fairy tale. But this wasn’t a fantasy. His kiss and the way he’d
held her had been very real. She still felt his lips covering hers and the
taste of him lingered on her tongue.
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How was that possible when it had been just one kiss? One soul-stirring, passionate
kiss.
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It was clear she and Owen hadn’t had a strong connection. Not like what she had
felt a short while ago with Sloane, and that realization had her shook. She
almost married a man she was sure she’d been in love with. Yet, she never felt
the intense desire and passion swirling inside of her. Never felt that
I-can’t-live-without-you vibe.
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How was that even possible?
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Halayna flipped onto her back, and as her heart rate slowly went back to normal, she
stared at the ceiling, her mind reeling at these new realizations. The most
shocking one was Sloane wanting her to agree to a marriage of convenience… with
him.
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She shook her head. Sloane Davidson, the wealthiest man she’d ever known, had asked
her to marry him. He wanted her to be his fake wife. No, not fake. Just
convenient. Wait. Not convenient. He wanted a marriage of convenience. But what
the hell did that even mean?
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USA Today
bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a
happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes
contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys
rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won
numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her
Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award
(2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing
husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To
read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her
latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net
Publication date: October 9th 2026
Genres: Adult, Thriller
“This is an excellent read for those who want true psychological crime built around family secrets. Very highly recommended.” Asher Syed for Readers’ Favorite
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Amber clings to the wreckage of a shattered life; a hermit drowning in the ghosts of what used to be.
When someone dumps a mutilated body on her wilderness property, a cryptic clue makes her the prime suspect. To clear her name, she must confront the dark secrets of her tragic past while a shadowy executioner is closing in.
When the blade of death whittled my family of three down to only me, I ran. Grief had scraped me empty, so fourteen months ago I fled to a shack in the northeastern Washington wilderness. I was seeking sanctuary and hoping the pines would mend my shattered soul. Maybe that was too much to expect of the trees. At least they didn’t judge the monument to my failure; a recycling bin overflowing with wine bottles.
The morning light struggled through my grimy windows and poked at my hangover. I took my coffee mug outside and stood on the splintered porch of the small cabin. The air was deceptively still and heavy, carrying the sharp scent of sunbaked pine needles and the silent, shimmering threat of an approaching scorcher of a day. My cabin sat at the dusty elbow of two dirt roads. Between my door and the ditch was half an acre of thigh-high, dewless grass that stood stiff and dry alongside leggy wildflowers and a single tree.
The western hemlock tried for the heavens at nearly two hundred feet, and it was the area under the tree that drew my critical gaze. A woman sat in the tall grass, back against the tree. What was someone doing way the hell out here?
With an eye roll I left the house and stormed toward her.
“Hey!” I shouted.
The strap of her checkered sundress had fallen from one shoulder and as I reached her, I lifted a hand to tap her arm. As my finger got close, a cloud of flies lifted and re-settled into gaping, torn flesh. The wind shifted direction and a thick miasma of putrid decay stung my nostrils. I stumbled backward as my stomach lurched.
Dead!
I couldn’t stop the tremor in my jaw; my teeth clattered together as I whispered broken words, “I-I should check to be sure . . .”
But my voice trailed off because nothing that smelled like that could be anything but gone.
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About Author Wendy Roberts:
Wendy Roberts is an armchair sleuth, fan of all things mysterious but a huge chicken at heart. Her mind is often in the secretive, cloak and dagger world of intrigue while her physical presence is usually at home or on the road in her camper van. Wendy resides in Vancouver, Canada where she happily writes about murder and is always at work on her next novel.
For ten years, the Utopia Tower experiment has been a resounding success.
Conceived by a tech billionaire, the state-of-the-art apartment complex offers
a life-changing opportunity: rent-free living for residents who adhere to the
“Five Pillars of Harmony” and maintain the building’s pristine reputation. It
is a tight-knit community where neighbors look out for one another, ensuring
that nothing endangers their sanctuary and their right to continue living
there.
Antonio, a young lawyer, moves into the tower to care for his grandmother,
eager to join this idyllic social experiment. But the veneer of perfection
cracks when two young men—both considered bad apples and threats to the
community’s serenity—die in unusual circumstances within a single month.
Despite warnings to leave well enough alone, Antonio suspects a connection and
digs deeper. He discovers that, in a building designed for total harmony,
asking the wrong questions can make you the next problem to be handled. Is
there a killer hiding among the residents? Is the billionaire founder
protecting his investment? Or is the truth far more terrifying?
In an environment where preservation of the collective is the prime directive,
how far will the community go to protect itself?
Perfect for fans of Black Mirror, Blake Crouch, and high-concept tech
mysteries.
About Author Kevin G. Chapman
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Kevin G. Chapman is an attorney specializing in labor and employment law and
an independent author. His seven -book (so far) Mike Stoneman Thriller series,
includes Lethal Voyage, Winner of the 2012 Kindle Book Award, and Fatal
Infraction, the #1 Police Procedural of the year (CLUE Blue Ribbon Award).
Kevin’s stand-alone mystery/suspense/romance, Dead Winner was the winner of
the CLUE Blue Ribbon for best suspense/thriller, and Kevin’s most recent
stand-alone mystery, The Other Murder, was the Grand Prize Winner of the 2024
CLUE Award (best over-all mystery/suspense/thriller). Kevin has also written a
serious political drama, A Legacy of One (2016). Kevin is a resident of
Central New Jersey and is a graduate of Columbia College and Boston University
School of Law. Readers can contact Kevin via his website at
www.KevinGChapman.com.
Dreidels and Dead Ends (Bad Hair Day Mysteries) by Nancy J. Cohen
Dreidels and Dead Ends (Bad Hair Day Mysteries) Cozy Mystery 19th in Series Setting – Florida Publisher : Orange Grove Press Publication date : June 23, 2026 Print length : 246 pages Paperback ISBN-10 : 1952886392 ISBN-13 : 978-1952886393 Kindle ISBN-13 : 978-1952886409 ASIN : B0GWQMWF7Y
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A daring holiday heist at the local history museum sends hairstylist Marla Vail on her most tangled case yet.
When salon owner Marla Vail agrees to speak at the local history museum’s gala opening for a new exhibit, she expects applause—not a catastrophe. But shortly after she takes the stage, a thief steals the featured diamond-studded hairbrush, leaving behind an empty display case and a badly injured security guard.
Marla’s friend, museum curator Becky Forest, begs for her help in recovering the prized heirloom before the mayor uses this scandal as an excuse to cut their funding. To make matters worse, the antique hairbrush comes with a curse, and suddenly bad luck is spreading through town faster than a botched dye job. As Hanukkah festivities begin, Marla would rather be lighting candles than chasing clues, but with Becky’s job at stake, she takes on the case.
Her trail leads to a knot of suspects including the hairbrush’s owner, his greedy cousin, shifty museum staff, and a reclusive collector of mystical antiquities. Instead of enjoying menorah lights and latkes, Marla discovers murder, lies, and larceny. She’ll need sharp wits and a holiday miracle to save the museum and to keep the truth from being brushed aside.
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About Author Nancy J. Cohen
Nancy J. Cohen writes the Bad Hair Day Mysteries featuring South Florida hairstylist Marla Vail. Titles in this series have been named Best Cozy Mystery by Suspense Magazine, won the Readers’ Favorite Book Awards and the RONE Award, placed first in the Chanticleer International Book Awards and third in the Arizona Literary Awards. Her nonfiction titles, Writing the Cozy Mystery and A Bad Hair Day Cookbook, have won the FAPA President’s Book Award, the Royal Palm Literary Award, and IAN Book of the Year. When not busy writing, Nancy enjoys reading, fine dining, cruising, and visiting Disney World.
Alene Baron is already juggling frustrated employees, closed schools, and a beggar who harasses customers outside her café. Then two dead bodies are discovered in the charred remains of buildings owned by the husband of her pastry chef, Ruthie Rosin. The mystery deepens when both victims are found wearing jackets stamped with the name, “Rosin,” and crumbled in the pockets are the Whipped & Sipped café’s distinctive wrappers. As if that weren’t enough, Alene’s uncle, a convicted felon who vanished 22 years ago, suddenly appears in Chicago. With suspicion and chaos mounting, it’s all too much for the owner of the Whipped & Sipped Café.
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Praise for Charred: A Whipped and Sipped Mystery:
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“Peopled with tons of quirky characters and loaded with family drama, Charred is so much more than the average cozy culinary mystery.” ~ Donna Thompson “The Whipped and Sipped Mystery Series is a delectable treat.” ~ Julie Ditton “Gottlieb packs a lot into this third book Charred… murder, arson, identity theft, gambling, kidnapping, destruction of property, tax evasion, uncovering a hidden basement under the cafe with tins with treasures in them, family drama, secrets, the pandemic, trying to stay healthy, learning how to live a new life in semi-quarantine….” ~ Missi Martin (Stockwell)Charred “had just enough flavor to make it delicious, and just enough mystery to keep me guessing the whole way through!” ~ Bettybee306 “This series is right up my alley, and if you love cozy mysteries with a little romance and baked goods, it will be right up your alley, too! … This is a five-star book in a very neat little package!” ~ Suzie Mumba
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Book Details:
Genre: Cozy Culinary Mystery
Published by: Anamcara Press Publication Date: May 30, 2026 Number of Pages: 260 pages, Paperback ISBN: 9781960462824 (ISBN10: 1960462822) Series: A Whipped & Sipped Mystery, Book 3
It was warming up inside the car. Alene searched for Kacey and Kofi through the car window and the construction fence, but there was a jungle of trees and bushes lining the sidewalk. The post-fire building site was probably soggy and disgusting. If only she’d thought of bringing an old blanket to protect the back seat from burnt wood. Kacey startled Alene by opening the passenger door and jumping back in. “He doesn’t need my help,” Kacey said as she used her shirt to clean her glasses. “We were looking for a way to get into the site and my glasses got too smudged for me to see. I’ll stay in here with you.” Kofi had probably circled the tall fence surrounding piles of wet, muddy, and burned wood, trying to get inside. Moments later, they heard an owl hoot, and Kacey whispered it was Kofi letting them know that he’d gotten past the fence. What if tromping through the remains of the fire exposed Kofi to toxic materials? He wore gloves and a mask, but it wasn’t an N95 with protection against particulates. If paper masks didn’t protect against airborne particulates, how could they protect against a cunning virus? The sun had risen, but a scrim of humidity diffused the light. Alene thought she saw Kofi alternating between moving and crouching. She figured he was trying to be invisible. He was lanky, his legs bulging with muscles from years of riding his bicycle for miles through and around the city. They both lost sight of him for about ten minutes, but suddenly he rushed back to the car and jumped into the back seat. He hadn’t taken a single piece of wood. “How was it?” Kacey asked. Alene heard Kofi’s jagged breathing and turned around to watch him pull off his gloves and hat. “It was, um, weird and chilly,” he said, haltingly. “And there wasn’t anything I could use.” His focus was sideways, out the window, and he seemed tense. Alene turned away, imagining one of Frank’s police friends driving by and stopping to ask what she was doing. They drove home in silence and trudged to the elevators. Kofi, usually cheerful after an expedition to find materials, was unreadable and oddly stone-faced as he thanked Alene for the ride. Kacey mouthed her thanks as she unlocked her door, and Alene held her hand to her ear in a sign for Kacey to call later. Alene unlocked her own door, wondering why Kofi hadn’t found even one usable piece of wood. Before she could take off her jacket, her phone rang. “Kofi wants you to promise not to tell Frank about this morning,” Kacey said in a whisper. It seemed unnecessary; it wasn’t as if Kofi had started the fire, and Frank was a homicide detective, not a cop on the lookout for arsonists. “I can’t promise that. We tell each other everything,” said Alene, “But there’s nothing to tell, because Kofi came up empty.” “He’s worried that someone saw us there and the police will get him for trespassing,” said Kacey. Alene could hear her sniffling. Alene had already frittered away forty-five minutes driving them over there and waiting for Kofi to hunt for wood. “Come on, Kacey,” she said. “We didn’t see anyone, and no one saw us.” “But are you going to tell Frank that we were there?” Kacey asked. “Kacey, Frank would never do anything to hurt me or the people I love.” Being with Kacey had always required patience. “And I’m driving the getaway car, so if we were committing a crime, I’d be just as guilty.” Kacey said, “I hope you’re right.” She sounded more than a little paranoid. *** Excerpt from Charred by GP Gottlieb. Copyright 2026 by GP Gottlieb. Reproduced with permission from GP Gottlieb. All rights reserved.
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About Author G.P. Gottlieb:
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G.P. Gottlieb is the author of the Whipped & Sipped Mysteries (Battered, Smothered, and Charred, Anamcara Press). She is on the board of Sisters in Crime Chicagoland and a member of SinC Colorado, MWA, and Blackbird Writers. As host of New Books in Literature, a podcast channel on the New Books Network, she has interviewed over 280 authors.
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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for The Last Heir Of Bradbury Manor organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
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The Last Heir Of Bradbury Manor
By Michael Mizov
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Genre: Gothic Psychological Horror
Synopsis
The Last Heir of Bradbury Manor is an atmospheric gothic horror novel of haunted inheritance, family curses, and the terrifying secrets buried beneath a crumbling Yorkshire estate.
Lottie Bradbury has not set foot in Bradbury Manor for twelve years. Sent away as a child following her mother’s tragic death, she is summoned home in 1919 by the estranged father she barely knows. The once-great estate is failing, burdened by debt, decay, and generations of neglect. Her return comes with a price: an arranged marriage intended to save what remains of the Bradbury legacy.
But Bradbury Manor is not merely old.
At night, the house makes itself known. Strange sounds echo through the corridors. Rooms refuse to stay still. Moments slip out of place. The past refuses to remain buried.
As Lottie is drawn deeper into her family’s history, she uncovers a pattern stretching back centuries, one marked by unexplained deaths, buried betrayals, and a curse that never truly ends. It simply passes from one generation to the next. Everyone expects her to take her place. To continue what came before.
Caught between the expectations of her father, the promise of a future beyond the estate, and the growing realization that something is terribly wrong within Bradbury Manor, Lottie must decide how much of the truth she is willing to uncover and what it may cost her when she does. The closer she gets to the answers, the harder it becomes to tell whether she is exposing the darkness surrounding her family or being led deeper into it.
Perfect for readers of Mexican Gothic, The Silent Companions, and Rebecca, The Last Heir of Bradbury Manor blends haunted houses, family secrets, supernatural mystery, psychological tension, and the enduring power of the past.
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Enjoy this peek inside:
She didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking to the creak of floorboards outside her door.
For a strange moment, she felt as though she had surfaced from deep water, everything out of focus, too loud, the world arriving a heartbeat later than it should. The curtains were drawn. No moonlight. True dark.
The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that dinner was promised, but the footsteps continued down the hall. Her father, perhaps, finally going to bed.
The footsteps stopped. Turned. Marched back to her door. Was he coming to check on her?
She waited.
No knock. No motion. Stillness. She waited until waiting felt worse than opening the door. Creeping toward it, she listened.
Silence.
Lottie opened it.
No one. The hallway stretched empty in both directions.
“Father?” she called into the hallway, so softly she could barely hear herself.
No reply. But she was certain someone had been standing outside. She told herself it was the wind. Or the floor settling. But she didn’t believe it. The hairs on her neck rose. She slammed the door harder than she meant to.
Footsteps approached the moment it shut. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she stifled a scream.
The silence was worse than the steps. Something on the other side was listening too. Backing away from the door, she bumped into a serving cart she hadn’t seen. The silver lid of a covered dish fell to the floor with a crash. The tea beside it was still steaming.
Heart pounding, she turned on the light. The clock read half past one.
Morning was a long way off. She wasn’t sure what frightened her more: that the hallway had been empty, or that it hadn’t.
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About Author Michael Mizov:
Michael writes dark fiction that explores psychological breakdowns, fractured identity, and the strange absurdities of life. When not writing, he works in B2B marketing, renovates a possibly haunted Victorian house, and wrangles twin daughters with his wife in New Jersey.
Accolades:
2025 Top 100: Cheshire Novel Prize National Flash Fiction Day 2025: FlashFlood: Debut Flash: ‘Nobody’s Home’ by Michael Mizov Festivals: Michael Mizov – Awards – IMDb
A Limited-Edition Collection of Paranormal and Fantasy
Romance Stories
Including stories by:
Stephanie Morris – USA Today bestselling author
Charmaine Louise Shelton
Nadine D. Price
Danika LaRue
Kiera Rose
Peyton Lawson
Celia Breslin
Ravyn Wilde
Ryan L Reeve
When the moon rises,
desire follows.
Some lovers are chosen.
Some are destined.
And some are the kind you should run from, but where would be the fun
in that?
Lunar Seductions brings together nine steamy tales of supernatural
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Lose yourself among shifters, monsters, psychics, goddesses, and other
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divided by old grudges, or drawn together despite every reason to stay apart.
There are secrets to uncover, enemies to tempt, boundaries to cross,
and more than a few teeth and claws waiting in the dark.
After her last shift nearly kills her, human-wolf hybrid Darci has had
enough—it’s time to stop shifting once and for all. Armed with a cryptic note
from her dead shifter dad, she sets out in search of his mythical hometown in
the wilds of Rogue Valley, Oregon, hoping Dad is right, and the shifters there
might help.
As a dominant beta and pack protector, Ross is never taken by
surprise…until a half-wolf half-human pixie with the biggest green eyes he’s
ever seen lands on his doorstep. It’s rare for strangers to venture into their
world—rarer still for a fated mate to literally fall into your arms. But she
did, and he recognizes her immediately as his one and only.
Darci isn’t sure about the whole mate business. She just wants a normal
human life, free from shifting. Ross won’t give up on her wolf and tries to
help her accept her true nature and their mate bond. But the Full Moon is three
days away, threatening Darci with a potentially deadly shift, and certain pack
members would rather kill a human than help one. Darci might not survive long
enough to trust Ross with her heart.
.
A thump from outside on his deck,
heavier than the staccato taps of the hail, halted him in his foyer. More
offbeat thuds sounded near the front door.
Company
in this weather?
No
one would venture up his private road uninvited…
He
stalked to his door and released a bit of power in warning. If they were a
shifter, they would likely take the hint. And if they didn’t… Well, he was a
dominant wolf, a Beta, and one of the alpha’s enforcers.
They
don’t stand a chance.
The
feedback froze his fingers on the doorknob.
Female.
He
inhaled. Damn, she smells good.
Human.
Wolf.
Wait…both?
The
copper tang of blood hit his nose. She’s injured.
He
flung open the door and caught his visitor off guard, one small, white fist
raised to knock. The woman startled then fell forward. Ross caught her in his
arms then pulled her inside, kicking the door shut with one booted foot.
The
petite female sagged against him, a shivering bundle of sopping wet woman.
Underneath the dampness, her scent drop-kicked his gut.
Fresh
and sweet, like apples dipped in cinnamon and honey.
His
body perked up, taking extreme notice. A growl of possession threatened to tear
out of his throat, and an ancient, primal energy stirred to life inside him,
accelerating his pulse.
Holy
hell, she’s my potential mate.
The
scent of her blood spurred him into action. He lowered her gently to the floor.
“Are you okay?”
His
instincts urged him to check her for wounds everywhere, but he was a stranger
and didn’t want to spook her. But goddamn, he wanted to touch her. Peel off her
wet clothes. To see all of her and warm her with his body.
With
a jacket covering her torso, baggy jeans hiding her legs, and a ball cap pulled
low over her face, all he could see so far was her quivering pale chin, full
red lips, and delicate, trembling fingers peeking out from her coat sleeves.
“S-s-sorry,
d-dripping all ov-v-ver your f-f-floor,” she said, her teeth chattering.
Her
snow-white fingers curled into fists, her arms trembling with the effort to
keep herself upright. Blood droplets dotted the floor plank near her hip.
To
hell with propriety.
“You’re injured. Let me help you.” He pulled up her cap and damn near swallowed
his tongue.
Big
green eyes blinked up at him from a face so pale it made him think of
moonlight. Drenched, short black hair lay plastered to her head, the ends
framing features reminiscent of the fairies his sister loved to draw.
Ethereal
beauty. Want her to be my beauty.
She
flinched and batted his hand away. “Stop,” she rasped before listing to her
side, her body trembling.
With
the cold or fear?
He
desperately didn’t want her to be afraid. “Sorry. Please, let me help you. I’m
Ross. You’re safe here. I promise.”
.
.
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Celia Breslin lives in San Francisco, California, USA, with
her family, including three feisty felines who like to stalk across her
keyboard while she’s hard at work crafting urban fantasy, sci-fi and paranormal
romances. When not glued to her laptop, Celia likes to work out, read books (of
course!), hang with her family, and binge-watch sci-fi and fantasy TV shows and
movies. Matcha lattes keep her fueled for All The Life Stuff!
