In a semi-abandoned haveli deep in Rajasthan, a woman on a
social work project finds herself drawn into an enigmatic bond with a man — and
into the secrets the ancient walls have kept for generations, discovering her
own identity along the way.
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The Desert Awakening
by Gitanjali Bhagia
Genre: Mystery, Romantic Thriller
In a semi-abandoned haveli deep in Rajasthan, the desert
wind still carries whispers of the family that once lived within its crumbling
walls.
When Soma travels from her life in Mumbai back to the land
of her ancestors, she isn’t looking for love — she’s looking for herself. But
the haveli has other plans. Drawn into an enigmatic bond with a man as guarded
as the house itself, she finds that every question she asks about him leads
back to a secret the ancient walls have kept for generations. As the line
between attraction and danger blurs, and the past refuses to stay buried, Soma
must decide how far she’s willing to go — through Mumbai’s crowded streets and
Rajasthan’s sun-baked silence — to uncover a truth that could unravel
everything she thought she knew about her family, and herself.
For readers of The Henna Artist and The Palace of Illusions,
THE DESERT AWAKENING is a slow-burn thriller-mystery-romance about identity,
inheritance, and the secrets that outlive the people who kept them — written by
a deb.ut author whose own grandmother’s stories from Rajasthan inspired the
novel.
The place was picturesque from a distance. Built in the 19th century, the sandstone facade remained untouched allowing it to surrender its grandeur at dusk. Two domed structures at each end of the south side guarded the balconies of the main chambers. The original Indo-Islamic architecture was preserved from the north entrance with its intricate jaal stone gate, arched windows, and floral reliefs flanking the main wooden doors. The two-door access was a towering replica of the original fort-like entryway with a series of symmetrical melon-sized brass knobs accenting the simple wooden frame. Concrete and cement managed to invade the interior of the house after generations of reconstruction. Centrally, a courtyard outlined by a veranda echoed with voices of the past. A step down from the veranda, a garden once flourished intermingling jasmine and rose essence. Now it was diminished to soft desert sand with a few staggered terracotta planters making a feeble attempt to instill life into the semi-abandoned haveli.
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Malti sat on the edge of the veranda patiently with her bare cracked feet immersed in the cool sand. She had aged with the house, transforming her role from an ayah to general caretaker, now bearing the burden of holding the immense gate key. The sole resident of a former bustling household, she sat motionless. Adorned with a turmeric-stained crumpled cotton flowing skirt and tattered brown shawl, she waited for his arrival. Without any sign of anticipation, she rested on the mosaic tile of the veranda staring blankly at the wall in front of her. He mentioned that he would return at the end of the monsoon. It had been 2 days since the last rain.
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Malti looked away from the paan-stained wall and into her past — 26 years ago. She clearly heard him shouting, “Malti-ma! Malti!” He came running straight through the garden toward the kitchen where she was supervising the other maidservants Meera and Radha in sifting lentils and churning fresh cream for the evening meal. “I got first prize in 2 subjects…math and painting!” Avi pulled the bronze Aladdin lamp trophy with its white marble base out of his overflowing backpack. As a fourth-grade student now, he felt bigger than ever. Malti was expressionless as she looked at his mark sheet. “Hmm. I see that you can still do better.” Malti could only understand the numbers on his sheets as she had barely completed elementary school and could only read in Hindi. All his scores were pristine, but he was just shy of honors in his moral science class — a course that he would question throughout life. Avi was far from phased by her lack of enthusiasm because he knew he would be rewarded in due time with homemade kulfi ice cream swimming in rose syrup. Before she could tell him to change out of his uniform, he raced down the long corridor and slammed the door to his room demanding the attention of his two older cousins.
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Malti was jolted by the clanging sound of the wrought iron gate. She knew he had arrived. The iron gates creaked open almost by themselves — welcoming Avi to the ghosts of his past. As much as he tried to ignore the memories of his childhood in the village of Khuri, they kept surfacing and the smell of the damp sand only heightened the queasiness from nostalgia.
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Avi had spent the last 14 years in the States building a separate life. He tried to replace the feelings associated with his native land with new strides of the immigrant dream. It was not bitterness or resentment that caused him to suppress his childhood links… but a true longing for a past that could never be reproduced. The buzz of servants and his cousins and uninvited neighbors dropping in for a cup of tea amidst the morning calls of peacocks on the terrace, the vegetable seller repeating his call for the day, cows and water buffalos calling out to their herd… All of this tumultuous hubbub actually brought peace to his inner being. He was infused with a sense of belonging only to be shadowed by the desire to seek a sense of purpose. Avi was the first in his family to venture abroad; he thought this would be the pinnacle of perfection. Lost in the glamour of this illusion, he discovered nothing but the true meaning of loneliness. The urban landscape of his studio apartment in DC was no sanctuary. Residents in his buildings were like drones programmed to hover back and forth from work to home and home to work with absolutely no break in routine. Colleagues at work would perhaps start a shallow conversation, meet up for the happy hour ritual but always leave with the same cold affection. He felt a disconnect from everyone… including his wife, Anna.
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Gitanjali Bhagia is a first-generation Indian American. She
is not just a dedicated ophthalmologist practicing in Northern Virginia but a
storyteller woven from the threads of her own diverse heritage. She finds
inspiration in the rich tapestry of her ancestry, especially in the legacy of
her beloved grandmother, Vimla Bhagia, whose tales from her family’s home in
Rajasthan, India, ignited her imagination from a young age.
Born in Pennsylvania and raised in North Carolina, Gitanjali’s cultural roots
became the fertile soil from which her passion for writing blossomed. Her
frequent visits to Rajasthan not only connected her to her familial history but
also stirred a deep appreciation for the mystique and allure of the Indian
subcontinent.
With her enchantment of the tales whispered by the sands of Rajasthan,
Gitanjali weaves narratives that transport readers to captivating worlds. Her
writing carries the essence of her cross-cultural experiences, inviting readers
to explore the intricate nuances of identity, heritage, and the human
connection.
Everyone thinks their mother is murder but for mafia-family renegade Lucia Scafetti, that’s the literal truth.
When she laid her hitman father to rest, PI Lucia Scafetti thought she’d finally escaped her family’s criminal clutches. Ten years later, her estranged mom blows into Philly for a short visit and within days a friend’s dad is brutally murdered and Lucia is being menaced by her cousin and his fellow mafiosi. After her mother disappears, everyone: foes, friends, and free agents, descends upon Lucia in search of the thumb-drive her mom stole from a Caribbean drug lord. Lucia learns the hard way that the criminals besieging her will gladly kill to get their hands on that thumb-drive.
With the help of an intriguing ex-soldier, Lucia employs her skills, both detective and deadly, to solve the murder and unlock the secret of that enigmatic thumb-drive before it claims another life, be it her own – or that of her recently re-discovered son.
Lucia snapped into action, ordering Robbie to stay in the car with the dogs and retrieving her Glock from the secret compartment in the back seat of the Chevelle SS 454. She shook her head, indicating to Robbie he wasn’t getting an immediate explanation about the compartment and then stealthily approached the house.
Lucia decided to go around back and enter from the kitchen. The deadbolt had been defeated and there was no sound from the alarm system. This was no ordinary burglar.
Weapon ready, she crept into the living room where she could discern the muffled footsteps of someone descending the stairs. Lucia pointed her gun at the source of the noise and at the opportune moment, flipped on the lights. A hefty, masked and armed man froze on the fourth step as he realized he was facing a cocked gun.
Lucia warned, “If you’re thinking of trying anything, you better be a better shot than I am. Which is…unlikely.”
The man held his right hand out to his side, his gun loose. In a weirdly thick voice, he rumbled, “Hey, I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Breaking into my house armed with a military-grade semi is a really strange way to prove that.”
He chuckled and moved the gun slightly in a non-threatening manner. “Military grade? Nah, this is just a—”
“A Beretta Cx4 Storm. Which means you are definitely prepared for trouble.”
Rather than refuting her point, he urged, “I just want the thumb-drive, the real one. The one your mother stole from me.”
Not recognizing the term ‘thumb-drive’, Lucia silently contemplated whether this guy could possibly be looking for a body-part from someone her mother had killed. “You worked with my mom? Who are you?”
“I’m not wearing this mask ’cause I’m ugly. Who I am is none of your business. Just hand over the drive and no one gets hurt.”
“Seeing as I have the drop on you, that’s a toothless threat,” Lucia declared. “And I don’t know what it is you’re looking for, but you’re not gonna find it here.”
“For your sake, lady, I hope you’re lying.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m not the last person who’s gonna come looking for that thumb-drive. And I’m sure as hell not the most dangerous.”
Nodding at his gun, she countered, “Hard to believe. And I don’t even know what a thumb-drive is let alone—”
“It’s a computer thing,” Robbie announced from somewhere behind her back, his presence until that moment completely undetected. “You use it to—”
“Robbie?!” Her eyes remained trained on the masked man as Lucia barked, “What the hell! What are you doing here?”
“I was worried about you so I came to check. Don’t worry, I left the dogs in the car. You know, so they won’t get hurt.”
“But it’s okay if you get hurt?!”
Taking advantage of the momentary distraction this argument provided, the man on the stairs suddenly leapt over the banister and dashed towards the kitchen.
Lucia followed but he was too quick for her. Standing on the back deck, listening to his footsteps retreating into the darkness, Lucia briefly considered giving chase. She quickly discarded the idea. Not only was there Robbie to think of, but Lucia was loathe to incite a gunfight that might frighten Mrs. Schwartz, the elderly widow who occupied the twin house attached to her own.
When she got back in the house Robbie held up his backpack. “I got it.” He took a deep breath and then said, “Wow, that was….”
“Terrifyingly dangerous?” she offered, while surveying the wreckage around her. The intruder had obviously conducted a very thorough search.
“Nah, exciting! I knew it was safe when I heard you handling that guy like a pro. Otherwise, I would’ve stayed in the kitchen. I swear.”
Lucia sighed heavily and impulsively put her free arm around his shoulder. “Rule number one, Rob? When guns are drawn? The situation is never, ever, safe.” She pulled him to face her and stared intently into his eyes. “Capish?”
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About Author Felicia Watson:
Felicia Watson started writing stories as soon as they handed her a pencil in first grade. She’s especially drawn to character driven tales, where we see people we recognize, people who struggle with their mistakes and shortcomings, acknowledge them, and use that knowledge to grow into wiser human beings.
When not writing, Felicia spends her time chasing after her not-so-brilliant, but darling and beloved dogs, is chased by her truly brilliant, darling and beloved husband, is known to friends and family as an amateur pastry chef, and still finds time for swimming and her day job as a scientist.
The Tell-Tale Art (Tri-Star Investigations) by Lawrence E. Rothstein
The Tell-Tale Art (Tri-Star Investigations) Mystery – Thriller 3rd in Series Setting – Chicago, Provence Publisher : Wild Rose Press Publication date : April 13, 2026 Print length : 304 pages Paperback ISBN-10 : 1509264876 ISBN-13 : 978-1509264872 Digital ISBN-13 : 978-1509264889 ASIN : B0GHZNJ17T
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After a Chicago gallery owner’s apparent suicide is unmasked as murder, brilliant Marko Korb, intrepid Kelan Su, and dauntless Desmond St. Clair of Tri-Star Investigations hunt a killer. A tense stakeout, twin break-ins, and two brutal murders propel them into deciphering an artistic code, battling an international gang, rescuing a kidnapped colleague, and uncovering a cache of Nazi-looted art. With help from an old ally of Korb, the chase hurtles from Chicago’s mean streets through the countryside, culture, and cuisine of Provence—and back again. Every clue is a brushstroke; every step could be their last.
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About Author Lawrence E. Rothstein
Writing mysteries is my third career. In all of my careers as a lawyer, a university professor, and now as an author of novels, finding the right words to present an idea was always important and enjoyable. As an academic, I wrote many published scholarly pieces, including a book and book chapters. I started writing mystery/legal scenarios as hypothetical cases for law courses I taught. I get my ideas from the news, particularly legal news, my previous legal work, areas of academic research, and other detective stories. With regard to The Tell-Tale Art, I used my experiences living and working in Aix-en-Provence. My detectives are based in Chicago, where I was born and raised.
What if everything you believed about yourself was totally wrong?
For David Byrdsong, life is a series of daily obligations. An attorney, he lacks both ambition and the ability to commit to a long-term relationship with his girlfriend, Gayle. Abandoned by his family at an airport when he was eleven, he learned to blunt his feelings, despite his subsequent adoption by a loving couple. Until one day, when David discovers his own face in a missing child ad. Suddenly driven to uncover the truth about his past, he is forced to tap into his inner strength as he encounters corporate conspiracies, murdered bystanders, and distressing suspicions about the only family he’s ever really trusted. David enlists Gayle’s help—and the help of an unlikely stranger with secrets of his own—as he attempts to find his true family, whoever they are.
Have You Seen Him is a story of lost identity, dangerous secrets, and a deeply personal pursuit of the truth.
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Praise for Have You Seen Him:
Next Gen Indie Gold Award winner and IBPA Silver Award winner, Have You Seen Him has earned praise from readers and reviewers alike. “Lee debuts with a dazzling maze of courtrooms, kidnappers, and unsolved mysteries in this substantive thriller, boasting a rich ensemble cast.…Have You Seen Him is consistently sincere, never losing sight of its spirit, and always ensuring readers are both challenged and charmed right up to the final page.” ~ BookLife “…a slow-burning, emotional thriller that explores identity, trust, and the ripple effects of secrets long buried….This is a debut worth reading!” ~ Natasha Reed “I loved the numerous reveals, and some made me gasp out loud! I won’t give any spoilers, so I won’t ruin it for you. If you love to be kept guessing until the end…give this book a try.” ~ Julie Kodama “…delivers enough action to trigger a fight-or-flight response. The sparse touch heightens suspicion, palpable dread, and tension, fueling the overall pace….[E]veryone will stay engaged.” ~ C. Elyse, A Sip, A Shout Out, and a Sentence “Cleverly written and thoughtfully crafted, Lee’s debut is action-packed and entertaining with enough emotion and depth to hook you. Gayle was my favorite character—she kicks ass.” ~ Mystery Manon, The Cluesletter “…an impressively engaging, cleverly scripted, and simply riveting read from start to finish. Especially recommended for fans of unique suspense thrillers….” ~ Midwest Review “The plot contains action, mystery, murder, secrets, and lies. There’s potential here for a sequel, and I’ll be one of the first in line to read it.” ~ Stephen Christopher, Readers’ Favorite “The action and the mystery kept me reading. I had to know why he was missing.” ~ Briana Fitzpatrick “This book was one that definitely pulled me in as twists and turns unravelled. Overall it was a twisty search for truth, tangled in corporate secrets, buried trauma, and family drama.” ~ A.D. “I really enjoyed the author’s style of writing, the chapters were short and to the point and even though the storyline was intricate and multi-dimensional, it all came together.” ~ Jameelah Deleon
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HAVE YOU SEEN HIM Trailer:
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Book Details:
Genre: Thriller, Suspense, Mystery
Published by: Butterfly Effect Press Publication Date: July 1, 2025 Number of Pages: 270 ISBN: 9798991867214
Kimberly Lee, JD, is a versatile writer, workshop facilitator, and editor with a passion for nurturing the imaginative spirit and helping others reveal their creative gifts. Kimberly holds degrees from Stanford University and UC Davis School of Law, along with certifications from Amherst Writers & Artists, SoulCollage®, Guided Autobiography, and the Center for Journal Therapy. Recent collaborations include Esalen Institute, Omega Institute, Hollyhock Retreat Center, and The Huntington. Kimberly’s stories and essays have appeared in numerous publications and anthologies, and she has served on the staffs of Literary Mama, F(r)iction, and Carve magazines. She lives in Southern California with her husband and three children.
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Have You Seen Him… And This Giveaway?
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Murder, mines, and missing millions—retirement just got interesting.
When a shady real estate developer is found murdered beneath Harriet Keaton’s family home—shot, stabbed, and surrounded by rare 1830s gold coins—her estranged twin brother Joey is the prime suspect. He insists he’s innocent…but won’t name the real culprit. With Joey refusing to talk and millions missing from the retirement accounts, the future of the Independence Retirement Community is suddenly on the line. Now, whip-smart Harriet and her sleuthing partners—Craig Travail (savvy lawyer, reluctant romantic) and Yeager Alexander (conspiracy theorist, resident rabble-rouser)—must dig into the past to solve the crime. Their best lead? A decades-old memoir from Harriet’s treasure-obsessed father and whispers of a long-lost gold hoard. But treasure has a way of attracting trouble. As fortunes vanish and suspects multiply, the trio must untangle two decades of betrayal—before the killer strikes again. Murder, mayhem, and the Carolina gold rush: welcome back to the Indie, where retirement is anything but quiet.
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Praise for Deadly Gold Rush:
“Deadly Gold Rush is a satisfyingly complex entwining of events and personalities that proves hard to put down.” ~ Midwest Book Review “Deadly Gold Rush caught my attention from the first sentence and kept me transfixed to the very end. Couldn’t put it down.” ~ Readers’ Favorite Reviews “Lively mystery bubbling with unforgettable characters and historical spirit.” ~ Booklife Reviews “Mystery fans who love Richard Osman’s cozy Thursday Murder Club books will enjoy the similarly energetic take on mystery-loving retirees.” ~ Kirkus Reviews
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DEADLY GOLD RUSH Trailer:
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Book Details:
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Genre: Mystery, Legal Thriller, Historical
Published by: Lystra Books & Literary Services, LLC Publication Date: March 3, 2026 Number of Pages: 378 pages, Paperback ISBN: 979-8992136357, Paperback Series: The Indie Retirement Mystery Series, Book 2 | Each is a Standalone Mystery
The narrow alleyway walls muffled the gunshot as uptown Charlotte slept. It was one thirty in the morning on Tuesday, April 1. The phone call didn’t last long. “It’s me,” the caller said. “I need your help.” “I’m listening.” “I have a body.” “Whose?” “Chance Landry.” “Where are you?” “Lincoln Street. Inside the Rivafinoli Passage in South End. Next to the Queen Charlotte mural.” “Anyone with you?” The caller explained who else was still there. “You leave. Tell them to stay with the body and wait for my call. I need to think.” Three minutes later, the call was made to the only living person remaining in the passage who could help. “I am going to text you an address.” Next, they explained what to do with Landry’s body when they got to the address. “Are you kidding? He’s already dead.” But the person giving instructions had no sense of humor. “Just do it.” A text message followed with the address. The person who received the message knew how to follow directions and did as they were told.
Chapter Two
Vengeance is Sweet
The 11:15 p.m. email on Craig Travail’s phone read: Your friends are about to suffer financial ruin, untold heartbreak, and trials and tribulations. You have only yourself to blame. What? Travail read the email again, slower this time. He read it twice more. There was no author name. Just an unknown vengeanceissweet email address. Travail exhaled. His email checking practice was a bad habit, a routine held over from his career when clients expected their lawyers to be available 24/7. Nothing good ever came of his itch to scratch his email in-box for late-night messages, like now, when it would be twice as difficult to sleep after watching the late night local news—with its smorgasbord of crimes, collisions, and natural disasters—and reading this email. One news story was about elder fraud, a reminder of how susceptible retirees are to financial fraud schemes. Was that what was coming for his friends at the Independence Retirement Community, which everyone called the Indie? Were the residents about to suffer financial ruin because of risky investments? If so, he’d be angry at the perpetrators for their heartless guile and frustrated with his friends for being so gullible. The television show made the point, though, and he agreed, that adults spend most of their lives collecting assets to make retirement possible and the rest of their days worried if their accumulated treasure will last as long as they do, leading some retirees to make risky and uninformed choices with their nest eggs. Was that what his friends had done? Made bad choices with their money? Is that what the emailer taunted him about? Travail’s instinct was to fire off a harsh response to the email with some choice lawyer-like words and warnings, but he ignored the bait—he suspected they wouldn’t respond anyway—and he punched the remote control instead. The television screen faded to black, and his den fell silent, save for Blue’s rhythmic snores and his jerking legs. Travail’s black and tan coonhound must be dreaming, chasing ducks along the lake behind Travail’s cottage, as he was apt to do in real life, and as usual, failing to catch the waterfowl before they darted back into the water. Travail leaned over his club chair’s arm and let his free hand graze on Blue’s back until his pet stopped running in his sleep. Maybe the email was a prank. Maybe, like him, a friend had become bored with life at the Indie. And yet, the email bothered him. Whose lives—which friends’ lives—were about to be shattered? And how? And for that matter, why? And what did he have to do with it? Since moving a year earlier into the Independence Retirement Community, Travail had made two best friends, Harriet Keaton and Yeager Alexander, and several other good friends. He’d met many other retirees, some whose company he tolerated and some whose company he could do without. Either way, he didn’t want to see anyone hurt. He certainly didn’t want his close friends to suffer, and he didn’t want to be the person responsible for their pain. The flame on the candle he’d lit this morning was down to the base of the wick. He turned away from it, detesting the severe loneliness of March 31. There was no logic for feeling so alone—what with all the crimes, court cases, and historic mysteries Harriet, Yeager, and he navigated since he arrived at the Indie and the time they spent together—but it was hard to control his feelings, especially the feeling of being by himself. A Jewish resident told him about the tradition of lighting a candle on the anniversary of a loved one’s death. It felt loving to strike the match in Rachael’s honor, but as day became night, Travail’s mood shifted. It had been three years to the day. The flickering light had a strobe-like effect on the things that reminded him of Rachael: her furniture, her quilts, her artwork, her pictures. Travail missed Rachael’s kindness, her playfulness, her creativity, and the rituals they shared. The flicker made the past too present, making him long for another night and morning and day together. She was here, there, and everywhere, but nowhere at all. Assertive is what he’d needed to be in the moment that changed everything. He and Rachael were in the mountains at a high-elevation rental for a getaway when a freak storm rolled in and dumped six inches of snow on the ground. Rachael decided to drive to the local general store to stock the pantry for their cozy weekend together. He had a work call and offered to go with her after he finished. “It’s just snow,” she’d said. “Okay, but be careful,” he’d responded. “Always, dear.” Then she kissed him on the mouth, patted his bottom, and walked out of his life forever. The news came in a phone call from the local police. First came the shock, then the grief, and then the Monday-morning quarterbacking. He should have insisted Rachael let him drive her. He should have done more to protect her. If he had, maybe she would still be here. Maybe the out-of-control delivery truck that hit the black ice would have killed him instead of her, or maybe Travail could have prevented the accident. Spring in North Carolina was supposed to be about new beginnings, not endings, with the dogwoods and azaleas in bloom, but his eyes grew wet from the memories, and he felt a sudden heaviness in his body. He looked at the email again and became resolute. For sure, he would not make the same mistake twice with the people he cared about. He would protect them. But who was behind the email? Whoever wanted sweet vengeance against his friends wanted vengeance against him too, because their pain would be his pain. The question for his lawyer brain—used to solving riddles for years—was: who despised them and him that much? Like an unexpected electric shock, the answer startled him. This email was exactly the kind of plot his nemesis, Robert Elkin, would conjure. If Elkin hurt Harriet, Yeager, and his other close friends, he hurt Travail worse. But wasn’t Elkin no longer a threat? They’d exposed his concealment of the truth about the Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence, avoided death at the hands of his father, pushed him out of his Big Law leadership position, and seen to it that the state bar took his law license. Elkin no longer had big-time lawyer power. The only thing he had was anger, resentment, and a low-paying job as a paralegal with a former client, though Travail didn’t know the client’s name or their business. It was a sharp drop from the level of influence that had made the man dangerous, and yet, there was reason to be cautious. Elkin was cunning and would hold a grudge till death do they part. Travail leaned his head back in his chair, looked up at the ceiling, and pondered the text again: financial ruin, untold heartbreak, and trials and tribulations. Harriet was too smart to get caught up in a financial scam. Not so with Yeager. He was impulsive, likely to jump at the chance to possess something shiny because it might become shinier. Travail pulled an olive-colored sweatshirt over his t-shirt, woke Blue, and took him into the backyard to do his business under the stars. While he waited, Travail glanced across Lost Cove Lake to Harriet’s cottage. He inhaled the fresh night air, and he marveled at the main building’s reflection on the lake’s surface. Harriet’s lights were out. She, an early riser, must be asleep. Seeing Harriet’s peaceful cottage raised a question he’d been pondering. Should he ask her on a date? Carrie Roberts, the Indie Gossip Queen, thought so and often shared her opinion. Most days, it seemed like the right decision not to ask Harriet—or anyone else, for that matter—on a date. Three years wasn’t that long, really, since Rachael died. And yet, here he was, caught in a web he’d spun for himself, trapped somewhere between what he no longer had and the companionship he wanted but resisted. Harriet was his friend. Should he keep it that way? Harriet would most likely turn him down anyway. He was a project, and he knew it, starting with the lesson she’d had to teach him last year that retirement living is not life’s dead end but a fresh path forward. And now, with him being a sixty-six-year-old widower afraid to address his feelings, she’d be quick to beg off. Blue finished up, and the two headed inside. His watch told him it was a new day. He blew out the dwindling flame on the candle and headed to his bedroom, where Blue was already curled up on the end of Travail’s queen-size bed. Wearing only striped boxers and a white cotton t-shirt, Travail pulled the covers up to his chin. With a good night’s sleep, he’d be fresh in the morning to put his effort into stopping Elkin. He still had his law license, after all, and as Yeager would tell him from time to time, “You ain’t dead yet.” He closed his eyes and imagined tying a dry fly rig with two nymphs on a dropper line, the key to catching river trout on and below the surface at the same time. This falling-asleep system was better than counting backward from three hundred by threes. It worked its charm in less than five minutes. Travail didn’t know when he dozed off that the murder train had left the station. He didn’t know when he began to snore that someone had already set the trap for his friends. And he didn’t know when he fell into a deep sleep that when the sun came up, he would ponder, and not for the first time, how he could have been so wrong to believe retirement living would ever be boring or lonely. *** Excerpt from Deadly Gold Rush by Landis Wade. Copyright 2026 by Landis Wade. Reproduced with permission from Landis Wade. All rights reserved.
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About Author Landis Wade:
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Landis Wade is a recovering trial lawyer turned author who writes award-winning mysteries and legal thrillers with a historical bent. His publication credits include six works of fiction, eight non-fiction writing books, many short stories, and a podcast that produced 400 episodes of author interviews and writing discussions. His first novel in his Indie Retirement Mystery series, Deadly Declarations, won ten awards and Kirkus Reviews said of his second in the series, Deadly Gold Rush, that “Mystery fans who love Richard Osman’s cozy Thursday Murder Club books will enjoy the similarly energetic take on mystery-loving retirees.” Landis splits his time between Charlotte, Durham, and the North Carolina mountains. He is the recipient of the 2025 Founders Award for service to the Charlotte Writers Club and the literary community.
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When TV reporter Pete Lemaster gets an after-hours call from a college friend, he doesn’t expect it to catapult him into another big story in his reporting career. Scott “Uncle Scotty” Wilkins—a globe-trotting, charismatic businessman—has been arrested at a Singapore airport with enough drugs to guarantee a life sentence. The case explodes into an international spectacle. Viral images of Scotty charm the public, fuel conspiracy theories, and attract opportunists eager to profit from the scandal. For Pete, it’s personal—he owes the family a favor. But pursuing the truth could compromise his career. Teaming up with police lieutenant Rebecca Dawes, Pete follows a trail that leads from glossy boardrooms to Singapore’s prisons. Every clue exposes another enemy: betrayed lovers, vengeful spouses, shady investors, and rivals with millions at stake. But the closer Pete gets to uncovering who framed his friend, the more he realizes he may be the next pawn in a deadly game of deception.
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If you enjoy journalist-sleuth mysteries like The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, you’ll be hooked on The Lemaster Files!
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Praise for The Pawn:
“The Pawn is a stellar sequel to The Bystander. I was zipped away on this zany and captivating narrative.” ~ Leaf Bound Review “The Pawn is the follow-up to this author’s first novel, The Bystander, featuring reporter Pete Lemaster. I loved the first book, and this one was no exception. The pacing, dialogue, and banter keep the reader engaged in the story. There were many times I did not want to put the book down.” ~ Mystery Review Crew “Fast-paced yet purposeful, The Pawn explores timely themes of media influence and the fragility of truth in the digital age… With a well-earned twist and confident storytelling, the novel is a sophisticated, gripping sequel that not only meets but surpasses expectations.” ~ Steve, Best Thriller Books.
Book Details:
Genre: Mystery, Conspiracy Thriller
Published by: Tule Publishing Publication Date: May 13, 2026 Number of Pages: 251 ISBN: 9781970840513 (ISBN10: 197084051X)
THE PHONE STARTED to vibrate its way across the kitchen counter. I hated that. It shook when it went unanswered, bleating like a wounded sheep. Pay attention to me. Answer me. But it was my day off, and my phone had been set to DO NOT DISTURB. Yet it still rang. I was watching the NCAA basketball tournament, as was my right on my day off. My Florida Gators were struggling more than they should as the favorite in their first-round game. I had a little bit of money but mainly pride on the line. Still bleating. I read an article recently, saying members of Generation Z were now offended if you called unannounced. Text before you call, they so arrogantly professed. Make an appointment to hear any voice associated with the participation-trophy generation. Being neither a Gen Zer nor a trophy, I didn’t know who was calling. Someone in my contact list had called in rapid succession, working around the do-not-bother-me setting. So, either something was up, or the spam callers had cracked another smartphone code. I got up and went to the kitchen and to the phone. I wanted another beer anyway. The name on the screen said Cole Nathan, one of my college buddies. Not work. Thank you, basketball gods. I was fully expecting we would immediately jump into a conversation about why our star player was launching three-pointers without anyone under the basket to rebound. The phenom had also seemingly forgotten how to pass. I picked up the phone and just started talking, “Can you believe this guy? I mean, I know he’s gonna be in the NBA next year, but he’s like one step from half-court and letting it fly.” “Pete, I’m not watching the game, sorry,” Cole said. “I need to talk to you about something.” “Oh, okay,” I said. “What’s going on?” “Uncle Scotty is in jail.” “What?” I said. I had to think for a second. I had met Cole’s uncle a few times in college. We went out to bars with him. “What happened?” “He got arrested yesterday at the airport in Singapore.” “You’re kidding. Shit. For what?” “Drug possession.” “Damn. That sucks. Singapore?” Questions were flowing through my head faster than I could articulate them. “Um, I don’t really know what to say, man. I can’t even remember Scotty doing drugs. It was usually fun, but it’s been years since you have even mentioned him. Did he have a problem? And wait, Singapore?” “He’s not a drug dealer, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cole said. “I don’t know what I’m asking. Let’s start with what happened and what you know.” “I’m not exactly sure what’s going on. We got a report they found drugs in his luggage when he was going to Singapore on business.” “What kind of business?” I asked. Scott was always pretty slick. “He works for a real estate fund. He’s been there before. It’s a big mess,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cole. It’s terrible. Do you need a referral for a lawyer? I can talk to my brother. I don’t think this is the kind of thing he does, but he knows a lot of other lawyers.” “Well, he’s got a lawyer over there, and we’re talking to some guys here. But we think it might hit the news and be bad, and that’s why I thought about you.” “Okay, Cole, you know I cover Jacksonville, right? Every once in a while, something crazy happens and I cover national news, but I’m not sure how I can help.” “Uncle Scotty lives in Jacksonville,” Cole said. “He does?” I said, putting down the not-yet-opened new beer and looking for a pen. “Yes, he does.” “Oh, okay, if a business guy from Jacksonville just got arrested in Singapore, I’m guessing our desk already knows about it. I don’t know who’s going to cover this or even if it’ll get assigned to somebody. Do you guys want the world to know about this? I mean, I can’t kill it if the desk is on it, but I might be able to help. What do you want?” “Pete, we’re worried the world will think my uncle is a drug dealer. You know him. I don’t know what happened, but something is not right about this. It makes no sense. I need help figuring out what is going on. My uncle is rich. He has no reason to smuggle drugs.” “Was he traveling alone?” I asked. “Did he ever get mar-ried?” “My uncle, married? That’s a good one.” Cole said. “He was traveling alone, baching it like always.” “Got it. Well, I was supposed to be off today to watch the game, but it looks like our Gators have this one under control.” Famous last words. The Gators were up eight with seven minutes left. “I will make some calls, see what I can find out, and call you back. Is this the best number?” “Yes and thanks,” Cole said. As I hung up, our star guard again launched a bomb from the mid-court logo, which clanged off the rim and bounced over the backboard. Not sure who was giving me more heartburn—the star player or Cole’s uncle. I called the breaking news desk at WJAX-TV where I work as a general assignment reporter and sometimes investigative journalist. My friend and colleague Olivia Marquez, a breaking news digital journalist and all-around technology maven answered. “I thought you were off,” she said. “I am, but when did that ever stop me from bugging you?” I said. “Have you heard anything about a Florida businessman being arrested in Singapore on drug charges?” “Is he from Jacksonville?” “He is.” “I think I would have noticed that.” I could hear her typing, and I turned to take another look at the game. A moment later, she found it. “Well, here’s something from the Associated Press about American executive Scott Wilkins arrested in Singapore, I guess yesterday.” “That’s the one,” I said. “But isn’t it already tomorrow over there, like a major difference, twelve hours ahead?” There were several questions in there. Olivia had a su-premely quick brain. “Says he entered the country from a flight from San Francisco, and he originated in Orlando.” “Gotcha. Well, he’s from Jacksonville.” “Do you know him?” “Well, sort of. He’s my friend’s uncle. I met him when I was in college. We painted the town a few times, among other things. The family is freaking out.” “Can’t blame them. What do you want me to do with this?” “Do me a favor and just hold tight on it. I will call you back.” Cole answered on the first ring. “Pete, what do you know?” he asked. “It’s on the AP wire with his full name and that he’s an American businessman arrested in Singapore on drug charges. It’s short. The story is tagged Orlando because I guess he flew out of there. I’m guessing the story hasn’t gotten any traction because he’s not from Orlando and the time difference.” “What do you mean about Orlando?” “Stories come across the wire tagged with locations, kind of like keywords. In Jacksonville, we care about stories relevant to Jacksonville. In Orlando, they are looking for stories tagged to there. Doesn’t mean anything except it kind of gives you and your family some time to try to get ahead of it.” “Okay, so it’s not all over the place?” “Not yet. But it may not turn into anything because, you know, the news gods are fickle. Right now, Orlando news stations might be trying to confirm he is from Orlando, but they aren’t finding anything because he’s not. So the story is in limbo.” “You are in a weird business, Lemaster,” Cole said with a sigh. “Yes, I am. Listen, it’s up to you. It’s my day off. I can do nothing on this story and be fine with it, but I can’t prevent somebody else from covering it. If you want me to do something today, then you have a bit more control because, well, we’re buddies, and I’m gonna make sure it’s balanced. Honestly, we would probably start with a short item that this local guy was locked up in Singapore. If I get you on the record, confirming it and the basic info, then we can pull a short story together, maybe thirty seconds or so. Just a short item. We don’t have a lot. We would need to get a picture.” I paused. “Or I could watch the end of the game, and we can wait it out and talk tomorrow. It’s up to you.” “My uncle has been locked in a fucking jail cell in Singa-pore for like the past two days, so whatever they’re doing now hasn’t gotten him out,” he said, somewhere between pissed off and distressed. “So I say let’s try to generate some support. We’ve got to maybe try to get the government to help us or somebody to help us.” “I get it,” I said. “Do you know what the penalties are for drug possession in Singapore, Pete?” “I have no idea.” “Google it. It’s scary. We need to do the story.” “Okay, Cole. So, let me get this on the record and make it official. You are confirming that your uncle, business executive Scott Wilkins of Jacksonville, was arrested in Singapore on drug charges?” “Yep, 100 percent. He lives in Ponte Vedra Beach.” “And you are saying he is being wrongfully detained?” I added, coaching-prodding in a way I technically should not do. “Absolutely. Singapore has made a huge mistake, and we need the support of the US government to get him out. How does that sound?” “That helps me. Do you have a picture of him?” “I will send you one.” “Okay, I will let you know if I need anything else.” We hung up. I called Olivia back. “Hey, so is Rod there?” I asked. Rod Kirby was the acting general manager of the station and my boss. “Yeah, he’s in his office. Do you want to talk to him?” she said. “No, not yet. Please do me a favor and take this down. I can confirm business executive Scott Wilkins of Ponte Vedra Beach has been detained on drug charges in Singapore. Looks like it happened two days ago. I’m trying to get you a picture. The family in the US is saying he has been wrongly detained, and they want the US government to intervene. Please take this to Rod and see what he wants to do with it.” “Okay,” she said. My phone chimed, and I opened a text message from Cole with an image attached, and there he was—Scott “Uncle Scotty” Wilkins—just as I remembered him. He had light brown hair just past collar length, with a little bit of gray in the temples, and steely blue eyes that accented high, chiseled cheekbones. In the photo, he had a light tan, a big smile, showcasing perfect teeth, and a day or two of manicured stubble. He looked like a model, straight off a billboard. He was wearing a casual linen long-sleeved shirt with a sweater pretzeled over his shoulders in a way no one ever wore—just people who were posing for pictures. He wore jeans and unfinished leather loafers, no socks. The perfect, eligible rich guy online dating photo. “I just got his photo—sending it to you now,” I said. I forwarded the image to her and a moment later heard her phone beep. “Oh my god, he’s hot,” she said, giggling. “Is he single?” “Well, I don’t know, but he’s not available because he’s in jail in Singapore.” “He’s ridiculously good-looking. Gotta share this with the girls in the office.” “How about talking to Rod first?” I suggested, hoping to bring her back to earth. “Yeah, I’m on it.” “Thank you, Olivia.” I hung up and texted Cole that we were probably going to run an item with the photo, and I would stay in touch. I turned the basketball tournament back on, watching my Gators advance to the next round, not knowing I had just lit a most unusual fuse. *** Excerpt from The Pawn by John David. Copyright 2026 by John P David. Reproduced with permission from John P David. All rights reserved.
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About Author John David:
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John David is a long-time public relations and crisis communications consultant, author of a non-fiction business book, and a corporate ghostwriter. His debut novel, The Bystander (The Lemaster Files Book 1), was longlisted for the BPA First Novel Award, was awarded as a finalist for the 2025 Storytrade Book Award for traditional mysteries, and was named to the shortlist for the 2025 Page Turner Award for mysteries and cozy mysteries. It was released by Tule Publishing in September of 2025. Though not a big joiner, he is a member of the International Thriller Writers Debut Author program. When not working or writing, he enjoys fishing, talking about politics, and following the Florida Gators. He and his beautiful wife Pamela live in Pinecrest, Florida.
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Category: Adult Fiction, 272 pages Genre: Mystery, Suspense, Thriller Publisher: SparkPress Publication Date: October 2024 Content Rating:PG -13 rating for: There are no f-words but there is some violence (attempted murder) and some non-explicit references to sex, alcohol and recreational drugs.
Book Description:
Gone Girl’s twists, The Social Network‘s scheming, and Agatha Christie’s sleuthing come together in this suspenseful novel, a bingeworthy mystery set in Toronto that spans corporate intrigue, murder, and marital mismatch. Who would want to harm a well-liked CEO at the top of his game, and why? In the summer of 2021, Canadian tech entrepreneur Tom Oliver is considering selling his company to a Silicon Valley buyer when he becomes the target of an unknown perpetrator. As his friend and homicide detective Jason Liu investigates a web of secrets and deceit, Tom’s inner circle of family and colleagues comes under scrutiny.
Devious Web brings you into the world of business, US politics, social media, and family drama. If you were enthralled watching Suits and Succession, you’ll enjoy the high suspense, fast pace, and unexpected plot twists of this compelling novel.
Your book has a mix of mystery, business issues, US politics, family dynamics, and even horses. What did you draw on to create the story of Devious Web?
My career has spanned journalism and tech sector communications/public relations with a focus on writing about fiber optic communications. I have also owned horses for many years, so it’s likely no surprise that the main character in Devious Web is a software company CEO and an equestrian. A keen interest in US politics is also reflected in the book. Overall, I’m fascinated by mysteries and interpersonal relationships, so the twisty plot with compelling characters comes from a place of innate intrigue.
What was your biggest challenge when writing the novel?
I found it challenging to ensure that the action launched early in the book while simultaneously introducing characters to readers. The beginning chapters of the book were the most daunting to write, knowing that readers determine their interest level in a book quickly based on the opening scenes. I’m delighted when readers tell me that they like the way the action unfolds early on and that they like the pace of the book.
Who has been your toughest critic?
I confess that I’m my own toughest critic! When asked how long it took me to write the book, I answer truthfully that the first draft took about three months. But the self-editing process was ongoing for longer because I tend to be a perfectionist and appreciate the use of the right word or phrase at the right time.
You published with hybrid publisher SparkPress. Why did you accept an offer to publish with them?
The short answer is that I’m an older author with a shorter publishing runway than a ‘twenty-something’ and working with SparkPress enabled getting my book into the market faster. To land a publishing deal with a traditional publisher, authors first need to enlist the help of an agent which is time-consuming. At the other end of the spectrum is self-publishing which requires no editorial vetting, given anyone can self-publish. Independent presses and hybrid publishers provide a middle ground where editorial rigor is applied but authors can submit manuscripts directly without an agent. I submitted my manuscript to SparkPress due to their reputation of quality publishing and distribution partnership with Simon & Schuster.
After creating a series of compelling characters, do they seem real to you?
My goal with the characters was to make them authentic for readers and to do that, I visualized each of them in detail including their physical and personality traits. My characters are well defined in my mind to the extent that I can picture going for a business lunch with Tom and his investor Lawrence, having a glass of wine with Tom’s wife Miriam, or going gambling with bad boy Patrick. They certainly seem as large as life to me.
Have you had good feedback about your book cover and what inspired it?
Feedback on the book cover has been amazing! People love the black and red color combination and have commented that the graphic of a man about to walk into a boardroom is mysterious. The Toronto designer worked from my concept of a Mad Men graphic style, and she created the compelling design. I love the fact that there is an icon of the man on the spine of the book, and that the boardroom chair icons reappear on the back cover.
Are you planning to write a sequel to Devious Web?
Yes, I’m halfway through writing the sequel which will be set primarily in California as opposed to the main setting of Toronto in Devious Web. Some of the characters from the first novel crop up again in the second, including popular character Detective Jason Liu. Because I typically wear black and red at signing events to match the cover of Devious Web, I’m looking forward to a different cover design for book #2 featuring new colors so I can wear something different!
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Meet Author Shelley Grandy:
Shelley Grandy is a Canadian communications professional whose type-A personality and honors journalism degree from Ottawa’s Carleton University fueled a career that started in newspapers and progressed to twenty-five years at high-tech
company Nortel.
She subsequently founded Grandy Public Relations Inc. and has supported tech sector clients in Ontario and Quebec for the past sixteen years.
After writing countless press releases and technical articles for trade media, Devious
Web is Shelley’s debut fiction novel.
When not writing, Shelley enjoys intriguing Netflix-style productions and is known to frequently reference scenes from Grace and Frankie.
You can also find her at the boarding stable with her horse, Briosa. Shelley lives in Trenton, Ontario, Canada, with husband of thirty-plus years Roy, husky dog Luka, and cat Otto, within spoiling distance of her beautiful granddaughters, Emilia and Olivia Oulds.
Publication date: July 1st 2025
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Suspense, Thriller
What if everything you believed about yourself was totally wrong?
For David Byrdsong, life is a series of daily obligations. An attorney, he lacks both ambition and the ability to commit to a long-term relationship with his girlfriend, Gayle. Abandoned by his family at an airport when he was eleven, he learned to blunt his feelings, despite his subsequent adoption by a loving couple.
Until one day, when David discovers his own face in a missing child ad. Suddenly driven to uncover the truth about his past, he is forced to tap into his inner strength as he encounters corporate conspiracies, murdered bystanders, and distressing suspicions about the only family he’s ever really trusted. David enlists Gayle’s help—and the help of an unlikely stranger with secrets of his own—as he attempts to find his true family, whoever they are.
Thrilling, exploratory, and propulsive, Have You Seen Him is a story of lost identity, dangerous secrets, and a deeply personal pursuit of the truth.
David looked around his apartment for a chore, a task, something to keep himself from thinking about facing his coworkers the next day. It was a tall order; he was a minimalist, freakishly neat. Everything was “in its place.” Sifting through junk mail was the thing he resented the most, so David forced himself to do it as penance for his milquetoast behavior in court.
Even though he knew recycling was the right thing to do—for the melting polar ice caps, the coral reef, all that—he hated the monotony of sorting through everything. He suppressed the urge to chuck it all into the same bin. Trash, like pretty much everything else these days, was unnecessarily complicated. Who knew for sure if the carefully categorized items ever even made it to the place where things could be salvaged and revived and turned into handbags made of candy wrappers, seatbelts, and pull-tabs. A documentary he’d watched had uncovered the fact that in at least one town, and probably many others, every single throwaway went to the landfill, whether the bin was blue, black, or green.
But he felt guilty when he didn’t do it, and he had enough things to feel guilty about. The incident at work, his useless behavior. Not picking Gayle up from the airport. He’d wanted to see her, especially after the upsetting day. On the brief phone call before her flight took off, he’d promised to meet her at LAX. But he knew he’d conjure up a reason not to be there. Airports were overripe with too much—too many people, too much movement, too many unknowns.
He rifled through the papers and envelopes. Deals on mattresses, Lay-Z-Boy recliners, chimney cleaning, and towards the bottom of one of the leaflets, the words “¿Me Has Visto?” He had taken Spanish from the voluptuous Mrs. Boyette in 10th grade, so the translation was easy. “Have You Seen Me?”
The pictures accompanying the plea were obscured by something from the Red Cross. He crushed all of the pages into a pointy, misshapen ball, then felt shame for not even glancing at the photo of the poor lost child. He opened the bundle back up and laid the paper on the table, smoothing the crinkled paper with his hands.
David focused in on the ad and saw his own face gazing back at him. He shook his head as if to shake the foolishness out.
“What the—?” His eyes locked on the image. “This. Can’t be real.” He leaned
further in and squinted. The technology had somehow managed to match his exact shade of brown. Although the nose in the picture was a bit too narrow, it was close enough. David had a full, close-cropped beard; the man in the picture barely had a mustache. Regardless, it was him, in a “computer-generated image of subject at thirty-six years old,” as stated by the printed words below the man’s, well, his, picture.
What the hell?
The photo on the left was a picture he’d never actually seen, but it was how he remembered himself at eleven years old, refusing to smile for the goofy school photographer. “Wuss happnen,” the photographer had said as David approached the stool, centered in front of a faded blue background. David frowned. The only people who spoke like that were characters on the old reruns his parents watched. But the photographer had kind eyes. After the photo, David smiled and held out his hand as he exited the bandroom-turned-photo studio. “Gimme five,” he offered, the way he’d seen it done on TV. It made the man’s day; he’d slapped David’s hand with enthusiasm. David was glad he had done it, this grand gesture. The photographer was married to Mrs. Dalton, the hard-faced 3rd grade teacher. He deserved a break.
But David was at a new school, living with his new family, by the time the batch of photos were developed and sent home in cellophane envelopes with his classmates. He’d never seen the pictures.
Until now.
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About Author Kimberly Lee:
Kimberly Lee, JD, is a writer, workshop facilitator, and editor with a passion for nurturing the imaginative spirit and helping others reveal their creative gifts. She holds degrees from Stanford University and UC Davis School of Law. Kimberly lives in Southern California with her husband and three children.
(The Mystique Series, #2)
Publication date: October 15th 2025
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Psychological, Thriller
Something happened to Vaughan.
Those closest to her speak in half-truths and glances. One moment, she was walking among them—intuitive, brave, haunted. The next, she was part of something no one can explain. A fracture in time. A storm no one saw coming. Some believe she stumbled into it. Others believe she was always meant to be its center.
They say she inherited a crown, but no one saw it placed on her head.
They say she vanished during the final seal, but no one witnessed her fall.
And they say the darkness never stopped chasing her… even now.
There were signs. Whispers. Visions. A golden ticket that kept appearing in strange places. A man named Eli who stayed by her side long after others fled. And a mother who saw too much, too late.
Was it destiny? Madness? Or something that lives in the shadows between?
Royal Danger is a slow-burning psychological mystery thriller laced with horror, surreal visions, and eerie spiritual phenomena. It is a story about intuition, unraveling identity, and the thin, terrifying veil between love, legacy, and annihilation.
“Flower’s body trembled as she sat on the cold floor, each breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The weight of the guilt crushed her, and her mind swirled with memories of the warnings—the cryptic visions that had haunted her for so long. She had been entrusted with Vaughan’s safety, told over and over to protect her, but somehow, she had failed. It wasn’t just a warning; it was a responsibility—one she had let slip through her fingers.
Why didn’t I act sooner? The question echoed in her mind. Vivid images of Andres flashed through her thoughts: his smiling face, his trusting eyes, and the way he had died so suddenly, so violently. The sharp memory of his lifeless body still haunted her dreams. Could she have saved him? No, but the feeling of regret overwhelmed her.
Her heart ached with the familiar sting of loss, of failure. She frantically looked at her phone for any sign of Vaughan, but all she saw was the silent screen, the unanswered call. Her thoughts twisted, each one more unbearable than the last. What if this is it? What if it’s too late?
The shrill, agonizing cry that had erupted from[…]”
“ in ragged gasps as she tried to figure out how to break free. The cold, hard floor beneath her felt like it was closing in.
Then, she stumbled.
Her foot collided with something heavy, sending it crashing to the ground. The sound of metal clanging against stone resounded through the room, and as her eyes darted down, she saw it—a pan, ancient and worn, its surface etched with symbols that seemed to dance in the dim light.”
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About Author Avishai El:
Avishai El (1989-present) was birthed in Morocco to her mom who is Moor American. She grew up in Morocco. For 5 years she has been a Certified Raw Food Educator and Holistic Health Coach helping people with everything from weight loss to chronic illness. She has worked in hospitals getting babies off of respirators, helped cancer patients shrink their tumors holistically, and has traveled to receive an award for her tireless education on the healing benefits of essential oils.
Her first published book was “Earthly Desserts” which received 5-stars. She has since published self-help books, journals, and notebooks that support the health of her clients. She teaches professional and entrepreneurial women how to get rid of stress, drop the pounds, and create the life they deserve. She has provided published resource books on Amazon so they can do just that.
byStuart Heinrich Category: Adult Fiction (18 +), 474 pages Genre: Sci-fi, Mystery, Thriller, Scientific Publisher: Endless Tree Books, LLC Release date: July 31, 2025 Content Rating: PG-13. My book is rated PG-13 for some religious profanities, violence involving firearms, as well as mature themes such as global warming and ecological collapse.
Book Description:
The world is on the brink of an apocalyptic climate crisis and quickly spiraling out of control into a dystopian nightmare. As everything collapses around them, two scientists struggle for relevance in their quest to build the world’s first practical quantum computer. They discover so much more: a mystery of physics that goes deeper than they could have ever imagined…
Stuart Heinrich holds a PhD in computer science and a passionate interest in the fundamental nature of reality. The Quantum Revelations is his debut novel. connect with the author: website ~ goodreads
Book 1 
Book 2 
