Forever Her Cowboy Peyton Banks (Silver Creek Ranch) Publication date: September 22nd 2026 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
He came to Silver Creek Ranch planning to drift on. A fearless diner owner gave him a reason to stay forever.
Trent Lawson has spent years drifting from one job to the next.
Since leaving the Army, staying in one place has never felt possible… until he discovered the Silver Creek Ranch, a healing ranch for military veterans.
Then he met Frankie Carpenter.
The beautiful diner owner with the tempting curves, a stubborn streak a mile wide, and a smile that will make a hardened soldier start thinking about things he hasn’t allowed himself to want in years.
But when wealthy developers start pressuring her to sell the diner that’s the heart of the town, things quickly turn dangerous.
Frankie refuses to back down.
And Trent refuses to let her stand alone.
Protecting Frankie was never part of his plan—but the more time he spends with her, the more he realizes Ironhaven might finally be the place to put down roots.
Because some things are worth fighting for.
Forever Her Cowboy is a steamy small-town romance featuring a protective cowboy, a fierce heroine, and a love worth fighting for at Silver Creek Ranch.
Even when her feet throbbed and she desperately wished she had someone to rub them when she was at home.
She loved knowing people chose her place to start their day.
“Order up for table nine!” Chris called out.
She grabbed Trent’s plate before Tabby could. She didn’t know why. Maybe she did. She carried it out carefully and set it in front of him.
“Now this should keep you going,” she said. She rested her hands on her hips and smiled at Trent. “Or are you planning to nap in the barn after this?”
The corner of his lips lifted. “Depends. You offering to tuck me in?”
She blinked.
The laugh that erupted from her came from the gut. She hadn’t expected such a response.
“Well, now. A big strong man like you needs help?” she asked.
His shoulders relaxed. His eyes crinkled in the corner as he reached for his fork.
“Figured I’d try something new.” He shrugged.
Her pulse skipped a beat.
Try something new.
Was he talking about her? It had been a long time since she’d been in the dating pool. She bit her lip and leaned slightly closer to him. She watched him take his first bite of the biscuit and gravy.
“I’m sure you’ll be okay. The food will give you energy you need. Buck’s been running y’all hard this week.”
His eyebrows rose as he chewed. He swallowed and motioned to her.
“Keeping tabs on me, are we?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she said softly.
The air between them shifted.
This was dangerous and exciting.
She’d dated here and there since moving back, but nothing serious. Most of the men in Ironhaven were either married, uninterested, or too eager in ways that made her wary.
Trent was different.
He appeared to be a good guy. The others from the Silver Creek Ranch spoke highly of him. Melah, one of the female hands, had been in the other day, and from what she’d said, Trent was single.
Not that she’d asked.
Okay, she had. She was just curious. She knew he wasn’t from Ironhaven and she didn’t know if he commuted back and forth since Ironhaven had ample ranches and farms that needed good workers.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man’s gaze took her breath away. That happened almost every time Trent looked her way.
“Dinner tonight,” she heard herself say before she lost her nerve. “The special is chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and honey butter rolls.”
His eyes widened. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. You should come back.” She tilted her head.
There was something about watching a man enjoy a good meal. Trent was steadily packing away the food that was on his plate. She couldn’t tell where it all went. He was solid muscle and fit.
Her? All of the food went to her hips.
“Unless you are scared of a food coma,” she teased.
“I can handle it.” He huffed a laugh.
She just about fell over at the sound of it. She knew he smiled, but it wasn’t often she heard him laugh when he was here eating.
“I’ll even throw in a slice of cheesecake, on the house.” She lowered her voice just a bit.
He stared at her like he wasn’t sure if she was serious. Her stomach flipped. Was she really flirting this openly?
Apparently, yes.
Was she failing at it?
“Hard to turn down free cheesecake,” he said.
“Good.” She straightened to her full height. “Don’t forget we close early on Mondays. I’ll be expecting you around six.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded.
“I’ll be here at six.”
Her heart slammed into her ribs. Behind her, Libby called her name. The place was filled to capacity. She stepped back and, before she could stop herself, she winked at him.
“Don’t be late.”
She turned and walked away so she couldn’t see his reaction. The second she reached the counter, she sucked in a deep breath.
What on earth had she just done?
Author Bio:
USA Today best selling author, Peyton Banks, is the alter ego of a city girl who is a romantic at heart. Her mornings consist of coffee and daydreaming up the next steamy romance book ideas. She loves spinning romantic tales of hot alpha males and the women they love. She currently resides with her husband and children in Cleveland, Ohio.
When Frost Was Spectre Grey Nicola Italia Publication date: August 30th 2026 Genres: Adult, Historical, Mystery
Yorkshire, 1881. Imogene York has one job: authenticate a dead man’s signature and witness the reading of his will. It should take an afternoon.
But the moment she arrives at Trelawney Grange, she can tell the people gathered to hear Lord Alaric Trelawney’s final wishes aren’t waiting on an inheritance. They’re waiting on something they’ve spent fifteen years hoping would stay buried.
Every person in that house-the doctor, the solicitor, the reverend, the aristocrat, the household staff who move through it like they were never there at all-is bound together by a secret from one terrible summer years before, and no one will say what it is. As the snow closes in and the will’s true purpose comes to light, Imogene realizes she wasn’t hired to verify a signature. She was hired to witness a reckoning fifteen years in the making, and there is no walking away from the past.
A gripping Victorian mystery about the debts the past never stops collecting, and the lengths people will go to keep a secret buried or to finally bring it to light.
He shivered as a draft moved through the room. He sorted through documents spread out before him, organizing them into careful piles. He thought about the conversation that had occurred and anger exploded inside his head. The upstart!
What did he know about anything? He, who had studied with Dr. John Snow, so renowned in his field. His throat was dry. He pulled the decanter of whiskey toward him and poured. The amber liquid splashed on a piece of paper but he brushed at it dismissively.
He drank it quickly and it seared his throat but he poured himself another. He contemplated the glass this time before drinking. He should have known. Those do-gooder types didn’t understand the true sacrifice he was making. They couldn’t see the big picture. They couldn’t see what was really happening. What he was trying to do. He set the glass back down without taking a sip and saw that his hand was shaking. Blast it! It had all been going so well. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? Now what.
He looked about the room. The draft no longer bothered him and he felt a sweat break out on his brow. There was much to do. But most importantly, he must find his medical notes. They had been right here on his desk. He was certain. It was a necessity. No one would have come into his room and removed them, had they? No. They wouldn’t dare.
He pondered it. Perhaps his assistant, the new fellow fresh from school, had simply moved them. No. He wouldn’t. He had expressly told him not to meddle with his things. He didn’t like it and he had everything just as he liked it. So where were they, dammit!
A knock sounded at the door and almost caused him to jump. The hour was late. Who could it be?
“It’s me,” the familiar male voice called out.
His benefactor. The one with all the purse strings. He must play the part at least for him.
“Just a moment,” he called back.
He looked at his reflection in the window and saw that his hair was disheveled. He took out a comb and quickly brushed his wavy hair in place. The desk was in disarray and he quickly placed the papers in neat stacks to show the appearance of order.
Jesus, what awful timing. He called the man to enter and the visitor did, looking about the room.
“Am I interrupting you?” the older man asked.
“Certainly not,” he replied. “I was looking for some misplaced medical notes. That blasted assistant must have moved them. I told him not to meddle.”
The older man settled himself into the red leather chair. “I wanted to speak with you privately. It’s important.” He swallowed visibly and appeared to be trying to find the words.
“The hour is quite late.”
“It is. You’ll forgive me.” The older man nodded. “I would have waited but—” He almost stumbled over his words.
“It must be something of great importance to bring you here at this late hour,” he noted.
His benefactor seemed to take in the words and almost seemed dazed. “Yes,” he said in agreement. “Something most concerning has reached my ears, most concerning,” he repeated for emphasis.
The man had no time for this. What’s more, he didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. It was irritating that in all of his important work, he had to give the man anything. For Christ’s sake! Didn’t this feather-head realize what was at stake? But he steeled himself and responded as he should.
“What is this concern?”
But instead of answering outright, his benefactor merely looked about the room. “I scarcely know where to begin.”
In a flash of blinding anger, he resisted the urge to stand up and reach over the table to slap the man’s face. Who did he think he was? How dare he presume anything? The man might have status and money but little else. Just because he had been born into the right family, what else did he have? Brains? Certainly not. If he had been born a common person, he would be selling fish at the docks.
But he calmed himself. He knew who he was. He was the one with brilliance and brains, decidedly so. He was the one who had risen and become the man he was today. He was the shining star. But he needed the older man’s patronage. He knew that. He would have to play the game, then, and pretend to care about whatever was preying on the man’s mind.
If the man told him something stupid like they had not enough places set at the dinner table or the china was mismatched, he might strangle him.
Instead, his expression stayed mild, untroubled. “Tell me the concern. Perhaps together we can alleviate the issue.”
Relief eased across his benefactor’s face. “Yes. This must be a mistake. It can’t be what I’ve been told. I heard something from my sister, but she can ramble. But then the vicar came to me—”
“Oh yes?”
“And the family solicitor—”
“Him as well? My, my,” he said, trying to pretend to care. “What is it they are saying? Tell me quick.”
He only hoped he would tell the story quickly so he could be on his way.
Then without preamble, his benefactor began to speak. He laid out the whole issue, the concerns, the rumors and the whispers that were being spoken about and how grave the matter was. He mentioned his sister’s concerns and a young man who had spoken to the solicitor’s son and on and on the man babbled. He thought if the man was a tenor opera singer, his aria would last thirty minutes. It was exhausting and supremely irritating.
“It’s fantastic – is it not?” His benefactor said. “Most fantastic. I can hardly fathom it myself. I told Delly she was ridiculous. She should know better than to pass on rumors.”
“That is – quite a story,” he agreed as he pulled the decanter to him once more. “Quite a story.”
He poured the man a drink and pushed it across the desk to him. He took up his glass from earlier and took a long sip. “What proof is there of these allegations?”
His benefactor’s shoulders dropped. “That’s just it. Some rumors and whispers. But as it’s reached my ears, as your benefactor, we must discuss it.”
“My, my.” He set his glass down. “And what are you prepared to do?”
“Get to the bottom of it!” His patron said passionately. “Good God, man! These are lies, slander! I’ll not have you slandered! You could sue in court. I’ll be your witness,” the older man’s face grew red with exertion.
“Very decent of you,” he murmured. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass absently. “Very decent of you indeed.”
“Of course, my dear chap,” the older man looked relieved. “Least I could do.”
The mantel clock chimed the half hour.
“That’s of course assuming these rumors are false,” he said quietly, taking another sip. “What if they are true?”
His benefactor looked slightly irritated. “This is no time for jests, old boy,” the older man said curtly. “The rumors are grave. I might even say macabre.”
“Macabre?” he echoed.
“Yes!”
But he just continued to stare at his patron while swirling the liquor in the glass.
“Wait. What are you – what are you saying?” His benefactor suddenly straightened up in his chair. “In plain English. Gentleman to gentleman. I demand you tell me what is happening.”
“Your witnesses speak the truth.”
The silence between the two men was deafening.
“No. No, that can’t be.” His patron grew pale.
“I assure you, it is,” he said, his mouth curving.
His benefactor suddenly looked sick in the low gas lights. “No. I- I don’t believe it,” he whispered.
“Well, you certainly don’t need to believe it.”
“But if the witnesses are correct, and the rumors are true,” he visibly swallowed, “you’re a—” He shook his head.
“Yes? Go on.” He was amused at the turn of conversation. The man was an idiot.
“You’re a monster.”
He sat back in his chair and surveyed his patron. “Come now. There’s no need for dramatics.”
But his benefactor stood up then. He looked flushed now.
“I demand you refute these rumors laid at your door! I demand it!”
Calmly without saying a word, he pulled a cigarette from his silver case and lit it. He took a long drag before responding. “The rumors are not rumors,” he said steadily. “Your witnesses are correct.”
The man’s face drained of color.
“I’m leaving tonight,” he told him. “There need not be any fuss or theatrics. I will leave quietly and continue my work in India. The matter will end and you will squash the rumors.”
“The hell I will!” His face was now mottled with anger. “The hell I will!”
He took another sip of whiskey completely unbothered by the man’s outburst.
“If these things are true, you should be imprisoned! Hanged even!”
“No, sir. I won’t be.”
“Why won’t you be?” The patron demanded.
“For the simple reason that you helped me. Your family helped me, your vicar helped me. You are complicit. Whether you like it or not,” he told him.
“No,” he whispered and fell into the chair. “I’m not. That’s not what I did. I thought – I thought you were helping. I thought you were a savior. We all thought that.”
“Hmph! Did you really? Or did you also want to be involved with the discovery of a lifetime?” he said coolly. “Perhaps you wanted to even take a bit of credit as my benefactor.”
His benefactor sputtered out several words but nothing made sense until he finally whispered, “How dare you?”
He poured himself another glass enjoying himself and the interaction. “So. As I said. I will leave quietly. You will let everyone know that I was called to India of the utmost importance, and nothing else will be said.”
“You can’t get away with this,” he said weakly. “You can’t.”
“My dear chap,” he said, his face showing no emotion. “I already have.”
Author Bio:
Nicola is a Los Angeles native. Early in elementary school, Nicola had a great fondness for reading and began to write creatively. She graduated from university with a degree in communications and has held a variety of positions in journalism, education, government and non profit.
Nicola has traveled extensively throughout Europe, China, Central America and Egypt and loves all things historical.
She has nineteen historical romance and mystery novels on Amazon.
Blood Code Hazel St. Lewis (Fury Verse: Volume 1, #2) Publication date: October 15th 2026 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Dark Romance, Romance
I’ve spent years hiding in plain sight. The Russians call me a ghost. A myth. A monster lurking in the dark.
Good.
I am taunting Severin Volkov. I am hunting him. But the closer I get to crossing his name off my ledger, the harder it becomes to remember why I’m supposed to hate him. He should be my enemy and my final victim.
Instead, he’s becoming my greatest weakness.
⸻
The Ghost is no longer a rumor. Every lead points to a woman who shouldn’t exist. Every answer uncovers a new lie. Someone is manipulating my organization from within, feeding information to our enemies and staying one step ahead of me at every turn.
I will find the traitor.
I will find the Ghost.
And when I do, I’ll make them regret they were ever born. But as old secrets surface and loyalties begin to fracture, I’m forced to confront a possibility far more dangerous than betrayal: What if the woman I’m hunting is the one person I can’t afford to lose?
BLOOD CODE is book two in Fury Verse: Volume 1. It is a dark mafia romance featuring a female serial killer, enemies-to-lovers tension, and obsessive romance.
Hazel St. Lewis is a Romantasy author. Diagnosed with dyslexia at a young age, she struggled to read and write, but fantasy stories inspired her to start storytelling. Unfortunately, now, she is a little too obsessed with morally gray characters. When she isn’t writing, she can be found playing with her hoard of cats (too many to count…it’s a problem), singing songs to said cats, or painting.
Annwyn Park Jennifer Silverwood (The Borderlands Saga, #4) Publication date: January 13th 2026 Genres: Adult, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Romance
“Turn back! Turn back, before it’s too late. Before you become one of us forever…”
The clock is ticking, and Lord Gareth Alderson has come for his due.
Years ago, Dameri Pendraig made a wicked deal with the goblin king.
She won back her child, and that child has become Queen of Silver Hollow.
The last thing Dameri expected was for Amie to wish her mother away to Annwyn Park.
**Book 4 in the Borderlands Saga, Annwyn Park will release in 2027.**
Jennifer Silverwood lives in the middle of an enchanted forest surrounded by cursed books, nosy spirits, and mischievous goblins she calls her children. After beginning several nonsensical degrees, she found her calling helping other authors bring their books to life. Jennifer is the author of two fairy tale fantasy series: the Borderlands Saga and Wylder Tales. Because she wasn’t satisfied writing in one genre, she also invites you to explore uncharted space with the Heaven’s Edge Novellas—and dare to fall in love again with the standalone romance titles Stay and She Walks in Moonlight.
ABOUT THE BOOK: Saige Grayson has always believed stories could heal—even when her own body refuses to. As the most promising bookbinder in the capital, she’s learned to work through chronic pain and crushing debt, restoring other people’s treasures while trying not to fall apart herself. But when the man she owes decides her rare talent is worth more than her payments, Saige is traded to the Azkari—an immortal race forged by the gods for war—and imprisoned in their ancient stronghold.
Her only chance of survival lies with Archer, a fallen Azkari general imprisoned beside her—cursed, dangerous, and impossible to ignore. He offers her a way out, and in return, Saige must help him retrieve and restore an ancient book. But the book is made of living magic, powerful enough to stop a great evil—or unleash it. And as Saige works with Archer, the tome begins to awaken something dark and dangerous—both in the realm and within her.
As their enemies close in and buried memories resurface, Saige and Archer must decide what they’re willing to sacrifice: their freedom, their fragile trust…or the spark that could ignite the world.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Helen Scheuerer is the bestselling author of The Legends of Thezmarr and Iron and Embers. Known for her strong, flawed heroines and action-driven storytelling, she holds a degree in creative writing and a Master of Publishing. Helen has been a full-time author since 2018 and continues to dream up new worlds and stories.
Praise for KISS OF THE BLACK FLAME: “A heroine as fierce as she is vulnerable anchors this gripping romantasy, making every triumph feel earned and every sacrifice unforgettable. Helen Scheuerer has outdone herself!” —Danielle L. Jensen, #1 NYT Bestselling Author
“Kiss of the Black Flame left scorch marks! It’s intoxicating, magnetic and sizzlingly good. Chef’s kiss, Helen, chef’s kiss!” —Caroline Peckham and Susanne Valenti, WSJ and Amazon #1 bestselling authors
“A gorgeous, luscious fantasy about ancient gods, the monsters they made, and those brave enough to fight against an unjust world. Helen Scheuerer continues to be one of my favorite writers with her fantastic new series and its fierce, bookish heroine!” —Sable Sorensen, New York Times bestselling author of Dire Bound
“This world drew me in and let me walk beside the characters. Such a beautiful, gritty, unique world with all the passion and yearning I devour in fantasy romance. Scheuerer knocked this out of the water.” —LJ Andrews, international bestselling author of TheEverSeas and BrokenSoulsandBones
“I’m utterly obsessed with this book. From the very first page, all I wanted to do was read. Helen gives us everything we love in fantasy romance— intriguing lore, fast-paced action, and those steamy, angsty moments and tension that make us weak in the knees.” —Melissa K. Roehrich, New York Times Bestselling Author
In the Frame: A Fake Dating Queer MM Romance Hayden Stone (The London Arts Club, #2) Publication date: August 29th 2026 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance
An artist. A developer. And an art gallery which they both want—for very different reasons.
When recent uni grad Matty Gowen-Smith, a talented painter and not so talented bartender, spills a tray of drinks on a hot-shot investor, Florian de Ligt, he’s left with no choice to make amends. Especially after Matty ruins Florian’s suit on a big night out for Florian’s birthday.
Trying to make things right, broke artist Matty offers Florian his only suit in a desperate effort to not get fired from his job. Conveniently, Matty is flat sitting around the corner, where his one prized suit awaits his friend’s wedding next weekend. Not so conveniently, they are soon trapped together in an elevator at Matty’s flat, and things rapidly go from bad to worse until landing on an uneasy truce.
Which is where a pact is born to come right from this mess. Florian needs a date for an upcoming art gala, a world he knows little about. Matty desperately needs a respectable date for his friend’s Brighton wedding to prove he’s a success in his new London life.
Two fake dates and an unexpected kiss later, fake feelings begin to feel a bit too much like real feelings. Which wouldn’t be a problem if Florian wasn’t so determined to dismantle Matty’s art community by redeveloping a popular local art gallery into luxury condos. An art gallery which may give Matty the solo exhibition he’s dreamt of to launch his art career. And now Matty must choose between his community or what might be a real chance at love…
In the Frame, the second book in the London Arts Club series, features forced proximity, boy next door, and fake dating in a fun new adult romcom.
The fact is I’m kind of a shit bartender in a not-so-shit London bar. A popular bar full of discerning hipsters with deep pockets and others who want to be seen. It’s my first Saturday night working here at my new job. Which is exactly what I need to be doing to bring in some cash, and not spending money I can’t afford on supplies from the local art shop around the corner in Soho.
Forget that my new boss has all the makings of a tyrannical dictator—one who already has me nestled comfortably in his crosshairs. It’s not all smooth sailing despite the luxurious queer glamour of Ivan’s. Dramatic high-coffered ceilings soar overhead with gleaming chandeliers, and chic paintings from highly successful contemporary artists hangs on dark walls. The last part’s like artisanal sea salt in a career-shaped wound.
I have no idea why they hired me. Aside from me technically being qualified for the job. And also technically having the right references.
I mean, they obviously needed another bartender, after one of their old ones left. Which is a reasonable thing for a bar to want to keep running smoothly and keep their customers in suggestively named cocktails, like Get Your Freak On or BangerBaby or classics like Sex on the Beach. But just because I gave them my resumé doesn’t automatically mean I’m the best man for the job.
Never mind. I’m here now and I need to get on with it. The paycheck will make up for my current suffering, and, at best, low-key competence.
Around me, the upscale bar glows with burnished wood counters, gleaming glassware, and a stylishly imposing pink neon display (saying you have arrived and it reminds me a little of Tracey Emin’s works in neon), accompanied by a thousand bottles of premium, backlit spirits on the brick wall behind me that the finest of London’s equally premium queers will enjoy. Backlighting optional.
Clenching my jaw, I wring the bar cloth into the sink, rinse it, and give the counter in front of me a quick wipe, because I inadvertently slopped some ale when I should have slid the glass over with a certain panache expected of a bartender in a place like this. With every last drop of said ale staying within the confines of its glassware.
Except I panicked, because nerves.
Because Saturday night. Because there are hot men everywhere, where the hotness per capita rating is off the charts—to the point there should be a public health warning and an exclusion zone for the susceptible to distraction, like me. It’s definitely the sort of hotspot in London where people go when they want to be noticed. The occasional celeb makes their way through here too, tipping off the paparazzi who wait outside. There’re regularly high numbers of influencers in Ivan’s, all vying for social media clout.
Meanwhile, the remaining froth I missed looks obscene on the walnut bar. I wring out the cloth one more time for luck.
People in the queue for drinks are thankfully looking at the mess and not at me. In my crisp white shirt and black waistcoat and pressed trousers, I at least look the part like the rest of the wait staff, if not the clientele. In fairness to me, I do tidy up quite nicely when I try. Except I’ve got no chill, especially not tonight.
Author Bio:
More animal than mineral, Hayden Stone (he/him) is a writer of fun queer fiction, especially with kissing. Hayden is the author of the When Snow Falls, Being Royal, and The London Arts Club romcom series. He currently lives in Victoria, Canada, and has previously lived in Vancouver, Canada and London, UK. You can find out his latest news on Instagram or his website: haydenstonebooks.com
This is Halloween Sarah Branson (A Blue Spruce Hills Novella) Publication date: September 17th 2026 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Midwife. Halloween. A Pennsylvania hill town. A ghost with an agenda. A historian with patient eyes.
Jules Lockwood, nurse-midwife and family nurse practitioner, wants two years of loan forgiveness and a one-way ticket to Australia. Her obstacle: a town that keeps finding reasons to need her.
Eli Matthews, Blue Spruce Hills town historian, is the kind of man who came back when it mattered and stayed. He brings coffee every morning without being asked.
Agnes Bell, midwife, 1856 to 1931, has been waiting in Blue Spruce Hills since her death for the right pair of hands to pass her work to. She has found them. She is not subtle about it.
On Halloween night, when the veil between past and present is at its thinnest, everything Jules came to Blue Spruce Hills to avoid arrives at once.
This Is Halloween delivers the satisfaction of a woman choosing herself and her work on her own terms, a slow-burn romance that earns every moment, and a ghost story that will make you wish you could have known Agnes Bell.
• small town romance
• ghost mentor
• found community
• slow burn
• woman finding home
• past and present collide
• reluctant to stay
• Halloween setting
• professional woman romance
• haunted by the past (literal)
• second chance at belonging
Heat level: closed door Series: Blue Spruce Hills, Book 1 — standalone, complete story, no cliffhanger POV: third person limited, Jules Tense: past Setting: small Pennsylvania town, October through May Comp titles: The House in the Cerulean Sea; Beach Read; A Discovery of Witches Content notes: pregnancy and birth depicted (clinical, not graphic); brief mention of historical pregnancy loss (off-page); deployment/absent spouse (minor character)
Juliet “Jules” Lockwood had sworn exactly six times since leaving the highway and crossing the Blue Spruce Hills town line. All six had been silent. All six had been necessary.
She pulled her Subaru into the gravel lot beside the Blue Spruce Hills Community Clinic and sat there longer than necessary, hands wrapped around the steering wheel like the car might attempt escape without her. Outside, the October sky was an intense blue with a few white clouds scudding across it. A carved pumpkin grinned from the clinic’s front step. Orange lights shaped like leaves were looped around the porch railing. Just up the street, a plastic skeleton swung from a telephone pole, rotating haphazardly in the wind.
Jules stared at the skeleton. The skeleton appeared to stare back.
She opened the car door, stepped out onto the gravel, closed her eyes, and took a deep inhale. Wood smoke and baked goods, harvest-sweet with cinnamon and nutmeg. It was, Jules thought grimly, aggressively charming. She took a step and nearly collided with a man holding a cardboard tray of coffee.
“Oh! Sorry!” he said, immediately steadying both the tray and her elbow with equal care. He was tall and laid back, with dark hair that the wind had done something unrequested to and kind brown eyes, soft and patient, the sort of eyes that suggested the person behind them listened when you talked. He wore a canvas jacket the color of cedar bark and was smiling with the easy confidence of someone who had nowhere to be and was fine with that. “You must be Jules.”
She froze. This was… unfortunate. Because those eyes were going to be a problem. She recognized his type immediately, the way one would recognize a load-bearing wall, structural and quiet, that the whole room organizes itself around without anyone quite noticing. Those eyes reflected the sort of steadiness that belonged to men who stayed. She had believed that about someone once. Believed it comprehensively and inconveniently, and at considerable personal expense. Never again.
“I’m Eli Matthews,” he said, and held out the coffee tray. “Town historian and unofficial town greeter. I brought options. Decaf, regular, and one with oat milk, because the clinic called ahead and…” he paused, reconsidering his own sentence, “okay, I asked Margaret at the post office, who asked Clara at the bakery, who said she had heard that you’d mentioned oat milk to someone at the gas station in Lehighton.”
Jules stared at the tray. “That’s a significant intelligence operation for a cup of coffee.”
He smiled, a little sheepishly. “Small town. We have patterns.” He glanced at the pumpkin on the porch. “Also, it’s October. We take hospitality seriously in October.”
She reached for the oat milk coffee. Behind her, someone cleared their throat very distinctly — the throat-clearing of someone who had been waiting a respectable amount of time and was now done waiting. Jules’s hand tightened around the cup.
She recognized that sound. She knew it the way she knew a change in barometric pressure, in her teeth, at the base of her skull, in the specific cold that moved along her spine when something was present that had no business being present.
Absolutely not. I am not doing ghosts again.
She turned slowly.
Author Bio:
Award-winning feminist speculative fiction author Sarah Branson spent close to thirty years as a midwife before turning to fiction, writing tales of action, adventure, revenge, and romance rooted in the strength and resiliency of the human spirit. Her New Earth universe imagines a future where diversity of identity is simply the texture of life, with honors including the 2022 Kindle Book Award for science fiction, the 2025 Wishing Shelf Book Award Gold Medal for A Pirates’ Pact, and a Foreword Indie Award Honorable Mention for For the Love of Glitter. Her two newest releases expand beyond New Earth: This Is Halloween, a cozy women’s fiction novella in the Blue Spruce Hills series (September 17, 2026), and Life Ends, Love Remains: A Revolutionary Ghost Story, a literary paranormal novel set in Ridgefield, Connecticut (early October 2026). Sarah lives with her husband in Connecticut.
If You Were Mine A.S. Kelly Publication date: October 14th 2026 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance
Levi Anderson has never felt more alone. Since saying goodbye to his husband, he has drifted between long shifts at the hospital and quiet, empty hours in his apartment, surrounded by boxes he can’t bring himself to unpack. He refuses to face the pain — or imagine a life without him.
Shay Miller has never been more furious. In one devastating moment, he lost the man he loved, his job, and the home they shared. He’s barely holding himself together. He’s tried to start over, but deep down, he knows he can’t move on until he lets go of the past — and stops hurting himself.
When fate brings Levi and Shay together, they immediately see how different they are and can’t imagine ever being drawn to one another. Levi is still learning how to live again, while Shay is learning how to forgive.
Yet, with this stranger who’s appeared out of nowhere, Levi slowly begins to open up and trust again. And with this man, terrified of letting himself go, Shay starts to long for someone he can protect and love.
For the first time, the future feels possible for both of them. But Levi doesn’t know Shay has lied about who he is — or that he’s hiding a secret capable of destroying everything, leaving Levi to hate the man he loves for the rest of his life.
Author Bio:
A. S. Kelly was born in Italy and now lives in Dublin, Ireland, with her husband, two children, two cats, and many plants.
She worked as a literary translator for several years before she began writing full-time. Today, her books are available in English, Italian, and Spanish.
A. S. Kelly writes emotional, heartfelt romantic fiction. Her most popular series are The O’Connor Brothers and From Connemara with Love.
She enjoys yoga, running, and swimming. She also loves gardening, photography, and reading mystery and crime novels.
My Best Four Years Megan Linski Publication date: September 11th 2026 Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Young Adult
USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Megan Linski paints a hallmark to grief in this story of a heartbreaking best friend break up that’s emotionally unforgettable.
Aria and Lucky are two best friends who managed to survive high school, though not everyone did. They live in a small town that’s determined to destroy everyone’s dreams, but when they’re together, the two girls soar. The adults in their lives swear there’s no way out of their tiny hometown, but Aria and Lucky promise each other they’re going to run away together, believing the music they make is going to change the world.
Until one of them leaves, and the other stays. Aria finds herself looking back on her past, struggling to find where she belongs in a place that wishes to stomp out her light. Lucky’s rise and fall is brighter than a supernova, dazzling and destroying whatever it touches.
Then the unthinkable happens, and their friendship is left in the remnants of what comes after.
Lucky promised Aria forever. But forever turns out to be far shorter than either of them thought it could be.
An honest, endearing novel, My Best Four Years is a devastating portrayal of the power of unconditional friendship, and the loss that is felt when those we love are left behind.
“Are you ready for this?” Lucky asked. The rhinestones on her guitar glimmered as she slipped the strap over her shoulder. We were behind a curtain that led to the small stage of a local bar, where a dozen patrons clattered about. We’d been selected as the headlining act for a band that played regularly on Friday nights, and we were so nervous.
Lucky’s face was pale white. I was sure mine looked the same. Our first live show. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“It’s our time,” I said confidently. “Let’s get out there.”
The curtain was pulled aside, and we strode on stage in unison as the announcer introduced us. I took my stance at the keyboard, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
We started off strong, and got an enthusiastic response from the crowd during the first song. The next song was a little shaky, but the longer we played, the more confident we became, until we’d nearly gone through every song we’d created. The crowd was really getting into the music.
As I played the keyboard, somebody caught my eye from the corner of the bar. The most handsome man I’d ever seen was leaning on the counter. He might’ve been a few years older than I was. I was absolutely captivated by his appearance, so much so that I nearly missed a note on the melody.
When I met his blue eyes, he gave me a smile. I bashfully looked down when we finished the song, and we went to take a bow as we wrapped up the show. The applause in the room was so loud, I could hardly hear myself think. The curtain was drawn, and I felt shaky on my feet as I realized we’d actually done it. We’d pulled off our first performance!
“That was amazing!” Lucky cheered. “I loved every minute! The lights, the stage! It made me feel so alive!”
“It was incredible,” I gushed. “I’m so proud of us, Lucky!”
I gave her a squealing hug. We cheerfully hopped off stage, then headed to the bar to get a drink. People clapped us on the back and congratulated us as we walked through the bar, thanking us for the performance.
While we were sipping on virgin cocktails, Lucky’s phone rang. She picked it up, a huge smile spread across her face. “Hello, Carla! Yeah, we just got done! It was amazing. I wish you were here to see it…”
Her words trailed off. The smile slid off Lucky’s face. After a few moments, she nodded, and hung up the phone with a vacant gaze.
“It’s Carla,” she said. “She’s in the parking lot waiting to pick me up. She says we have to talk.”
Author Bio:
Megan Linski is a USA TODAY Bestselling Author who lives in Michigan. She is the author of more than sixty fantasy and paranormal novels which feature themes of friendship, community, and healthy romantic relationships. She has over fifteen years of experience writing books alongside working as a journalist and editor. She graduated from the University of Iowa, where she studied Creative Writing.
Her passions include ice skating and horseback riding. In her free time she enjoys dancing in the snow and drinking fancy coffee while at her natural habitat, the mall.
Megan advocates for the rights of the disabled, and is an activist for mental health awareness.
Megan co-writes the Hidden Legends Universe with Alicia Rades. She also writes under the pen name of Natalie Erin for the Creatures of the Lands series, co-authored by Krisen Lison.
Wanted: Rogues and Bards AJ Sherwood & Jocelynn Drake Publication date: September 11th 2026 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, LGBTQ+, Paranormal, Romance
Welcome to E.V.I.L! (Every Villain is Legendary.) Mission Guidelines:
Be evil. (Except, y’know, when someone’s in trouble, or might need a rescue out of an open grave, things like that.)
Adopt new members. (At least, Fenric would love to keep the sexy bard, but would Lirion even want to join them?)
Retrieve Fenric’s mother’s stolen treasures (and beat up the heroes who stole them if possible)
Rescue Lirion’s sister and wait, what do you mean breaking up a sex ring and helping a village from being overrun by finfolk LOWERED our villain rankings overnight?
Future Goals: climb the villain rankings, find a lair, get revenge, and trash talk The Box
Welcome and try not to die (but if you do our necromancer will raise you).
This book contains: questionable baking practices, Tub Time™, and emotional support pecs.
Tags:
LitRPG, gay romance, shapeshifting, high fantasy, possessed clubs, accidental poisonings, chosen family, heroes vs. villains, band of brothers, a shapeshifting rogue, an elf necromancer, a loquacious barbarian, a warlock with a talking stick, a half-merman pirate, a poisonous Puppy, quest of vengeance, Fenric’s not sure how he became the mother hen of the group, Maxie doesn’t need more seduction lessons, Lirion begs to differ, Tub Time is sacred, incompetence can be sexy, apparently, High Seas Hijinks, another example of a bard f*cking his way in AND out of trouble, if villain bad, why hot?, calling all passengers: Hop on board, the shenanigan ship is about to sail! Skelebabies
“The only problem is that no one knows how things are ranked. The ministry has always kept that a tight secret,” Malfas joined in. “No one knows if they view kidnapping a family of five as more or less evil than killing a priest of say, Sabu.”
“Or is kidnapping a family of five farmers worse than kidnapping a family of three nobles? No one knows!” Rain whined.
Malfas nodded. “These are the kinds of things we need to know if we’re going to climb the rankings.”
Fenric scoffed. “Or even get on the list.”
“E.V.I.L. isn’t currently on the list? How big is the list?” Maxie asked as he turned to pour the eggs onto the hot skillet.
“Twenty spots each. Top twenty heroes and top twenty villains,” Rain answered.
“After all the information is gathered, the minister meets with his twenty chancellors,” Fenric continued to keep Rain from heading down the path of listing all the reason why those twenty villains didn’t deserve to be on the list at all. “They compare the new information with the last released rankings and discuss the results. Following a month of debate, the Ministry of Hero and Villain Affairs releases both lists.”
“But it’s all bullshit!” Rain roared, pounding on the table some more. “Everyone knows that both sides are bribing the hell out of the minister and his fucking flunkies so they get listed higher than they deserve. Brickle the Beast keeps paying his way into the number nineteen slot on the villains, and I wouldn’t let that nose-picking shit-stealer lick my boots. He’s an idiot. He’s sank more ships than I’ve even owned.”
“And the heroes aren’t any better.” Malfas grumbled as he watched Maxie move the eggs around in the pan with a spatula.
Sadly, despite knowing that the food was probably poisoned, Fenric couldn’t deny a delicious aroma was starting to drift from the kitchen. Was that part of the poison at work? Did Maxie’s magic actually try to entice you into eating his food? That was fucking sinister.
“I’ve heard plenty of people state that at least seventeen of the twenty spots on the heroes’ list are bought and paid for with bribes,” Malfas continued.
“More like all twenty,” Rain grumbled.
“But why are the lists so important,” Maxie inquired. He crossed to one of the cabinets and pulled down a chipped wooden plate. “It doesn’t seem like something that people would care enough about to bribe their way onto it. Especially the villains. You’re all so badbums and amazing.”
Fenric winced. May the gods fucking forgive him, but someone needed to teach Maxie how to properly swear. “That’s badass, you mean,” he corrected. “Badass.”
Maxie smiled brilliantly at him. “Yes, badass.”
Rain snickered and Fenric kicked the pirate under the table, causing him to howl.
“The heroes care about the list because they receive a very healthy stipend from the government for appearing on the list. Higher on the list they are, the more they receive,” Malfas explained.
“But isn’t that to help save on military and public service fees. The main government and small local governments don’t need to keep large watches and guards because of the heroes,” Maxie replied. He picked up the spatula and started scooping fluffy scrambled eggs onto the plate.
“That would be true if the heroes weren’t as corrupt as hell and more dangerous than most villains,” Rain countered.
Maxie wilted. “Oh.” He placed the plate on the counter near the stove. Even from where Fenric sat at the table, he could see that those were the damn fluffiest scrambled eggs he’d seen in his life. He was tempted to give them a taste even though he knew they had to be deadly.
“Villains obviously don’t get a government paycheck for being evil. However, being on the list clears away headaches sometimes and opens up opportunities,” Fenric continued, trying to ignore the sudden rumbling of his stomach.
Maxie blinked wide eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“Little peon, weak villains will steer clear of you if you’re on the list,” Rain said.
“And opportunities arise when you have a big scheme but can’t do it all yourself. This means you have to hire in more help—like an experienced pirate with a ship or a necromancer,” Malfas explained. He pinched a fluffy chunk of egg between two fingers and held it up to the sunlight pouring through one of the windows, inspecting it.
“Or a powerful warlock and a rogue thief good at sneaking,” Maxie continued.
“Exactly! If you’re on the list, you’ve proven yourself as a badass and can command a higher cut of the booty at the end of the job.”
And without a thought in his fucking head, Malfas popped that egg into his mouth and chewed happily, looking so proud of himself for giving Maxie such valuable and important information.
“Malfas!” Fenric shouted while Maxie stared in horror.
“What?” The warlock was still clueless.
Rain fell out of his chair laughing. The damn pirate rolled on the floor, knocking into chairs, cackling like a lunatic, while the poor warlock continued to look on utterly confused. But the realization hit him finally, and all the color drained from his face.
“What did I do?” he gasped.
“Is there a chance it wasn’t poisoned?” Maxie asked in a small voice.
“Nope. It was poisoned.” His voice was growing tighter as his hands lifted to clutch his stomach. He flashed Maxie a weak smile as he started to curl his body slowly toward the floor. “The eggs were, ungh, delicious though. Best I’ve ever eaten.”
Fenric scoffed. “Probably the last too.”
“I think I’ll go find Hapi,” Maxie offered, already starting to run for the stairs.
“And tell him to bring some skelebabies. I’m not dragging his corpse into the yard,” Fenric yelled after him.
Author Bio:
AJ Sherwood believes in happily ever afters, magic, dragons, good men, and dark chocolate. She often dreams at night of delectable men doing sexy things with each other. In between writing multiple books (often at the same time) she pets her cats, plays with her dogs, and attempts insane things like aerial yoga.
She currently resides in Michigan with aforementioned dogs and cats. Being in snow country gives her the excuse to stay inside and watch bl dramas, which suit her perfectly.
Jocelynn Drake loves a good story, whether she is reading it or writing one of her own. Over the years, her stories have allowed her to explore space, talk to dragons, dodge bullets with assassins, hang with vampires, and fall in love again and again.
This former Kentucky girl has moved up, down, and across the U.S. with her husband. Recently, they’ve settled near the Rockies.
When she is not hammering away at her keyboard or curled up with a book, she can be found walking her dog Ace, or playing video games. She loves Bruce Wayne, Ezio Auditore, travel, tattoos, explosions, and fast cars.
