Archive for the ‘Science Fiction’ Category

 

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Syndicate Moon organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Scott Killian will be awarding a $25 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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Syndicate Moon

Stellar Heir #2 

By Scott Killian

 

 

Genre: Science Fiction 

Synopsis

Jael and his crew are on the run, searching for an ancient machine that could save the galaxy, but the syndicate-controlled moon has other plans.

After uncovering an artifact that grants him extraordinary powers, Jael thought he had gained the upper hand in the lawless fringes of space. But news of his newfound abilities has spread throughout the galaxy, and a bounty is placed on his head for crimes he didn’t commit. New enemies emerge to claim the reward and old foes remain relentless in their pursuit of the artifact.

Jael is unwillingly thrust into a high-stakes game that determines control over the moon. The four crime syndicates use this brutal contest to decide who will rule, and now Jael’s fate is entangled with theirs.

Complicating matters further, a mysterious woman with a similar artifact stalks Jael across the moon, sabotaging his quest. With each step, the stakes rise, and every decision could mean life or death. Jael must fight to stay alive, protect his crew, and uncover the second Antiqui lock—before time runs out.

 

Enjoy this peek inside:

Black crystalline scales erupted from Jael’s skin as he threw himself in front of Merzi. The scales absorbed the impact of the slugs and heat of the beams, crystal shards crackling off with each hit.

“Whoa, whoa, hold your fire!” One of the members stepped forward —a younger man who showed obvious signs of being a human hybrid.

His skin had a subtle, iridescent sheen and bony protrusions framed his jawline. His eyes scanned Jael, one a piercing blue, the other a glowing amber. Unlike the others he was clad in a weathered leather vest with various alien ornaments dangling from his belt.

The man continued. “We’re here for Ked’Korhva, not the woman.”

“Who the void cares, Lorvel?” one of the others said. “Just waste the skwer so we can get our payday.”

Jael straightened, breathing heavily. His scales dissolved back into his flesh. “Since when do syndicates go into bounty hunting work?”

Lorvel stepped closer. “Since the price on your head hit six digits.”

“You’re really willing to die for a payday?” Jael asked, motioning for Merzi to retreat into the abandoned building.

“For that kind of money?” Lorvel grinned, raising one brow. “Absolutely.”

Jael stole a glance over his shoulder to make sure Merzi had taken cover inside. When he saw her get into position behind the broken window, he turned back towards Lorvel and the rest of the Legion lackeys.

Jael quickly raised his slug thrower, aiming for Lorvel, but a shot rang out. The gun was knocked from his grip, skidding across the walkway. He swore under his breath and cradled his stinging hand.

Lorvel had his weapon steadily trained on Jael. The two men locked eyes. Jael shook his hand, ignoring the throbbing pain and dropping into a fighting stance. The wound had already healed thanks to the Antiqui bracelet.

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About Author Scott Killian:

Scott Killian grew up in California where he consumed every bit of sci-fi, fantasy and horror media he could find. Delving deep into the works of Frank Herbert, Isaac Asimov, and H. P. Lovecraft, those portals in his mind were opened, and his obsession with reading began. Storytelling, in any form, is his only passion.

Inspired by epic sci-fi space operas, Killian crafts tales of interstellar adventure and space wars, blending thrilling martial arts combat with galactic-scale conflict. His works often feature gritty fight sequences and complex characters caught in the heart of a stellar conflict, creating a unique blend of space opera thriller and sci-fi epic.

Facebook / TikTok / Instagram / Twitter

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Free To Read On Kindle Unlimited : Amazon

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

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New Age Crime Thriller That Will Leave You Breathless From
Shock And Excitement!

‘Sci-fi and mystery readers shouldn’t miss this one!’

– Readers Favorite

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Persephone’s Pool

by Marie Montine

Genre: SciFi Crime Thriller

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“The settings
and the unusual killings make for compelling, often unexpected material…A
detailed, futuristic detective story that is anything but typical.” –
 Kirkus
Reviews

“A scrumptious mix of suspense,
mystery, and intrigue makes Persephone’s Pool a delightful treat that sci-fi
and crime lovers will relish.” – 
Pikasho Deka for Readers’
Favorite


Seven meets Lucy in this New Age Crime Thriller that takes
investigators to different crime scenes on multiple planets on a dangerous,
mythological game of cat and mouse!

A hundred years from now people can visit any planet in the solar system and
take a vacation.
Despite all of the technological advancements, a new craving emerges:
spirituality.
With the Age of Aquarius on the threshold, intergalactic murders involving
mythology begin.
And it’s up to two investigators to find out why.
But the further they get into their investigation, the more dangerous the game
becomes.


‘Author Marie
Montine repeatedly pulls the rug out from under your feet with a plot featuring
multiple twists and turns you never see coming. The reveals are unexpected and
shocking. What impressed me is how Montine provides each character with enough
urgency and distinct personality traits so that the reader is completely
invested in their story arcs. The setting feels believably futuristic, which
makes the story very immersive. You don’t know if your favorite characters will
make it out alive, and it keeps you on the edge of your seat. Sci-fi and
mystery readers shouldn’t miss this one!’ – Readers Favorite

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

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Chapter One

Nyx’s Tricks

Eloise’s stomach turned as she tried to gather her bearings in the darkness. She felt lost and disoriented. She reached out with her hands, but they felt light as air and failed to make contact with any walls.

In the distance, four lights broke through the blackness.

Did she drink so much alcohol that she was wasted, staggering through someone else’s hallway after a night of partying?

The lights turned into doorways, and loud laughter radiated from one of them. She moved closer to the door, which pulsed with happiness. The door opened. A five-year-old girl was chasing a bunny with long, messy hair.

It was Eloise’s pet, Muffin!

Without logic or reason, Eloise hurried through the door.

 

Eloise flew out of the chamber and nearly fell over onto a grated metal floor.

A group of technicians ran over to help steady her before moving her to a chair.

“Do you know who you are and where you are?” asked a scientist in a white spacesuit.

Eloise looked around the room. She was in a space station. Her astral projection had successfully latched onto a host in the form of a robotic body. But the rate of recovery and integrated hand-eye coordination was astounding; she raised her arm with no issue.

She shook her head, recalling what the technicians back on Earth at Asteria Applications—the company responsible for creating humanoid hosts—had said: For consciousness to find its destination in the void, the person needed to recall a vivid memory for the OBE traveler to clutch onto. When she had entered the door, she entered the host’s body.

And one of Eloise’s triggering memories was chasing her pet bunny, Muffin.

“I’m Eloise Mayer. I’m assisting PAAS—Pluto Alliance Armed Services—on a murder investigation.”

Eloise found it so strange to be somewhere else, hearing herself talk in a different voice, and being in a body that she could sense but not really feel. She didn’t have an itch, and she didn’t feel hot or cold. She didn’t feel hungry or full, heavy or light. She felt like she was in a VR game, her mind the controller.

After Eloise completed a cognitive assessment, a tall man walked into the room. He wore a black spacesuit with a purple insignia on his shoulder revealing he was with Pluto Forces, a team of soldiers who handled everything on Pluto from security to military.

He held out his hand. “Ahmed Ryker.”

Eloise willed her hand to extend to his in greeting. It was just like being in her own body except for the loss of touch.

“You’ve got a firm grip, Miss Mayer,” Ahmed said with a smile, his teeth white and pristine against his brown face.

“I’m just not used to this body yet,” she said, looking around the room for a technician. “Could I have a mirror, please?”

A scientist handed her one, and Eloise thanked her. She held up the purple-rimmed glass and saw someone else looking back at her. The automaton she inhabited—a green-blood, as they were commonly known—had dark hair and blue eyes, unlike her own red hair and green eyes. The skin’s texture was realistic; she wished she could touch it with her own hands to see how it really felt.

Another scientist walked into the small room with a man who looked like a blond Ken doll and who walked just as stiffly.

“Greetings from Mars,” the Ken doll said. “My name is Aiden Geth from the United Nations Interplanetary Council, Investigations—UNIC Investigations, for short.” He marched to Eloise as if his knees were locked. “You must be Eloise Mayer from Earth, uh, Sky …”

When his voice trailed away, Eloise finished for him. “From Sky Script Services, on Earth. I have a doctorate in astrological studies, including astrochemistry and astrophysics.”

Aiden’s robot didn’t respond or even make a move. Either his bot had malfunctioned, or he was processing what she had said. Normally it was the latter whenever she told someone her title; her country was the only one in the Western world that gave an astrologer that title, provided the student also studied astrophysics. It was not long ago that the two were one and the same.

“If you’re ready and oriented with your host, Mr. Geth, I would like to get to it,” Eloise said, letting one of the scientists help her into a lightweight black spacesuit which would allow her to blend in with the public and not arouse curiosity.

 

Eloise looked out of the window of the transport shuttle sliding down the cable as the shuttle plunged toward Pluto’s surface. She didn’t know how high up they were, but it was enough to make her feel nauseated. She worried she may lose connection to her host and awake in her own body, botching her first investigation.

Be in the here and now, her mind whispered, returning her full attention to her surroundings.

The planet’s surface was charcoal gray in some areas, red in others. Massive snow-topped mountains clawed ten thousand feet into the sky. The distant sunlight reminded her of an eclipse; long shadows stretched across the frozen, rocky terrain as if a bright moon cast its light transversely. What struck her as the most awe-inspiring was Charon, the massive moon in the sky. It was so large, she fretted it could fall any time and crush them all like a boulder on an anthill.

She looked at Aiden next to her, who grinned inside his black space mask.

Ahmed’s brows were furrowed as he looked down at his holotab.

“What’s so funny?” Eloise asked the Ken-bot.

“Just that a country girl from Canada is in a place like this. She is way out of her league.” Aiden gazed at her smugly. He took off his helmet and ran his hand through his synthetic hair.

“Oh, let me guess. You don’t appreciate your organization dumbing down to my level of expertise,” Eloise said with a sigh. “You know, with the global revolt against AI, that spirituality is on the rise again? You better get with the program.”

Aiden didn’t respond right away. “Just don’t get your panties in a bunch, Ellie, with what you’re going to see out there.”

“I don’t wear panties.” Eloise regretted saying it the moment it spilled out; she was more of a lady than that. She was glad her mechanical stand-in couldn’t blush. “And you can call me Dr. Mayer; only my friends call me Ellie.”

Her statement quieted Aiden. When she stole a glance at him, she was sure that his grin this time came from genuine amusement and respect.

Ahmed looked up at them both. “You two aren’t going to have a problem working together, right?”

“No, no, we’re fine,” Eloise said, turning her attention back to the window. She was a little angry and annoyed that this new partner of hers was taking away from her experience of such a remarkable planet. She had been informed that Pluto was for the rich and elite—thanks to the hefty price tag of one million U.S. credits — who really wanted to get away from it all. She looked down at the docking station as they approached, and at the massive domed city in the distance. Against the dark backdrop of the planet, the lights glowed within like an amusement park.

“How long does it actually take someone to travel here?” Eloise breathed, captivated by the planet.

“It takes five years, so for most, it’s their final destination,” Ahmed said. “For me, I’ll stay here until I retire. Ninety-nine percent of the population are red-bloods; the green-bloods are reserved for the ones who want to take a vacation here without actually coming here, or for top-secret missions like yours. But honestly, not many people know how to successfully connect their consciousness to an android host, so it’s not a popular way to travel. We have a host at our precinct, but I have never been able to use it successfully. Hell, I can’t even meditate.”

“Must have been a pretty penny to send us both up here,” Aiden said.

Ahmed nodded. “It was.”

“So, let’s not disappoint,” Eloise said.

The transport came to a smooth stop, and they put their helmets back on. The door slid open, and a security woman greeted them asking to check their IDs. Once they were verified, they followed Ahmed into a windowed tunnel that led to the first domed city.

“Welcome to Nix, where you can get your kicks, as the saying goes—but don’t quote me on that,” Ahmed said. “Go to the murder scene and don’t deviate from your destination, or we will immediately disengage you from your host.”

Eloise pictured her body in a capsule-like bed chamber where nothing could touch her or else her consciousness would automatically reconnect with her physical self.

“So we can’t get our kicks here,” Aiden said, feigning disappointment. “Not much of a tour guide, but I heard you’re one helluva star soldier.”

Ahmed gave the blond automaton a look Eloise couldn’t read.

They walked the gravel streets toward two-story buildings, the area reminding her of a modern, colorful Western world. They passed one museum shop showcasing black, eel-like creatures slithering in water tanks. Ahmed said that deep within Pluto, there were warm oceans full of life, and the eels were one of the natural species.

While Pluto’s fragile ground prevented the construction of tall buildings, the places—and even the people—appeared futuristic: Shops lured people in with colorful holographic posters and signs, and spacesuits glowed with LED lights. Visitors had to wear spacesuits while they ventured in the domes; while the domes provided some barrier from the planet’s radiation, it wasn’t 100%. The suits displayed the health status of the person wearing it—as well as the suit itself—with electroluminescent backlighting. She could only imagine what the radiation would do to a person should the dome or suits fail. But apparently, some people thrived on living on the edge, another reason for a well-off person who already had it all wanting to move here.

Aiden was watching her. “The surface can cave in at any time and crumble like an eggshell if this planet gets close enough to the sun.”

“That will be in about 245 years,” Eloise said, glancing at him. “Maybe we’ll come up with something by then. I’d be more worried about the radiation risk this planet poses.”

Aiden studied her but remained silent.

They walked up the stairs of a two-story building, the corridor blocked by digital police tape. Ahmed used his holotab to disengage the digital holography signage. He swiped the electronic door lock with his wristband, and they entered the apartment.

“You two are lucky you can’t smell this place,” the soldier said, putting a clear mask over his nose. “Follow me this way.”

They walked to the last room. When they entered, it became clear why she was asked to be included on this investigation.

On the floor rested Trevor Ikeda, blood pooled around him. The slender, dark-haired Japanese man in his forties had deep cuts on both his stomach and forehead, the latter more of a puncture.

Eloise cried out and jumped back, right into Aiden’s arms. He smiled self-indulgently as he looked down at her, one hand around her waist, his other hand on her hips. She straightened herself and studied the room, moving as far away from him as the room allowed.

“I gather this is your first time seeing a deceased person,” Ahmed said.

Eloise nodded, stealing a glance at Aiden, whose gaze lingered on her.

“Then I apologize on behalf of PAAS, for our misinformation,” the Indian soldier said. “We should’ve had the body removed before your arrival and given you images to work with instead.”

“Thank you,” Eloise said. “I appreciate your concern. I’m fine now.”

She wasn’t fine. She needed a minute to collect herself, so she moved about the room, wondering if she should run out or even disengage from her synthetic host. All she had to do was press a button on the humanoid’s forearm, which would activate physical stimulation on her real body and bring her back instantaneously; the soul had an easier time returning to its physical body than it did leaving it.

Be a professional, she chastised herself. She breathed deeply, pretending to look over various objects. She reached into her pocket for her meds and stopped herself, remembering she was in a synth body.

When her panic attack subsided, she focused on what was in front of her.

On a desk was a staff, a warrior’s helm, and a small handmade chariot. On the wall hung a pitchfork, as well as paintings of three dogs. All on its own on another wall, was a portrait of a beautiful woman with long brown hair and purple eyes, with green just around the pupils. Directly across from this painting, on the opposite wall, was a startling image of a woman with snakes for hair.

What did the star Algol have to do with the rest of the room? She wondered, turning away from the image that was nothing short of disturbing.

“This place is rife with mythology,” she said, glancing at her partner. “And you’re bothered by my background?”

“How so?” Aiden asked.

“The victim,” Eloise began, “turned this room into one of devotion. He worshipped the god of the underworld. The objects on the table represent the things he used, and the objects on the wall represent the things he adored. The mat on the floor was where he meditated. He was so obsessed with the god of the underworld that he even came here, to the god’s planet, Pluto.”

Ahmed finished tapping on his holotab before he asked, “Does this room reveal why he did this to the victim?”

Eloise kneeled and looked at the wounds; she exhaled a shaky breath. The victim was wearing a black onyx necklace.

It suddenly became clear.

“He wasn’t meditating to the planet,” Eloise breathed. “He was siphoning from it, absorbing it, and someone interrupted him.”

“What do you mean by absorbing the planet?” Aiden asked.

“Everything in our universe comprises matter and energy. Each planet has its own unique signature. This man was inhaling the essence of this planet and feeding it into his own energy.” She pointed to his abdomen. “See the wound on the lower belly? That’s the sacral chakra, an area of energy ruled by two planets, one of them being Pluto.”

The men looked at each other in silence.

Ahmed’s holotab lit up, and he skimmed over the message. “The UNIC’s investigations department wants to have you instated as a full-time associate, meaning as an assisting civilian.”

Eloise’s mouth dropped open. “Full time? Is this not an isolated incident?”

Ahmed moved closer to Eloise, holding the small, flat electronic device level. A hologram of an aging woman in a gray suit with a slicked-back ponytail emerged from the holotab.

“No, Ms. Mayer, we don’t believe it is,” Chancellor Winnifred North of the Intergalactic Colonies Committee said. “Your partner’s murder proves this is only the beginning.”

Eloise looked at Aiden. “What? But …”

Aiden’s automaton stood with his head lowered, as if he had fallen asleep standing.

“Somebody just killed him? Now?” Eloise’s voice rose. They weren’t particularly getting along, but she didn’t wish him dead, either.

Was she next?

Ahmed put the holotab on the table and reached for his gun. He then stepped in front of Eloise, pointing the gun at the door.

Eloise sensed a presence nearby, but there was no one else in the room.

“No, Ms. Mayer, that wasn’t him,” the chancellor said from the holotab. “Someone killed your partner five hours ago. The person using Aiden’s synth may have been the killer himself.”

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Describe your writing style.

My writing style is fast-paced, placing extraordinary people in extraordinary situations.

 

What makes a good story?

I believe if a story can move you mentally or emotionally – and sticks with you – then that’s a good story. If a story can do both, then that’s fantastic.

 

What is your writing process? For instance do you do an outline first? Do you do the chapters first?

I think I have the strangest writing process. I never have an outline, and I never write in order. I write what comes out first. Persephone’s Pool was the first book where I wrote the first chapter first. After that, I wrote out of order, then put it back together and fine-tuned it from beginning to end.

 

What are common traps for aspiring writers?

Giving up on writing, falling for expensive vanity presses, and writing for market (write with your own style and voice!)

 

What is your writing Kryptonite?

Being hungover, lol. I enjoy a good glass of wine, but when I over-do it on occasion, I cannot write the next day.

 

Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

I honestly just write what comes to me, and I love the fact that many readers have said my writing and my ideas are groundbreaking and unique!

 

If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be?

That I should’ve pursued an agent when I was younger, or when eBook publishing first boomed as an indie author.

 

What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters from the opposite sex?

This is a great question because I’ve always wondered if I’m writing my male characters accurately, like do men think this way, etc. But I truly believe I’m channeling something when I write male characters because I really don’t know where they are coming from lol.

 

How long on average does it take you to write a book?

Writing books is a long process for me. Just to write a book between 50 – 80k words takes about a year.

 

Do you believe in writer’s block?

This is an interesting question because all of my life, I’ve never experienced this. It wasn’t up until a couple of years ago when I did. I believe it was due to extreme stress. My creativity was completely dried up and I said to my husband, wow I think I’m done writing. Then, a few months later, I sat down one night and wrote the first chapter of Persephone’s Pool in one shot. The tap had opened, and it just poured out of me like a dam breaking and releasing a flood. I wrote the whole the story over the course of the next several weeks like I was possessed.

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Marie Montine’s
work includes paranormal horror, supernatural sci-fi, and dark fantasy. But
there’s always one major theme in her stories: the power of love.

Many readers and
reviewers have claimed Marie Montine is an author to watch for.

Red River won an
award for best romantic suspense with ChickLit Cafe.

She recently
finished writing Persephone’s Pool, an intergalactic crime thriller released on
April 8, 2025.

The author is also
a level one student with CAAE and you can find her love of astrology woven into
stories like Midnight on Mars and Persephone’s Pool.

Marie lives and
works in northern Canada with her husband and poet, Alvin J Beck, and their
dogs, Luna and Mya. When she is not working or writing, she enjoys gaming and
getting cozied up with her husband and dogs watching movies or tv series.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $30 giveaway!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

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I am so excited that CHILDREN OF SOLO by Andrew D.H. Moore is available now
and that I get to share the news!

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If you haven’t yet heard about this
wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below.

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This blitz also includes a giveaway
for a $10 Amazon Gift Card courtesy of
Rockstar Book Tours and
a finished copy of the book courtesy of Andrew. So if you’d like a chance to win,
check out the giveaway info below.

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Title: CHILDREN OF SOLO

Author: Andrew D.H. Moore

 

 

Pub. Date: April 18, 2025

Publisher: World System Books, LLC

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 722

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Find it: Goodreadshttps://books2read.com/CHILDREN-OF-SOLO

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Buy direct from Andrew! https://books.by/adhmoore 

 

The God of
Creation is missing, but pirate captain Adi Crestone has more immediate
problems. Caught between her criminal past and her maternal instincts, she
struggles to protect
her son from the Blood Queen. Buffeted by inner demons and external foes, she
must decide
what she is willing to sacrifice for freedom and family, all while navigating
treacherous alliances
that force her to confront her own past.

Theo Vanguard is an Imperial naval officer entangled in familial duty and
political
machinations. Trapped between his personal desires and his noble father’s
expectations, he is
captured by pirates and descends into the seedy underbelly of the city of
Solvigant. Where he
reveals a world of survival and sacrifice.

Dreams of adventure beyond the mundane inspire young Ion Rucinare to run away
from
home, only to find himself thrust into a perilous quest that could alter the
fate of the World
System. His yearning for acceptance and belonging is complicated as he grapples
with newfound
magical abilities and the harsh realities of life on the dying moon Xys.

Caught between the Empire, ruthless gang leaders, and enigmatic gods all vying
for
power, Adi, Theo, and Ion’s paths converge in a high-stakes search for a
powerful artifact,
Apyreon, which grants the wielder the very power of the gods themselves. Will
each find their
place in a universe teetering on the brink of chaos?

 

Enjoy this peek inside:

“She wants me to acquire an artifact.” Adi paused and considered how far she wanted to go
with the truth. She didn’t want to put Xander in too untenable a position, nor
did she want to engage his instinct toward heroism at the gravity of her task.

“Where is it?”

“It’s here in Solvigant. Stuart Royal has it.”

“The leader of the White Rabbits?”

“The one and only.”

“No mean feat. Royal and his goons are well protected in the Warrens. I understand the
city watch has little presence there.”

You have no idea, Adi thought.

“What does she want with the artifact? What is it?”

“No idea,” Adi lied, “The Blood Queen does not share her plans with low level indentures.”

“I suppose you need money?”

Adi nodded.

“Of course you do.” He sighed and his defensive bulwarks returned. “If only you’d asked
for help before letting Ajax clamp that hideous thing around your neck, then we
wouldn’t be in this mess.”

We? Adi started to say it aloud but stopped. He was entangled in her mistakes. “Despite your ideas to the contrary, I have some pride.” Xander held up his hands in surrender. Adi pressed on,
though it hurt her to say it. “I know how much you’ve sacrificed for me, and if
we weren’t worried over Lucas’s safety I wouldn’t ask now.”

She hoped Xander couldn’t detect her lies. She really needed money to locate Apyreon.
There would be bribes to pay, gear to assemble, and, gods, she needed a stiff
drink. Her mind strayed back to Stella’s Echo and Iris’s pallet.

“Do you really think Sasha Riven will let you go when she holds so much power over
you?” Xander asked.

“What choice do I have?”

Xander sighed. His shoulders slumped. “How much do you need?”

“One hundred gold spyres ought to do it.”

His eyes widened. It wasn’t a huge sum, but it wasn’t a small one either.

“Finding a magical astrolabe in a corrupt city of millions isn’t cheap,” Adi said, “And
I’ve lost all my gear.”

Xander shook his head. “There is another way around all this.”

“No, Xan, we’ve been over this. We’re not betrothed anymore.” Adi adjusted her collar,
which suddenly chafed.

 

About Author Andrew D.H. Moore:

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Andrew Moore
lives in the suburbs of Denver, Colorado. He is an avid writer of stories and
rider of bikes. Andrew’s love of fantasy blossomed early when he fell in love
with such books as Redwall by Brian Jacques and the Dragonlance Chronicles by
Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman. He graduated with honors from Indiana
University with undergraduate degrees in Philosophy and Classical Literature.
He completed a post-baccalaureate at the University of Pennsylvania before
obtaining his Master’s in Classical Archaeology from CU Boulder. He worked as
an archaeologist and scholar in Germany, Greece, Turkey, and Jordan. In
Colorado, Andrew taught philosophy, history, and literature at Rocky Mountain
College of Art and Design, before leaving formal academia to pursue a passion
in brewing beer. His brewery brainchild, The Intrepid Sojourner Beer Project,
closed during the Covid-19 pandemic, but not before winning many awards both
domestic and international.

Subscribe to  Andrew’s newsletter!

Website | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon

 

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Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning

by Reign Reeves Pearson

 

(Poseidon’s Daughters, #1)
Publication date: March 21st 2025
Genres: Adult, Science Fiction, Thriller

They trained her to be a weapon. Now, she’s turning the blade on them.Eirianwen was Poseidon’s crowning achievement—until she walked away from everything. She’s evaded them for years, carving out a life in the shadows, leaving behind the bloodstained world they forced her into. Now, the past she’s been running from has finally caught up. A storm-wracked night. A breach in her sanctuary. Someone is watching. Someone is waiting. And this time, they don’t just want her dead—they want her to doubt herself. They want the world to believe she’s lost her mind.

They’ve been watching her. Manipulating her. Preparing for her downfall.

Now, the elite organization that built her is coming to collect. Not to kill—to control. They don’t need to break her. They just need to make sure no one believes her when she starts screaming.They want her to understand that her escape, her freedom, was all an illusion.

Erased. Discredited. Untouchable.

But Eirianwen has spent her whole life surviving. And when the walls start closing in, she doesn’t run. She hunts.

Poseidon wants her desperate. Unraveling. Helpless.

They’re about to learn just how dangerous she can be.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

Eirianwen ripped out the earpiece and slammed it onto the desk. Panic swirled at the edges of her mind, but she forced it down. Now wasn’t the time. She grabbed a larger bag from under the desk, slung it over her shoulder, and stormed out. In the closet, she set the bag aside, pressing a hidden panel on the side of her bed. A drawer slid open, revealing her arsenal. Her hands shook as she armed herself, snapping a knife into its sheath and loading a handgun with quick, practiced movements. Now, to find them. Moving swiftly, she ran through the house, slipping out the back door and straight into the storm-charged air. Sullivan’s workshop. If she was going to do this right, she’d need a shovel. She yanked open the heavy wooden door, eyes darting over the mess inside.Where the fuck is it? Why is this place always such a goddamn disaster?

A glint of metal under the workbench caught her eye. She crouched, snatched up a spade, and bolted back outside. The rain had started in earnest, cold drops slicing through the thick humidity. She sprinted to where the trackers last pinged, her boots sinking slightly into the softening earth, almost tripping thanks to a low spot. Looking back at the spot, it was all wrong. She knew something was buried there.

Gripping the shovel tightly, she drove it into the ground. The soil gave easily…far too easily. The clay should have been a nightmare to dig through. Someone had already done the work for her. Within moments, her blade hit something solid, and dread curled in her stomach. She dropped to her knees, clawing at the loose earth with bare hands until the objects were free. Her breath hitched. Six trackers. All of them. Cold, useless, and buried like a mockery of her own paranoia. Eirianwen sat back on her heels, mud caking her fingers as she stared at the pile in her hands. Someone knew.

Her cheeks burned hot, but the rest of her body felt frozen. Tears welled, spilling silently down her face as the questions flooded in. Why? Why would Sullivan do this? Had he done this? He wouldn’t put the kids in danger—would he? Where were they? How long had he planned this? Her stomach twisted. Then, her phone buzzed—a single notification. Hands trembling, she wiped her palms on her pants and yanked it from her pocket. Wi-Fi restored—a new alert. Someone had just crossed the perimeter.

“It better be Sullivan and the kids.”

Eirianwen exhaled sharply, swiping at the sweat and tears streaking her face. Standing, she brushed the dirt from her clothes as best she could, shoving the useless trackers deep into her pocket. She locked her phone and steadied herself. If the kids were with Sullivan, she needed to stay calm. Normal. They couldn’t see the weapons strapped under her clothing. At least the incoming storm gave her an excuse to rush them inside. She’d get them safe first—then she’d deal with Sullivan. She turned toward the tree line, heart pounding in her throat. The property was massive, and she had built the house at its farthest edge. Finally, headlights cut through the gloom. A vehicle emerged. Not Sullivan’s truck. A cold, electric jolt shot down her spine. Every instinct screamed at her.

No one came out here. No one. She had made sure of it. For years, she had meticulously crafted the illusion of a perfectly ordinary life. She knew everyone in town—just enough to avoid suspicion, but never enough to invite curiosity. A delicate balance of friendly but distant. She never gave anyone a reason to visit. She didn’t even use their real address! She picked up all of their mail and deliveries in town. So who the hell thought they had the right to pull up to her house? The SUV slowed to a stop, tires crunching against the gravel. The doors swung open in near unison, and two men stepped out. Sheriff Ford. Deputy Pines. Ford adjusted his jacket, his gaze steady, unreadable. Pines lingered a step behind, eyes sharp, scanning. Ford closed the gap between them and gave Eirianwen a curt nod.

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About Author Reign Reeves Pearson:

Reign Reeves Pearson is a writer, storyteller, and chaos enthusiast based in Houston, where she lives with her husband, four kids, and three cats who may or may not be plotting world domination. She thrives on Kopiko, rainy days, and an endless love for Final Fantasy VII and Dungeons & Dragons.

She’s been writing for as long as she can remember. But in 2019, a health scare forced her to take a hard look at her life, and the answer was clear: writing wasn’t just something she did. It was what she was meant to do.

Her debut novel and series, Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning, is her first and only planned adventure into sci-fi. Going forward, expect Southern Gothic chills, cosmic nightmares, and nostalgic ‘90s horror—all infused with her signature mix of heart, humor, and a touch of the macabre.

When she’s not writing, she’s probably dreaming up elaborate D&D campaigns, getting emotionally wrecked by Final Fantasy VII (again), or staring dramatically out a window while it rains.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram

 

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Touch of the Elegrian

by Cheryl A. Arko

 

Publication date: March 25th 2025
Genres: Adult, Science Fiction

Prejudice. Legacy. Redemption.

Erys carries a secret that could shatter his world. The telepathic Elegrian has spent his life atoning for his dead father’s role in humanity’s disastrous first contact. Now, as a tech specialist for the Earth-led alliance, he serves in silence—until sabotage threatens the lives of dozens of human children. And the traitor is one of his own.

Forced to work with a brilliant but hostile human engineer, Erys must dismantle not only the deadly conspiracy but also the deep-seated mistrust between their peoples. With time running out, he faces an impossible choice: break the fragile Elegrian-Human treaty and invite the death penalty to forge a forbidden mind link with a human… or let innocent lives be lost.

Two worlds on the brink. A single act of defiance. Can compassion rewrite a doomed future?

The Elegrian Legacy begins here—a gripping sci-fi adventure rich in high-stakes dilemmas, deep character bonds, and first-contact intrigue.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Erys stood in the hospital room’s doorway, every muscle rigid. He’d arrived early, expecting to slip in quietly to take the system readings while the child slept. But, silent and alone, the sick little girl watched him from the bed with shimmering eyes. Purple bruises mottled her face. A red line ran a jagged path from her delicate nose to her dry lips. The stark-white sheet quivered as her small body trembled.

His throat tightened. Maybe he should come back later. It’d be much better for the child to remain unaware of his presence. It’d be better for him too. Not having to deal with the staring or the questions about who he was. Or the judgment.

But no. His job here—this job—should be routine. Easy. At least as easy as anything could be that brought an Elegrian to the foundation colony of the human Alliance on Loridan. Regardless, there was nothing ordinary about the suffering before him. He straightened his uniform jacket and crossed the threshold.

Zhaaaaa…” He crooned words of comfort in the ancient language of his own people. It didn’t matter that the child was human and he was not—the melody of solace was universal. Besides, he should look human enough to the youngster. The one protein distinguishing his physiology from human was not outwardly visible. The only alien race either Elegrians or humans had encountered was each other, and in appearance they could be next-door neighbors.

The child’s shaking calmed. Her warm response encouraged him.

Brisk steps brought him to the girl’s bedside. Hidden under the covers, the bio-bed’s myriad sensors recorded enough infinitesimal measurements to enable Loridan’s treatment system to cure nearly any affliction. Or would have, if the complex network had not been broken. Loridan’s human techs could not figure out how to regenerate the Intelligent Data which gave the system its power. That was why he was here. Convoluted data issues—living data issues—were his specialty.

He crouched, pulled a sterile wipe from the dispenser, and gently cleaned the blood from the child’s face. “There. Better?” He pronounced the words carefully. The harder he tried, the more the liquid trill of his accent became exaggerated. He hoped she understood him.

Her eyes widened at the sound of his voice. “Are you a doctor?”

She spoke in a whisper, but her plea pinged loud and clear on his psychic senses. “No, shimwa.” He searched his memory for the translation. “Little one.” Deliberately, he relaxed his expression. “I’m here to help your doctors. To repair their equipment, so they can help you get better.” He reached out a finger to dab the wetness from her cheeks.

Her eyes followed his hand, and she stared at his uniform sleeve. At the insignia displayed prominently along with those of rank and division. He recognized the shadow of understanding that darkened her expression. He’d seen it before.

She recoiled, and a sob shook her frail form.

He had no words in any language to relieve this fear.

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About Author Cheryl A. Arko:

CHERYL ARKO is a science fiction author and an accomplished senior data scientist with a long career in IT and medical data analysis. She has loved reading science fiction ever since she could connect letters into words, devouring everything from Andre Norton to E.E. “Doc” Smith to more and more authors through the years who have shared their thought-provoking ideas of imagined places and alternate realities.

TOUCH OF THE ELEGRIAN is Cheryl’s debut novel and was a Killer Nashville Claymore Award Finalist for best Science Fiction/Fantasy. She writes stories that take her to the stars, imagining who we might find out there, inviting readers to come along for the ride to visit new worlds and their people. To explore what makes us different—and what makes us the same. And to discover the inherent good that exists in the universe to balance against darkness, no matter how far we travel.

A seasoned dog trainer, Cheryl lives with her beloved Airedales in a tiny house nestled within thirty acres of serene Minnesota pine trees.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

 

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Welcome to my stop in the virtual book tour for Optimizer Of Souls organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Julian Christian will be awarding a $25 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.

Optimizer Of Souls

By Julian Christian

 

 

Genre: Science Fiction

Synopsis

When her mentor Professor Williams disappears after discovering a fatal flaw in SENTINEL’s perfect system, Maya must navigate a world where every thought is monitored and every emotion optimized. With help from James Reed, a damaged neural interface designer haunted by helping create humanity’s perfect prison, she uncovers evidence that could shatter SENTINEL’s control – if they survive long enough to use it.But in a city where surveillance drones hunt for behavioral anomalies and optimization protocols spread through quantum networks, Maya confronts a terrifying possibility: what if perfect control isn’t their enemy? What if human consciousness is evolving into something beyond both chaos and control?

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

Through her pain, Maya watches optimization protocols flow through the crowd like invisible rivers. She sees how each person’s neural implants respond to corporate commands, adjusting thoughts and feelings to maintain perfect social harmony. The amount of control happening around her is overwhelming – too much for even her enhanced systems to process clearly.

Her military tech usually filters all this information, making it manageable for her human brain to understand. But with so many optimized minds in one place, all following Sentinel’s perfect patterns, the filters are failing. Raw data crashes against her consciousness like waves against a beach, each new surge bringing more pain.

The migraine builds as her enhanced vision tries to show her everything at once – the neural patterns of thousands of workers, the hidden messages in corporate announcements, the subtle signs of Sentinel’s control woven through every surface and signal. It’s like having super-powerful eyes that can’t close, forced to watch every detail of how thoroughly humanity has been optimized.

~~~~~

About Author Julian Christian:

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Julian Christian grew up in New York City, attending the prestigious Brooklyn Technical High School specializing in computer science. After graduation he attended New York University where he earned a Master’s Degree in occupational therapy. Julian worked in the New York City public schools as an occupational therapist. His lifelong passion for fitness and health led him into the modeling industry where he appeared on several fitness magazine covers and spreads including Men’s Health magazine. He also appeared in advertisements for Saks 5th Avenue, Adidas, and Diesel. In addition to his modeling work he appeared in several tv shows including Ugly Betty on ABC and Tough Love on VH1, as well as several commercials. The big screen had him featured in several mainstream and indie films in supporting roles. Julian had also had  the romance novel industry calling his name as he has been featured on the cover of over one hundred romance novels. His lifelong passion for books has extended beyond just appearing on book covers as he is an avid reader of both fiction and non-fiction books. He is a classic sci-fi and alternate history fan. In the non-fiction realm he enjoys biographies and books on science and technology.  He is a lover of the outdoors and nature. He currently resides in San Diego California where he is an avid bodyboarder and hiker.

 

Author Links: Facebook

Purchase Link: Amazon

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Power comes with a price.

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Overlord

The Price of Talent Book 4

by AK Nevermore

Genre: Spicy Dystopian SciFi Romance

 

 
 

On an alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of
the population. Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical
mutations, giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining
genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent upon the
exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting them…

Chaos rules the city of Glynfyls.

And all Flynn Scot can do is watch. With the hill frozen in
the shadow of the coming Incursion, and the commons giving into a bacchanal
madness, the city’s chances of survival are dire. His hands tied by mandates,
in order to do what he knows is right and give them a fighting chance, Flynn
will have to risk everything by doing wrong.

Meanwhile, Kara can’t hide her declining health.

The Triam’s location remains elusive, and the window to get
the treatment she needs is closing. Unwilling to give in, or idly await her
fate, she hatches a daring plan to help save the city, even if it ends up
destroying her politically.

Because Titus’s army is marching closer to Glynfyls, and
they’re not alone.

With them comes a monster that threatens not only the city,
but the entire Breaker hierarchy. As the world watches on tenterhooks, Flynn
and Kara race against the clock to save their people, but there’s no guarantee
they can save themselves.

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Flynn’s bedroom door slammed open and the lights flicked on.

“Get up.”

The hell? He blinked, lifting his aching head to glare at Rogan. Man looked even more beat to shit now that the bruising from their fight had set in. One side of his jaw was twice the size it should be, and he didn’t look any happier to be standing there than Flynn was to see him.

“Fuck off,” he growled, his arms tightening around Kara. She murmured in her sleep, a “V” pinching between her brows as she snuggled against his chest.

Rogan laughed. “Wish I could, kid, but Titus’s troops are crossing the border, the city’s burning down again, cattle are running riot through the streets—” He swiped up a pair of pants from the floor and chucked them at Flynn. “—and we’re on fire brigade.”

Goddamn it.

“Are you serious?” he hissed, catching them as he pushed up to sit.

Kara huffed and curled into a little ball, out cold despite the asshole’s bullshit. Flynn frowned, but wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t slept at all the night after succumbing, and he damned well knew the toll of unmaking the damage Otto had done to her bitch mother was more than Kara was letting on.

Rogan’s gaze dropped to her bared shoulder and slid down her back to the blankets pooling around her hips. His tongue flicked over his lip. “Think I’d be in here otherwise?”

Flynn growled, ripping a blanket up to cover her. If that motherfucker even thought about—goddamn it. Man had just handed Flynn his own ass in front of the entire Breaker line. If Rogan, the Alpha fucking Prime, wanted to challenge for her, he’d win, and they both knew it.

So did the thing growling in the recesses of Flynn’s psyche, its hackles raised. Wasn’t conducive to him being in a particularly cooperative mood.

He slung his legs over the side of the mattress, talent crackling around his fingers. Goddamn it. That didn’t help either. He snuffed the sparks in his fists and pulled on his pants. Fabric was still sticky with gore. What time was it? His eyes found the clock as he zipped up. A little after two in the morning. Didn’t this fucking city sleep? “When did Titus cross the border?”

“Vanguard’s a couple hundred miles in and moving fast,” Rogan said as he reached down to scritch behind Hiss’s ears. Stupid cat let him. “Stonefist called Quorum. I was on my way to wake your ass up for that when the fire broke out. Shit’s officially hit the fan.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” Flynn grabbed a shirt and kicked into his boots, still glowering at Rogan. Asshole shot another look at Kara before he flashed that goddamned grin and backed from the room. Flynn killed the lights and just stopped himself from slamming the door shut. God, he hated that prick.

“What the hell are they rioting about now?” he asked, smacking the button for the lift.

Rogan shrugged and stepped in. “They’re throwing one hell of a party on the lower rungs, but this ain’t that, far as I can tell. Heard somebody say a cow kicked over a lantern, and it’s Chicago all over again.”

“Chicago?” Flynn asked, hitting the button for the main floor.

The Breaker rolled his eyes. “You know, big fire, O’Leary’s—never mind. All you need to worry about is it putting it out.” He pushed past him as the lift door opened and stalked toward the gate.

Flynn’s temper spiked and his talent sparked with it. “Me? How am I supposed to—” He stopped to scuff out a patch of smoldering carpet. Christ, that was getting old.

“Right there all the time, isn’t it?”

Flynn scowled. “Yeah. Weren’t you gonna do something about that?” Talent flared around his fingers again, and he swore.

Rogan sighed, glancing at the gate. “Right. How do you control your Shade ability?”

Was he an idiot? “Control my—I don’t. It’s not like—I gotta pull it to use it. They call it cloaking for a reason. It’s like gathering—whatever, it doesn’t matter. I asked about this Breaker shit.”

“Everything matters. Nothing’s important.”

“Did you just quote Nietzsche?”

Breaker cocked an eyebrow. “Did you just call me out for quoting Nietzsche?”

“Christ, you’re a dick.”

“You should talk. Look, in case you haven’t figured it out, Breaker talent isn’t static. It’s tied to your emotions, just like bloodlust. The fact that you’re as moody as a teenaged girl doesn’t help.”

Flynn glared at the man, his teeth gritting together at another flare of talent. “Then what do you suggest?”

“You know anything about physics?” Flynn’s eyes narrowed, and Rogan sighed. “Look, I’m not any more thrilled about this arrangement than you are, so let’s do it and have done. Easiest way for me to explain it is to equate Breaker talent to Ohm’s law—”

“Ionic flow. Got it. Energy is dissipated as heat. Then what?”

Rogan’s brow raised. “Then you reach equilibrium by dissipating it, maintaining the state by breathing the potential out, and letting talent cycle through you,” the Breaker said. “You don’t let it build until you need it.”

“How the hell do I do that?”

Rogan made a come hither motion. “Watch and learn.”

They stepped through the gate and into hell. Flynn wiped his brow, his skin abruptly too tight. Smoke seared down his throat and hung thick in the air, stinging his eyes and occluding the morass of standing water and hard baked sludge coating the street. The haze softened the edges of the blaze as a line of Fixers fought to keep it in stasis, while every Fetch able to shift an oxygen molecule battled to snuff the flames. Their crimson blue flicker and the silver and bronze glow of talent warred, filling the streets with an unearthly glow. Within the thin shell of talent, booms shook the ground. A rain of smoldering debris peppered the street, and a fucking cow ran by.

Rogan held out a hand to him, and Flynn scowled. “Thanks, Gramps, but I promise I’m big enough not to get lost.”

“Asshole. I want you to feel how I channel the fire’s potential.”

“I gotta hold your hand to do it?”

“I can put my foot up your ass if you’d prefer.”

Flynn eyed the man’s outstretched hand. Something big exploded, accompanied by a whomp of flame

“Take your time. Not like there’s any reason to hurry.”

Flynn glared at him and slapped his palm across Rogan’s. The Breaker’s halos flared and talent welled, crackling between them. Instead of something blowing up, it was a steady draw. The raging flames shuddered in response, dying back, and the ground beneath them hummed with a weird vibration. What the hell?

“Feel that?”

“Yeah, what’re you doing?”

Whatever it was, wasn’t easy. Sweat poured from the Breaker, and it wasn’t from the ungodly temperature. His halos bathed everything within a fifty-foot radius a gruesome scarlet. “Acting as a ground,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Like it’s electricity?”

“Yeah. Same principle, and you keep shorting.” He snorted at Flynn’s scowl. “Instead of letting the energy flow to heat, I’m converting the fire’s potential and acting as a conduit, redirecting it out and away. Try reaching for it. If you can call it, you can snuff it, and I could use the help. There’s some kind of accelerant in there—” The ground shook with another series of explosions and hot concrete rained down around them.

Fuck that. Flynn threw up a shield. He pushed it out and away, reinforcing the Fixer’s line. They slumped against one another as he took up the burden, the power of the battering flames sending him back a step. Christ. Yeah, there sure as hell was some kind of accelerant in there. Shit was burning like it was jet fuel. He wiped a hand across his brow, dizzy with the heat.

“Wrong talent, asshole,” Rogan gritted out.

Flynn scowled at him, trying to focus. Reach for the fire…how the fuck was he supposed to…he eased his shield and the sense of it hit him square in the chest. Flynn grunted, stumbling back again.

“Yeah, no shit. Now let it flow through you and ground it out.”

Flynn took a shaky breath; the intensity of that potential Rogan had been talking about was crushing. How the fuck was he handling all that? Man should be a blackened smear—

“Anytime now, kid.” Rogan grimaced.

Shit. Flynn’s jaw tensed, trying to take a hold—he eased his shield again and the flames surged forward. He slammed it back up and the fire’s potential bypassed him, arcing from his grip. Christ, he couldn’t—

“Kara still make that little noise when she comes?”

Flynn’s shield disintegrated as the blaze’s potential flooded into him with his rage. It built, his hair standing on end. He was gonna kill—

“Ground it!”

—that motherfucker. Flynn bellowed, channeling the fire’s potential into the ground along with what Rogan was converting. The street buckled and the surrounding buildings listed. The two men fell to their knees, the inferno sucking down like someone had pulled its string, guttering.

Rogan collapsed to sit, swiping a hand over his brow. “Not bad—”

Flynn’s fist took him in the jaw, knocking him back. “Anything about that ever comes out of your mouth again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“No promises.” Asshole chuckled, wiping the corner of his mouth as he sat up. “And don’t expect it to go any better than your last attempt…but you’re welcome to keep trying.”

God, he hated him. Flynn’s brows furrowed, taking in the smoking ruins. At the far end of the block, Markham spoke to a group of Fetches. He patted one of them on the shoulder, and they staggered off, too exhausted to shift away.

Flynn knew how they felt. His insides were hollow with what’d just gone through him. His glower deepened as his eyes flicked to Rogan. Shithead had baited him, again, and he’d played right into his hands, again. Goddamn his fucking temper. That thing inside him…it was too fucking close. Flynn frowned, staring at his palms, the memory of blood staining them. No. Not here. He was safe in the city.

“When you call it, where does the fire come from?” he asked, wiping this hands on his pants and trying to distract himself. “Doesn’t the potential need a catalyst?”

“Look at you all brainy when you’re not taking potshots,” Rogan muttered, rocking his mangled jaw. “That’s a little more complicated, and I’m spent. It’ll wait.”

Flynn’s brows bunched, glaring at the man who’d claimed to be his great-grandfather. Attitude was on point, but any physical resemblance…to him, to Lot. Complexion was all wrong, but maybe something around the eyes…

The man flashed his teeth. “Yes?”

Christ, that was it. That goddamned grin. Flynn looked away. Markham was headed in their direction, albeit at a snail’s pace. “You the one that figured out how it works? The whole electricity thing?”

“A Breaker’s talent? No. Not controlling it, at least. I was pretty hell-bent on everything but. When I was ready to listen, most of the hard work had been done.”

Flynn flicked a bit of rubble away. Asphalt had caved in around them like a giant fist’d smashed into the street. “Did you want it?”

Rogan’s face went stoney. “When the Surge blasted us back to the Dark Ages, people lost their shit, turned on each other. Nobody understood it. Thought the world was coming to an end, God was punishing us…first to espouse the Sons’ ideology were Talents. Turned into a goddamned cult of suicide bombers. You could hear them imploding. See them flare up at night, taking out everything around them until the Corporation showed up with their promise of a cure. So, no. None of us wanted it, but it’s what we got. Didn’t that asshole teach you anything?”

Flynn chewed his lip. “Cal wasn’t around all that much.” Not even when he was.

“What about Lot?”

A surge of temper sent talent flickering around Flynn’s fingers. “What about him?”

“Never mind.” Rogan swore under his breath. “You’re clamping down and getting all pent up again. Breathe it through you.”

Flynn let out a slow exhale. Damn, he wanted a cigar. Thinking about his father, his Shade talent coming in… Jesus, that’d been a miserable fucking experience, but at least the only person that’d gotten hurt had been him. Accident or not, he’d killed people when Kara had been abducted. Guilt tamped down his anger, self-loathing rising up to snuff what was left of it. He needed to get a handle on this before he lost his shit again and took out any more of the city. Another incident like that, and the Pinch would be prime real estate.

Rogan’s mouth screwed up like he wanted to ask something and knew he wasn’t gonna like the answer. Goddamn it.

“Look, the less Lot and I see of each other, the better,” Flynn said, beating him to it. “Ascending to head was supposed to be the end of it. Come up here, assume the fucking position, and spend the rest of my life voting on granite curbing.” Shit, that almost sounded good. He kicked away some debris, the warmth of the ruined pavement cozy in comparison to the arctic air battering down the radiant heat.

“Funny. You don’t strike me as a white picket fence, two kids and a dog kind of guy.”

A gust of wind sent a squall thick with ash at them. Flynn put a hand up, keeping it from his eyes and spat the grit from his mouth. He’d take the fence and kids in a heartbeat right about now. The dog could go fuck itself, but the rest of it sounded like a dream come true. “Kara would’ve been happy. Safe.”

Rogan cocked an eyebrow. “Would she?”

A defeated numbness stole over Flynn. Probably not on either count. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. Didn’t want the same things. Christ, what did she want? It pissed him off that figuring it out was taking a backseat to everything else, and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do to change that.

He grimaced as he met Rogan’s eye. “Probably not. I just—It feels like I’m being steamrolled towards something, and no matter what I—” Flynn flushed. What the hell had possessed him to drop that nugget? He mussed ash from his hair, the reality of his goddamned existence weighing him down. The remaining flickers of talent around his fingers drained away. Damn. This shit really was tied to his emotions.

“That’s it. Low and slow. Breathe it out. You get worked up, ground what pulses through you.” Rogan leaned back on his elbows. “The universe usually pushes you for a reason. Why fight it?”

“Because I don’t trust it.”

“No, you don’t trust yourself.” Flynn scowled, and the asshole’s grin was back. “You should. That was good work just now, but it would’ve been better if you’d get over that goddamned reluctance and stop second-guessing yourself. You’re Breaker, kid. Acting on instinct is what we do. Leave the overthinking to the Binders.”

Markham huffed over, and Rogan stood. Flynn rose with him. The only thing his instincts were screaming at him to do was to bury the prick.

Except he’d tried that and failed miserably. Motherfucker. “So, what’s next?”

“Combat nap. Phyllis’s already filed the paperwork to officially step down. Between assuming First, and everything else making up this shit show, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have to drink breakfast if I wanna get through the rest of the day.” Rogan frowned, scratching his stubble. “Should probably shave.”

Flynn rolled his eyes. “No, I meant talent-wise.”

“Try to not blow anything up until the Source gets here. If there’s an after…” Rogan shrugged. “We’ll work on your control. Start with little shit. Light some candles, break frozen peas.” A smile ghosted over his lips, then he pushed past Flynn with a growl. “Get a handle on your equilibrium first.”

Man stalked to the gate and was gone. What the hell had that been about?

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**FREEBIE ALERT!**
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Get a free bonus novella, Conspirator at the back of the book!

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**Don’t miss the other books in the series!**

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Breaker

The Price of Talent Book 1

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Binder

The Price of Talent Book 2

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Split 

The Price of Talent Book 3

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**FREEBIE ALERT!**

**Get the Prequel Breeder FREE!!**

https://aknevermore.com/books/breaker/breeder/

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AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases
coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not
reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.

Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.

She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen
and writing a column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a
chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare
occasion, sleeps.

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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Step into a world where the Pumpkin King reigns supreme, and other tales haunt your every thought.

Or step out of this world into the sheer terror of the unknowable and incomprehensible deep space.

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The Pumpkin King and Other Tales of Terror

by R. David Fulcher

Genre: Horror Short Stories

Gravelight is pleased to present the first volume in a two-book series collecting the horror fiction of R. David Fulcher!
THE PUMPKIN KING AND OTHER TALES OF TERROR offers up 20 works by Fulcher, each updated and revised by the author. Each tale has been fully revised by the author, making these the definitive versions of the stories.
The collection Includes

*Eulogy to E.A. Poe

*Marienburg Castle

*The Pumpkin King

*Heavenly Strains

*A Matter of Taste

*My Days With Mahalia

*A Night Out With Mr. Bones

*Merry Are We of the Lake

*The Night Flyer

*Pumpkin Seed Spit

*A Night for Animals

*The Man Next Door

*Extra! Extra!

*The Flight Dummy

*For the Children

*The Watcher’s Web

*Dreaming, The Copper City

*The Huntress

*The Faerie Lights

*The October Man

Features a wrap-around cover and contemporary design. Perfect for Halloween or dark, rainy nights.

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Asteroid 6 and Other Tales of Cosmic Horror

by R. David Fulcher

Genre: Science Fiction Horror Short Stories

Introducing
ASTEROID 6 AND OTHER TALES OF COSMIC HORROR! The companion book to R. David
Fulcher’s 2023 indie horror hit, THE PUMPKIN KING AND OTHER TALES OF TERROR!
In this newest collection, Fulcher explores concepts of the insignificance of
human existence, terror of the unknowable and incomprehensible, and more motifs
found in edlritch horror. Fulcher draws his influence from a wide assortment of
authors ranging from Poe and Fritz Leiber to Stephen King and Dean Koontz.
The title story features an astronaut named Jones who, while on
asteroid-clearing duty, crash lands onto a massive asteroid where he is drawn
to an alien monolith and discovering an ancient race trapped in stasis. Does he
dare set it free?
Don’t miss this one-of-a-kind collection!

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R. DAVID FULCHER is an author of horror, science fiction, fantasy, and poetry. Major literary influences include H.P. Lovecraft, Dean Koontz, Edgar Allen Poe, Fritz Lieber, and Stephen King. Fulcher’s first novel, a historical drama set in World War II, Trains to Nowhere, and his second novel, a collection of fantasy and science fiction short stories, Blood Spiders and Dark Moon, are both available from authorhouse.com and Amazon.

FULCHER’S work has appeared in numerous small press publications including Lovecraft’s Mystery Magazine, Black Satellite, The Martian Wave, Burning Sky, Shadowlands, Twilight Showcase, Heliocentric Net, Gateways, Weird Times, Freaky Frights and the anthologies Dimensions and Silken Ropes. Fulcher’s work can also be found in the DPP collection Halloween Party 2019, available at Amazon and at the DPP online store. A passion for the written word has also inspired Fulcher to edit and publish the literary magazine, Samsara (samsaramagazine.net), which has showcased writers and poets for over a decade. Fulcher resides in Ashburn, Virginia, with his wife Lisa, and their rambunctious cats.

Website * X * Instagram * Goodreads

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

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In the world of internet legends, time traveler John Titor
is the ultimate prize.

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I Am John Titor

by Niamh Arthur & Sean Platt

Genre: Science Fiction, Time Travel

In the world of internet legends, time traveler John
Titor is the ultimate prize.

Idealistic filmmaker Ramon Jimenez is stuck shooting mundane
reality shows when he longs to create documentaries that change the world. But
needing to keep food on the table has put his ambitions on hold…

Until Ramon spots a broken-down car linked to John Titor, an
infamous internet legend who, at the turn of the century, claimed to be a time
traveler from 2036. This could be the break he’s waiting for – if he can find a
fresh angle.

RJ tracks down six different witnesses – each claiming to
know “the real” John Titor.

But their stories don’t add up.

One says Titor was sent from the future to stop a
world-ending war.

Another insists he was nothing more than a bored college kid
creating an internet hoax to impress his frat brothers.

A third claims to have been set up to take the fall in an
elaborate heist orchestrated by Titor in 1970s New York.

As RJ dives deeper, the lines between fact and fiction blur.
Who was John Titor? Was he really from the future, or just a cleverly spun
hoax? The closer RJ gets to the truth, the higher the stakes become.

I Am John Titor is a time-traveling epic that
jumps between decades, genres, and timelines as RJ tries to solve the mystery
of the true legend of John Titor.

 

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Time was disappearing on him, so he had no other choice. He had to turn on the machine, and that meant flicking on the Variable Gravity Lock system, then entering a code.
Once done, he heard a loud chirp from an angry alarm, then a small light to trigger the short countdown as he secured himself in his seat and energy began to crackle around the car, a bright blue bubble of electricity as he stared out his windshield. Then the Mustang squealed to a stop several feet in front of him. The driver’s face — one the traveler had known forever — looked stricken.
But that was all according to plan.
I’m sorry, the man mouthed.
The Chevy shimmered, streaks of rainbow light radiating out from the metal frame.
The air grew heavy with the scent of burning rubber and ozone as a high-pitched whine echoed throughout the garage, like a vacuum cleaner on the fritz.
And then the world disappeared.

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Niamh Arthur (pronounced Neeve) is the CEO and
Genre Trends Specialist at Sterling & Stone. She moved to Ireland at 18 to
attend the renowned Drama and Theatre Studies program at Trinity College
Dublin, where she focused on film studies and wrote a senior dissertation on
how cultural ideologies are expressed in modern Hollywood film. She went on to
study marketing with a focus on audience response, psychology, and brand
bonding.

After more than fifteen years running a successful business
teaching entrepreneurs how to use story to connect with an audience Niamh
realized that she was missing her favorite part of storytelling: fiction. She
leapt at the chance to join Sterling & Stone as CEO and as Sean’s writing
partner. She uses her deep understanding of emotional triggers, audience
response, genre, and commercial trends to ensure stories hit the mark and
create long lasting impact on the audience.

After 20 years in Ireland she now lives in Colorado with her
husband and two children.

Website * Amazon
* Goodreads

 

Sean Platt has always been an entrepreneur but knew
he’d rather tell stories. When his wife bought him a laptop for his birthday in
2007, he dropped everything to start writing fiction.

Since making the leap, Sean has written hundreds of novels
(including the international best-sellers Yesterday’s Gone and Invasion),
penned dozens of scripts, and founded the IP Incubator Sterling & Stone,
where more than thirty storytellers work together to create world-changing IP.
Sterling & Stone’s stable of writers come to Sean for ideas, mentorship,
and “better words.”

Originally from Long Beach, California, Sean now lives in
Austin, Texas with his wife and dog, Fisher.

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

$25 Amazon giftcard
– 2 winners!

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

 

Book Details:

PILGRIMS by M.R. Leonard
Category:  Adult Fiction (18 +),  412 pages
Genre: Science Fiction
Publisher:  Blue Castle Press
Release date:  November 2024
Content RatingPG-13. There is death in my book. There are also religious profanities “God damn”. There are also a few swears (not many but some “F” bombs said by the villain at the end). There is no description of sex but my protagonist follows an online creator who does adult content (her content is never described at all other than to say it exists). The main thing is the violence in my book. It is not gory but it does involve children dying.

Book Description:

Latin was a dead language—until the aliens arrived.

Out-of-work Latin teacher and borderline alcoholic Austin DeSantis is determined to spend his final days in the arms of a prostitute—that is if the aliens don’t exterminate humanity first.

But when the aliens land at the Vatican, begin speaking Latin, and reveal themselves to be Catholic, the world turns upside down.

Pressed into service as a translator and thrust into the center of humanity’s first contact with a cryptic alien race, Austin must uncover their true intentions before religious turmoil rips the planet apart. But with Austin caught between the Catholic Church, the US military, and an enigmatic alien AI, he’ll have to decide where his loyalties lie as the fate of humanity hangs in the balance.

PILGRIMS is a sci-fi retelling of Augustine’s Confessions, mixing a high-concept premise à la Children of Time with the ceaseless pacing and rich characterization of Red Rising.

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INTERVIEW WITH AUTHOR MICHAEL LEONARD:
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Okay. The cover. We need to talk about the cover. How’d you come up with that?

It is a great cover, isn’t it? I wanted something that announced the genre clearly but said to the reader, this book is going to be different.

In PILGRIMS, instead of landing on the White House lawn and saying “take me to your leader,” the aliens land at the Vatican and ask for an audience with the Pope.

Is this like the far future, the past, the present? When do these “Catholic” aliens show up?

It’s set in the near future. I’m vague about the time because I think when books are super specific it kind of dates the story. Like in Back to the Future II Marty McFly goes to the “future” which is 2015. Needless to say, 2015 California in the movie didn’t look a whole lot like the real 2015 California (where is my hoverboard?!!).

So the story starts in a world that looks a lot like ours, with one key difference—humanity discovered an alien ship careening toward Earth five years prior and all attempts at communication have failed. No one knows if the aliens are friend or foe and if their arrival portends a coming apocalypse or a golden age.

As you can imagine, this has a pretty big impact on things, not really for the better.

The aliens are faking, right? Aliens can’t be Catholic. Can they?

You have to read the book to find out 😊.

But interestingly, this is a subject Catholic thinkers have been pondering for centuries (that’s right—centuries). While there is no official Church teaching, there are many scholars, including those who work at the Vatican Observatory, who believe that of course aliens can be Catholic if they sincerely want to be.

Speaking of the Vatican Observatory. That is a real thing. It’s in Arizona and one of the characters in the story—Father Ambrose—is the director. So read my book and learn more!

How long have you been writing?

About three years. This is my debut novel. I came from a business background before but I had this story burning inside me and I just needed to get it out. I’m happy to say the response has been phenomenal. A lot of major influencers have picked up on it. It’s not every day that a book about Catholic aliens invading Earth comes out . . .

Is this a one-off story or is it a series?

The book concludes about fifty days after Catholic aliens arrive on Earth. What happens to society ten years after such a momentous event? Fifty years? There is still so much story to tell and I’ll do it from the perspective for the main character—Austin DeSantis.

I didn’t want to write a book with a major cliffhanger at the end, however. The story is all wrapped up in a bow at the end. It’s very satisfying.

What’s this about you going to the Moon?

Even though I’m a sci-fi author, I’ve never really had an interest in space tourism. I like things on Earth just fine. But I do want to go to the Moon one day.

And here’s the thing—I think that is going to be possible in the late 2030’s. This isn’t a pipe dream. I already have permission from my wife an everything (which we all know is the hardest part about going to the Moon).

Speaking of the Moon, my Instagram handle is @Monksonthe_Moon. It’s about time we had monks on the Moon, isn’t it? I’m gonna work on making that happen. I like to have modest goals . . .

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Meet Author Michael Leonard:

Michael Leonard was born and raised in Boston, but the cities he’s spent the most time in are Beijing, Florence and Edgartown (in that order). After graduating from Boston College, he pursued a career in law before becoming a China market entry advisor and accumulating a few lifetimes worth of adventures in just nine short years. Somewhere along the way he lost his faith but he found it again in graduate school at MIT. Married with two young sons, he can be found discussing his next novel with his ten pound dachshund as he strolls around Boston Harbor.

connect with the author: website ~ X instagram goodreads


 
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PILGRIMS by M.R. Leonard Book Tour Giveaway

 

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.