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#BookBlitz Phoning Faust by Sophie Mutiara Nova #NewRelease #LGBTQ+ #NonBinary #Paranormal #UrbanFantasy #NineStarPress

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Please welcome returning author Sophie Mutiara Nova to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Phoning Faust. It is a fairytale retelling that looks intriguing with demisexual and genderfluid dynamics. Let’s kick of Pride month in style and read on. 😉

Title: Phoning Faust
Author: Sophie Mutiara Nova
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 06/02/2026
Heat Level: 1 – No Sex
Pairing: F/NB
Length: 208

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Book Description

Queer mixed Indonesian college student Dian Faust attempts to call the suicide hotline only to dial the wrong number, her finger slipping and typing in six three times (the mark of the Devil). The mysterious voice on the other end of the line is revealed to be a charming scam caller named Memphis with a penchant for chattiness, trapped in a dingy bus stop bathroom, wanting to learn a concerning amount about the lonely Dian’s life.

But this scam caller is more than just a Mr. Robot hacker wannabe—a sinister presence lurks in the pixels on Dian’s laptop screen in the shadows of her apartment. The Devil themself has come to collect Dian’s soul, and “Memphis” is actually Mephistopheles—Hell’s foremost golden-tongued agent and notorious liar.

In this loose retelling of Queer mixed Indonesian college student Dian Faust attempts to call the suicide hotline only to dial the wrong number, her finger slipping and typing in six three times (the mark of the Devil). The mysterious voice on the other end of the line is revealed to be a charming scam caller named Memphis with a penchant for chattiness, trapped in a dingy bus stop bathroom, wanting to learn a concerning amount about the lonely Dian’s life.

But this scam caller is more than just a Mr. Robot hacker wannabe—a sinister presence lurks in the pixels on Dian’s laptop screen in the shadows of her apartment. The Devil themself has come to collect Dian’s soul, and “Memphis” is actually Mephistopheles—Hell’s foremost golden-tongued agent and notorious liar.

In this loose retelling of Goethe’s Faust, will Dian save her soul before time runs out—or will she fall prey to the renowned storytelling deception of the infamous Mephistopheles?, will Dian save her soul before time runs out—or will she fall prey to the renowned storytelling deception of the infamous Mephistopheles?

Excerpt

Phoning Faust
Sophie Mutiara Nova © 2026
All Rights Reserved

This is not a cry for help.

This is a scream.

Please, please, please.

I don’t want to die alone.

The suicide hotline is taking too long. Another shining example of the American medical system as I stare, dissociating, at my black-polish-chipped nails surrounding the dimly lit version of my nighttime phone screen. The string of unfamiliar text blinks blankly back at me. Not judging. Not caring. On my empty gold-whorl desk, a laptop. The web browser which has “I WANT TO DIE” in a Google search next to a second tab that screams: “HELP ME.”

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to.

I don’t…alone…

I sigh as the ringtone keeps going, going, going, gone. It’s a little comforting, the faded buzz like a lukewarm high in my brain as I shiver while encased in sweat. It feels cold tonight even as my body runs hot. I’m always cold even in the heat of summer, like the vampire in Nosferatu, shadow tendrils trailing along white walls. I’m also all cried out at this point, empty as the bottom of a Styrofoam cup. Monologuing to my own reflection in the mirror like Gen Z Hamlet (to be or not to be) so at least someone listens.

I stare at the empty cardboard box across from me with a smiley face note on it. My roommate, singular, had long packed up after we got the pandemic alert. All our courses cancelled as the oh-so-lucky graduating class of 2020, sending us off to an uncertain one-week vacation while they rebooted school for Zoom classes.

My roommate, Talia, and I had gotten along decently for the past three years, time flying by in a whirl of late-night fast-food adventures and giggling over TV show reruns. Though she’d taken to more emotional distance as my senioritis turned to ennui turned to something much worse. Something that probably required a clinical diagnosis—but hell if I was going to haul ass to the campus medical ward with COVID on the rise. They had bigger problems than my mental health right now to deal with.

Talia returned home to parents who are worried about her, relatives who rely on her college knowledge to make the world a better place. Time and visas and the pandemic are all extra unkind to her as an international student, even if she is from Canada. We’d bonded fast over both being Southeast Asian—I was part Indonesian, and she was Filipina, and we’d often joke over the word selamat meaning “hello” in Indonesian but “thank you” in Tagalog. Switching dinner responsibilities and struggling through half-remembered family recipes when we were homesick. I always begged her to bring extra hopia from her trips visiting aunties, and whenever I fried kerupuk I’d find a few missing after I got home. It was a symbiotic relationship.

But I miss Talia—the void she left behind—as I stare at her smiley-face note, the spare coffee maker she left even if I don’t have any of those special tinfoil cups to put in it. I barely have enough energy to eat microwave oatmeal and mi goreng lately.

Which leads to me here, stuck in lockdown, surrounded by crappy dorm room furniture and microwave, nonperishable meals. A vacant room where Talia used to be. I’d insisted on staying out the rest of my lease even if campus was nonoperational. My parents are maybe an eight-hour drive from here, but I told them I wanted to quarantine a bit before going home to see them. My mom’s immunocompromised, and I don’t want to risk giving her anything. Plus, home has always been a bit tense since I was outed a while ago as queer when my aunt saw me in the college pamphlets during Pride Week—Pride flags smeared across my grinning cheeks in vibrant, technicolor paint. I’d rather let that conversation go to voicemail, metaphorically and in what remained of my reality.

I reframe my time alone here as a martyr’s sacrifice, a saintly retreat, like all those macabre stories I learned from Sunday school. Like Joan of Arc burning in her armor, cursing out the enemies of Satan and giving up her life for all of France. Or maybe she was crazy like I’m crazy. Maybe I’m just as bad as her, continuing a cycle of women who thought they had to die rather than live and be “too much.”

The number you have dialed is not responding, please hang up and try—

I hang up.

I don’t want to try again.

I stare at the bottle of aspirin. Our generation’s version of ambrosia or perhaps snake oil, a cure-all that could vanquish your average colds, flus, fevers, and everything but the mysterious virus devastating America. The plague is upon us and all I have are crumpled masks from our school health office in the corner and vitamin C packets—like that will keep me safe. Global warming is getting worse, world events are shitty, but I’m alive. A lot of people don’t have that luxury.

God, I’m a shithead.

I don’t deserve to…to…

I stare at my open laptop screen. The morbid searches. I don’t deserve to do this. People in the world are really suffering. Afraid and huddled together for warmth against a cruel, unforgiving backdrop of hellish global torment. I don’t deserve to cry about this. Cry about what? Being lonely? Being “big sad”?

Why do I feel so empty inside?

I shake my head as though that’ll clear it, brushing away the flyaway bangs at the corners of my newly pierced eyebrows. I’d DIYed a haircut I’d grabbed off social media, wanting to look more rocker chick but instead, just looking like a little kid with craft scissors. That was okay. It would grow out soon. My mom’s hair always grew out thicker. My dad was bald. He said I had good hair—shame I kept dyeing it and chopping it and dyeing it again in my quest to find myself in queer person’s second puberty. Change helped me feel better…

…for a little while at least.

I take in a deep breath. Suck it up, bitch. And I type in the number of the emergency hotline again. But my fingers type too fast, vision a bit hazy, and I accidentally press too many 6s. Three of them, in fact. My blood runs cold.

My mom would call it the devil’s number.

Not knowing what possesses me, I press enter. The number rings…

…and rings…

And finally, someone picks up. A few breaths into the receiver and I’m blushing already, unsure how to handle speaking to another person. I haven’t seen anyone since Talia left in a flurry of quick tears and hasty care packages. “H-hello?” I stammer.

“Hello.” The voice that purrs back is silky, soft. Full of sensuality like the sex kittens in all those movies from the 1960s, lounging on a lace canopy bed as big bad Mr. Super Spy comes back from one of his missions. Dressed in nothing but a diaphanous nightgown. But there’s something else to her voice, a vocal fry undertone, like a punk rock babe singing about crimson and clover. “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

Jesus. It seems I have accidentally called an escort. My thumb hovers over the End Call button as I stare, my cheeks fully on fire now at the traitorous phone. “S-sorry. It seems I’ve called the wrong number.”

“Or the right one, baby. We could go at this all night.” Then, an ungodly hacking sound, like a black cat with its hackles raised in an arch, coughing up a hairball. “Sonuvabitch, sorry. That voice is really hard to keep up.”

Purchase at:

NineStar Press
Books2Read

Meet the Author

Queer Midwest emo turned Scream-Queen-Lover (in real life and onscreen) Sophie Mutiara Nova/Whittemore is a half-Indonesian, SLE-diagnosed Writer-Director. They are the Writing Fellow of the ACEX TV Initiative and Finalist of the Emmy’s TV Academy Foundation Directing Program. Their TV series have been selected at the PAGE International Screenwriting Awards, ScreenCraft and more. They’ve screened in festivals internationally and across the US and won the Los Angeles Asian Film Awards. Their monster book CATCH LILI TOO was spotlighted by GCLS (known for honoring Allison Bechdel). Originally from Chicago, Sophie’s now based in Los Angeles ( Dartmouth College BFA & MFA Film Directing CalArts). When not writing or rocking out, they perform Indonesian traditional dance with Burat Wangi.

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Fire’s Ally (The Ervuan Firecycle 01) by D. M. Kannapan #BlogTour #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #FF #NonBinary #ScienceFiction #Fantasy #YA #NewRelease

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Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes D. M. Kannapan to the blog. Fire’s Ally, book one of The Ervuan Firecycle series, which was released January 3rd, 2026. It’s a young adult, cozy-adjacent fantasy novel Here we go!

BOOK BLURB

For most of her life, Eleg has been obsessed with the eerie, persistent, wildfire claiming parts of her home. No amount of rain seems to be able to put it out.

She belongs to a gentle, bookish society, and her people have been fighting the fire back for decades. But they are not ready for the turmoil it is about to unleash.

Eleg understands the fire better than most. She has already once failed to protect the innocent in its path.

Though she would rather be alone with her charts and graphs, Eleg must become the unlikely hero her people need, and bring the continent together in an ambitious technological endeavor to save their home.

Fire’s Ally is a YA fantasy climate-fiction with queer characters, sci fi elements, and coming of age themes. It is cozy-adjacent but has high stakes. You’ll like it if you like deep, immersive worldbuilding and political intrigue.

Warnings: natural disasters, high control groups

Buy Links:

Universal

EXCERPT

Eleg followed Aizl and Ovvet, glad to be in motion, and glad to be walking with Aizl. She wondered how much Ovvet had intuited about her desire to see the fire. For Eleg, insight came in short flashes and incomplete information. It was probably the same for Ovvet.

He didn’t act worried about Eleg wanting to observe the fire, though, as she suspected most adults would.

Her cousin Zott skipped beside her. The Pavilion Plateau touched the front of Urmetten, their village, and the hill it was built into, from the north.

From there, the children followed an eastward path into a narrow ravine. It was filled with towerlike rock formations that Aizl loved to climb.

As they approached the ravine from above, they had a view of its twin stony walls zigzagging into the distance, and between them, irregular rock pillars growing like stalks out of the ground.

Another few steps, and they were in the cool, craggy depths with the clear sky above and a network of paths ahead, among the bases of towers. The quiet dialect of the ravine creatures surrounded them. Eleg should come here more often. Maybe with Aizl.

There wasn’t usually much reason to come to the ravine. Its hardy denizens survived without any particular tending from the Urmettians. Nearly everywhere else, the villagers studied the soil, rock, and the water, gleaned insight about the health of their continent, Ervu, and offered whatever service a plant may want from their human hands.

And the gatherer parties didn’t favor the canyon for foraging when richer groves were a short walk away. Gathering for the kitchens was one of the few activities that pulled Eleg away from her hiding places.

“This is the best place to practice climbing!” Aizl said. She dashed ahead, her wavy hair bobbing, pointing out towers she’d scaled and the challenges each posed to even a skilled climber.

Eleg smiled at her enthusiasm and quietly hoped there weren’t too many good climbing towers ahead of their destination. The shapes in the fire wouldn’t wait for Aizl, even if Eleg wanted to.

Ovvet walked more slowly, his long robes dragging on the rocks, and looked back to check that Eleg and Zott were keeping up.
“This is the one!” Aizl rested her hand on an imposing tower, both taller and wider than its neighbors. Its lumpy shape formed natural steps. “Best to climb from this side.”

They scrabbled up with Aizl’s supportive guidance. Ovvet boosted Zott the first step. Eleg stopped on the second to adjust the drawing materials strapped to her side.

After a short but invigorating climb, they sat on the smooth top and gazed out across the expanse.

Aizl spread her arms. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

They were above the surrounding stone pillars, and each was sliced cleanly by the early-afternoon sunlight into a bright section and a deep shadow cast by the canyon walls.

Behind them were the vast hill ranges, with decorative stonework marking the entrances of the carved rooms that made up Urmetten.

On the Pavilion Plateau, which abutted it, small figures were still hanging art. The sacred river of Paclellic, lined with chirp-filled amber-and-yellow foliage, meandered into the valley. Along its banks, groups of visitors to the village made their camps, resting before entering the pavilion for the feast. A distant herd of goats made its way across the grassland, rippling the green around it.
And beyond it all, that fire, looming over so many lives with its tower of black smoke and stark flames. It was partially obscured by the mountain range that it intertwined.

Where it wasn’t obscured, its base was ringed with dead earth and black ash, and gray and yellow liquid leached into the earth in fine rivulets.

In the flames, the jagged shape Eleg had seen was still there, unlike in any of her previous sketches. She unrolled her drawing paper and looked over her shoulder at the others. They were looking the other way, toward the village.

Eleg followed their gaze. The air that filled the canyon was shimmering and changing. Thin tendrils formed, like corn silk blowing in the wind, but made of light or mist. The tendrils drew closer to each other in a bundle and began to cohere in an image.

“Look, it’s Puvvel!” said Ovvet, pointing out the image to Zott. The tendrils formed a cloud with a faintly recognizable expression—not quite a face, and yet it left the sense of looking at one. The expression was of playful excitement.

Zott took a look. “He looks like a cactus today!”

Eleg gave Zott some of her paper and charcoal to draw what he saw. Ervu’s Messengers looked a bit different to everyone, but Zott was still learning his plants and probably hadn’t actually meant a cactus. Aizl reached out a hand toward Puvvel, as if coaxing a butterfly to land on it.

Eleg took a deep breath. The visible presence of Puvvel must mean Ervu’s patterns were especially understandable to humans now—a brief moment of clarity, insight, and connection.

More often, when a Messenger didn’t appear, the land’s signals were mixed. Even then, the village scholars’ gentle lives of peace and study sharpened their ears, trained their eyes, and deepened their understanding, creating a sensitive perception that reached across Ervu and into her perennial workings—through the vibration of the earth, the ripples of the river, and the currents of the air.

It fell to the Urmettians to use their understanding to tend to the ailing land. They led the efforts of Ervu’s many peoples to beat back the fire and evade its effects, to replan their walking routes so they weren’t choked with smoke, and to heal landscapes when they were ravaged by ash.

The village youths had years of study ahead of them to develop their perceptual reach. But Eleg couldn’t wait that long—not when there were questions to be answered about the fire now.

Buy Links:

Universal

AUTHOR BIO

D. M. Kannapan is a writer, engineer, and climate activist in the Los Angeles area. Apart from books, she works on space technology, paintings, and cartoons.

She gave a TEDx talk in 2023 titled The Climate Movement Needs Your Creativity, Not Your Guilt.

#BookBlitz Treasure by Chance (University Row 01) by Brenda Murphy #NewRelease #LGBTQ+ #FF #Contemporary #Romance #Suspense #BDSM #NineStarPress

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Please welcome author Brenda Murphy to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Treasure by Chance. It is a Domme/sub, contemporary, romantic suspense, and the first book in the University Row series. Let’s check it out.

Title: Treasure by Chance
Series: University Row, Book One
Author: Brenda Murphy
Publisher:  NineStar Press
Release Date: 04/21/2026
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 246

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Book Description

Fire investigator and legendary stud about town Mel Michaels is not looking for love. Raising her niece, Nicole, after her sister’s death is her full-time job. Who needs a potential heartbreak when Mel’s natural charm and swagger has opened every bedroom door she’s ever knocked on?

Music teacher Sofia Ortega has spent the last three years putting her life back together after a bitter breakup. Back in her hometown she is content with her life and has sworn off relationships. After their chance encounter ends in a torrid one-night stand, both women are forced to choose. Protect their hearts or take a chance?

Excerpt

Treasure by Chance
Brenda Murphy © 2026
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
“Have they set a date for your recital? I need to get it in the schedule.” Mel Michaels kneeled in the foyer to tie her work boots.

“Don’t worry about it.” Nicole shouldered her see-through backpack. “Ms. Ortega said she needed to finalize some things. She’ll let us know in a couple of weeks.”

“Okay.” Mel looked up and tilted her head at Nicole. “You want a ride?”

“No. Steve and Erin’s mom is making them walk to school ’cause she thinks they don’t exercise enough. I promised Erin I’d walk with them.”

Mel stood and met Nicole’s gaze. “Be careful. I’ll pick you up after piano today. I might be a little late. I have to help take Grandma to her doctor appointment.”

Nicole’s brows lowered. “Grandma’s been forgetting a lot of things. Did you see her bruises? Grandad said she fell while he was taking a nap.” She chewed her lip. “What if she falls and one of us isn’t with her?”

Mel shifted her gaze away from Nicole. “We’re going to help Grandad do his best to keep her safe, and to help her remember the important things, okay? I’ll talk with him again about getting help with her.”

“She’ll just wait till he takes a nap and do it again.” Nicole pushed back her hair and shifted on the balls of her feet. “Erin’s mom is taking her to get her temps next week. When will you take me?”

“I’ll take you the first day you’re old enough to test, okay?” Mel rested her hand on her niece’s shoulder. “You’re studying the manual, right?”

“Yeah. Me and Erin are quizzing each other.”

“Good. Now scoot or you’re gonna be late.” Mel gave Nicole’s shoulder a squeeze and urged her toward the door.

“Bye.” Nicole opened the door and hurried down the front steps.

“Bye.” Mel stood in the doorway and watched her niece until she turned the corner. She closed the door and leaned back against it.

The kitchen clock chimed half seven. Mel turned to the entryway mirror and checked her reflection. In the glass, her gaze rested on the photo hanging on the wall behind her. She turned toward it. Nicole’s gap-toothed grin contrasted with her sister Jane’s forced smile and spaced-out expression as she held Nicole’s hand.

Memories of screaming matches with her sister over empty pill bottles and promises to quit, to seek counseling, to take better care of Nicole bubbled up. Mel shoved away her grief and anger. She closed her eyes against the intrusive images of her sister’s body, of Nicole patting her mother’s face, her frightened voice. “She won’t wake up, Aunt Mel.” The memory was as clear and bright as a razor’s edge. Mel’s chest tightened as the images overlapped and morphed into other painful memories too numerous to count. Rage flooded her senses. She snatched the photo off the wall. The edge of the frame dug into her palm. Her hands trembled as she lifted it over her head.

“Get it together, Mel.” She spoke out loud, her words echoing back to her in the empty hallway. “Stop. Stop thinking about it. You got things to do.” She placed the photo face down on the table. Mentally, she slammed the lid shut on her box of memories before she straightened her shoulders and blew out her breath forcefully. She picked up her keys and snatched her gym bag off the floor on her way out the door, counting down the minutes until she could work over the heavy bag.

*****

Sofia splashed water on her face before she picked up the icy cold washcloth. She placed it against the puffy dark circles under her eyes, the chill soothing. When the cloth warmed, she rinsed it and hung it to dry. She tamed her hair with quick strokes of her brush.

She dug an elastic hairband out from the red container on the shelf and surveyed her face in the bathroom mirror while she pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. Fine streaks of grey stood out against the dark-brown strands of her hair. Satisfied she was presentable, she pulled her favorite yellow sundress on. The sounds of plates clinking and her mother humming drew her toward the kitchen.

The morning light streamed in, creating a sunbeam across the linoleum. The floor was warm under her bare feet. Her mouth watered with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the cinnamon scent of muffins.

“Morning. Coffee’s ready.” Sofia’s mother, Alejandra, glanced up at Sofia as she arranged steaming muffins on a platter. Two place settings and a bud vase with miniature white roses graced the round table.

“You spoil me, Mom. I’m never going to want to find a place of my own.” She poured a cup of coffee for her mother and herself.

“You don’t need to. I’m going to travel after I retire. It will be like living alone. This house is paid for. Save your money. Then you can spoil me in my old age.”

Sofia picked up the grocery list from the tabletop. “Let’s talk about it later.” She held out the paper to her mom. “What’s this one? I can’t read it.”

Alejandra squinted at the list. “A pint of heavy cream. You can’t put me off forever, Sofia.”

“I know, Mom. I know.” Sophia added cream to her coffee before she placed a muffin on her plate. She sipped her coffee, savoring the rich Costa Rican blend. Steam rose from the muffin as she split its top with her knife. Her stomach rumbled as she pulled off a piece and popped it into her mouth. The sweet cinnamon flavor burst over her tongue followed by the rich crumb of the topping. She ate the rest of the muffin in two bites.

“What’s your hurry?” Alejandra’s brow wrinkled. “I won’t force you to talk about it.”

“I’m not avoiding the conversation, Mom,” Sofia lied. “I want to get to the grocery before the yoga mom crowd.”

She scooted her chair back, stood, and drank the rest of her coffee while avoiding her mother’s gaze. Sophia bolted from the kitchen. “Love you, Mom.” She strode down the hall and snatched her purse off the hall table before she plucked her keys out of the rack. “Text me if you think of anything else you want.”

Purchase at:

NineStar Press
Books2Read

Meet the Author

Brenda Murphy (she/her) writes erotic romance. Her most recent novel, Double Six, is the 2020 Golden Crown Literary Society winner for Erotic Novels, and Knotted Legacy, the third book in the Rowan House series, made the 2018 The Lesbian Review’s Top 100 Vacation Reads list. You can catch her musings on writing, books, and living with wicked ADHD on her blog Writing While Distracted. She loves sideshows and tattoos and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not loitering at her local library, she wrangles twins, one dog, and an unrepentant parrot.

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. For a free short story, information on book signings, appearances, work in progress snippets, previews and sneak-peeks, sign up for my email list at:

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https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com

Forrest House by E.M. Hamill #BlogTour #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Fantasy #Mystery #Thriller #Romance #NewRelease

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Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes E.M. Hamill to the blog. On January 11, 2026, she released Forrest House, a standalone Mystery-Thriller, romance novel. Enjoy!

BOOK BLURB

Blood is Stronger Than Magic

Ander Forrest renounced blood magic to become a nurse-healer in his rural hometown, far from the drama of wizardry and espionage his sister Kate craved. When Kate goes missing in action, Ander finds himself the legal guardian of her gifted twins and receives a cryptic warning from Kate’s husband to protect them before he, too, disappears.

Six months later, his former lover crash lands in the kids’ bedroom via a spell only Ander’s sister could have cast. Druid Cai Piper doesn’t remember how he got there, but he knows he never stopped loving Ander, and that he was sent to protect him and the twins. Cai is strangely drawn to Forrest House and the land it stands upon.

With the secrets of a clandestine wizards’ order hanging between them, Cai and Ander must remember how to trust each other as sinister forces move against the Forrest family—magical terrorists who want to exploit their rare sorcery and bring the world to its knees.

Buy Links:
Universal | Goodreads

EXCERPT

Cai slept the rest of the afternoon. Ander managed to distract the twins from sneaking into their uncle’s room by helping them make chocolate chip cookies. As snow-blue darkness began to gather in the valley, he peered into the guest room again.

His bloodstained long coat was draped over the footboard. Cai sat on the side of the bed, his drooping head leaning in his hands. It was a disconcerting flashback of the night Ander left their flat. That scene was seared into his conscience like a brand.

“Headache?” Ander asked softly. Cai startled, raised his head quickly, and winced.

“Blinding,” he admitted.

“Here. You need to drink water.” Ander uncapped the bottle and handed it to Cai. “You took a nasty hit to the head. I healed the cut, but it’s a bad bruise. I have some acetaminophen—paracetamol—if you want it.”

“Not yet.” He drank deeply and stood, unfolding his tall frame with caution. “The vertigo is gone.”

“Good.” They stared at each other for a long moment. Ander’s insides still did flip-flops beneath Cai’s golden-brown gaze, bringing warmth to his cheeks.

Cai cleared his throat. “You said I’m in America?”

“Yeah.”

“And if I was sent by a bloodspell, does that mean Remy and Raven are here?”

“Well, of course.” Ander blinked as Cai closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t sure if it was relief or defeat. “You didn’t know,” he said.

“No. Edwyn kept it a secret, even from me.” His fingers touched the blood-matted knot at the back of his head in tentative exploration. “I must have been out. I would never have let him send me otherwise. He was bleeding badly.” His hand tapped an area high and to the outside on his left leg. “Shot in the thigh.”

Ander thought of all the major blood vessels there and breathed a plea to the Goddess that none were severed. “I didn’t think the Fellowship used bullets.”

“We don’t. We were on a joint mission with intelligence agents. Someone started lobbing spells at us and our allies turned and shot each other. He was hit in the crossfire.”

“A Judas spell?” Ander frowned.

“I think so.”

“Were you working with British intelligence?”

Cai opened his mouth to answer, then flinched and rubbed both sides of his head. “Some of my memories are missing. It’s painful to think about.”

“I think you might have a concussion.”

“Maybe. But this feels more like it was blocked by a spell.”

“By Edwyn?”

“I don’t think he would have had time. Not surrounded by guns and magic.” His breath became uneven again, and he sat unsteadily on the bed. “The harder I try to think about it, the more it hurts.”

“Don’t try right now.” Ander came closer and put his fingers under Cai’s jaw, forcing him to look up so he could peer into his eyes. Still no signs of a more serious head injury, but he wasn’t satisfied until he ran his fingers under Cai’s clotted hair to cradle the bruised lump beneath his palm, his senses open for new bleeding. He didn’t discover any.

Cai stared at him as he pulled away, his face inches from Ander’s. They both became aware at the same time of how close he was standing, his hands gentle on the back of Cai’s head as if he were going to draw him into a kiss. Ander slowly stepped back.

“I have to find a way to get back to…” Cai frowned. “To…damn it! They took that, too. I don’t know where we were.” He looked to Ander with a desolate gaze. “I don’t even know if Edwyn’s alive.”

“You can’t ask the Fellowship?”

He stiffened. “No, I can’t.”

“I’d feel better if I could get you to a hospital.”

“I’ll be fine. I think it’s clear I’m meant to protect you and the twins.”

“Protect us from what?” He sat on the bed next to him. “What’s going on, Cai? Why wouldn’t Ed tell you where the kids were?”

He didn’t answer, his gaze slipping sideways.

Ander had not missed this infuriating silence. Kate had pushed Ander away with it, Edwyn maintained it, and Cai had used it to shut down questions when they were together.

He’d left Wales and come home because the people he loved most in the world could barely talk to him unless he was inducted into the Fellowship.

Fury rose in scarlet floods with Cai’s refusal to speak. Ander let it crest. “That’s fantastic. Of course you can’t say anything. Then tell me how to protect them and get the fuck out.”

“You don’t—”

“They’re all I have left of Kate! I need to know how to protect them!”

“If you’re going to shout at me, then I will take that paracetamol now.” His voice was soft, defeated. A crease furrowed the skin between his brows, and the tight lines of his body spoke of more pain than a headache. Ander didn’t have to imagine the grief of not knowing if his brother was dead or alive. He knew only too well.

“I’m sorry.” Ander exhaled, forcing himself to calm. “We aren’t done,” he said in a less strident tone. “You will tell me what’s going on. Fuck the Fellowship and your code of secrecy! Those kids are my priority now. They’ve already lost their mother, and now maybe their father. No more.”

To his surprise, Cai nodded. “I promise I will tell you what I know.”

Disconcerted by his unexpected victory, Ander reluctantly let his anger drain away.

“Are you hungry? I’m making dinner.”

“Starving. I can’t recall when I last ate anything.”

“It’ll be ready in half an hour. Make sure you drink the rest of that water.” He turned to go.

“Ander.” Cai’s expression was gentle as Ander looked back over his shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too.” The flutters inside were ridiculous despite the tug of war between Ander’s anger and worry.

Buy Links:
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AUTHOR BIO

Award- winning author Elisabeth “E.M.” Hamill is a nurse by day, unabashed geek, chocoholic, sci fi and fantasy novelist by nights, weekends, and whenever it’s possible to steal quality time with a laptop.

Lisa lives with their family, two dogs, and a cat in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.

Author Website | Author Facebook (Personal) | Author Facebook (Author Page) | Author Instagram | Author Goodreads | Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) | Author QueeRomance Ink | Author Amazon

#BookBlitz Vermont Paradise by Natalie Monteiro #NewRelease #LGBTQ+ #YA #FF #Contemporary #Romance #NineStarPress

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Please welcome new author Natalie Monteiro to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog. This is a book blast for the new release Vermont Paradise. If you like contemporary, vacation romances, this is for you.

Title: Vermont Paradise
Author: Natalie Monteiro
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 01/06/2026
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 71200

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Synopsis

A camping trip with her family is what Maria was expecting. Long walks with her dog, Maggie, the usual banter with her sister, Tanya, receiving unsolicited survival lessons from her dad, and pep talks of positivity from her mom. But her predictions were only half correct. Never would she expect to spend so much time with anyone else. Especially not a total stranger. A stranger with such a pretty smile and beautiful green eyes. Because that’s the thing about people who you don’t know. They can teach you things that you never knew about yourself.

Excerpt

Vermont Paradise

Natalie Monteiro © 2026

All Rights Reserved

I threw my backpack into the backseat of our blue Subaru Outback and closed the door. I really wanted to slam it, but I had recently taken it upon myself to be less passive-aggressive. Regardless, I shouldn’t show my cards. Mom had practically begged us to be on our best behavior. For Dad’s sake, she had said. It was his idea to go on this family camping trip. Our first one ever. I didn’t know what inspired this idea of his. All I knew was that he thought it would be a good idea to teach us kids about the outdoors. In case we ever got lost in the wilderness or in case there was total collapse of society. The latter seemed to be his greatest fear.

“All set?” my mom asked as she approached the Subaru.

“Yes, my bag is all packed,” I responded.

“Do you know if Tanya is ready?”

Tanya. My lovely older sister. She was the main reason I was dreading this family trip. I tried my best to keep my composure.

“Probably not. You know how she is. Waiting until the last minute to get ready just like Dad.”

“Ugh, I know,” Mom said with a huff. “Your father is still in the shower.”

We were supposed to be on the road by 8:00 a.m., but here we were at 8:20 a.m., still waiting for them. Getting up early was not an issue for me. If anything, I woke up too early. Like today. Five-thirty a.m. was a bit too much, even for me. I knew it was because I had too much on my mind… I just wanted to get this camping trip over with already.

I gave my mom a half smile before passing her by to go back inside. I wanted to say goodbye to my cat, Remy, while I still could. I bet he would enjoy the house all to himself. If anything, he would enjoy being free from Maggie, our four-year-old Australian Shepherd who still had the energy of a puppy. Which, unfortunately for Remy, meant that she wanted to play with him whenever the rest of us were too busy.

It was one of my favorite things about Maggie. How much she loved to play. We could do it for hours. Fetch with her favorite tennis ball or playing with my old, beat-up soccer ball. She even knew how to play hide and seek! But for her, she didn’t really care what we did, so long as we were doing it together. That was why I made sure she was included in this family trip. But truthfully, it was just as much for her sake as it was for mine.

That the one good thing about camping, at least. It was dog friendly.

I opened the kitchen cupboard, hoping to find Remy there. It wasn’t his typical hiding spot, but it definitely wasn’t his most unusual. He was usually to be found under my parents’ bed, but with all the extra commotion this morning, I figured he wanted somewhere quieter.

I was right. There he was, curled up in a tight ball, staring up at me with his bright-green eyes. He gave me a look of “please just let me sleep some more.” Not this time. If only he could understand that he could go back to sleeping in a few minutes, once all of us had left.

He let out a soft meow as I scooped him up and plopped us onto the black pleather couch. I held him tight against my chest, and he nuzzled in, making himself more comfortable. I stroked the long dirty-brown fur on his back, and I could feel him relaxing more deeply. Soon, he closed his eyes as if ready to return to sleep.

If only he knew how lucky he is, not having to endure the family trip that lies ahead.

“Morning, sis!” Tanya screeched from over my shoulder. My entire body jumped in surprise as my heart rate increased. Remy too was disturbed. His eyes jolted open, and he looked direly afraid. I didn’t know if it was from Tanya’s yell or my reaction to it. Either way, it didn’t matter. I was just lucky that he didn’t run away.

“Ready for some family bonding?” she asked with an overly sarcastic tone. It took every bone in my body to not get upset with her. She knew that I startled easily, and I knew that she got pleasure from seeing it happen. I couldn’t fault her for it this time. I could only wonder how I had missed her coming down the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m ready for it if you are,” I said, trying to gauge just how bad of a mood she was in. Out of all the vacations we could have gone on, at least we could agree that this would be very low on the list. Though I knew she wouldn’t handle camping as well as I would.

She mocked me under her breath. “I’m ready if you are,” she muttered to herself in a voice that made me sound stupid. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

I stared at her without an answer. Was she really starting this already?

“God, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with you in a car, for, what, like four hours?”

“Like three and a half,” I corrected, wanting to add a splash of fuel to the fire.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”

I stared at her in make-believe confusion. “Oh, I thought you’d be delighted. It’s less time than you were expecting to spend with me in the car.”

She stared back at me with a dirty grin on her face. “No one likes a know-it-all, Mar. And that’s only one reason why people don’t like you.”

I instinctively clenched my hand into a fist. I usually tried to ignore comments like these from her, but I was getting sick of being her punching bag. Camping would be bad enough on its own. I didn’t need her comments on top of it.

“Aw, what a real shame Tommy didn’t want to come with us. I can’t imagine why. You’re such a charmer. Hey, well, since he’s not coming, why don’t you take all that makeup off? Or are you too insecure to even let your family see what you really look like?”

Remy wasn’t having it. I could only assume he felt the tension. He jumped off my lap and ran up the stairs, probably to hide elsewhere. Anywhere far from here. It made my skin boil hotter. Tanya had ruined my goodbye with him.

She gave me a smirk. “Okay, one: you know Tommy couldn’t take the time off work. And two: you sound like a jealous bitch. It’s not my fault you’re incapable of obtaining a meaningful, long-term relationship. One that’s filled with connection. One that’s filled with love.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure he really loves you. I totally haven’t noticed him flirting with anyone else. Never.”

“That’s it!” She lunged in my direction with her arms at full stretch.

“Girls!” Mom yelled, swinging the front door open and accidentally slamming it into the wall. She stared at where it had hit, clearly upset that it had happened. She turned to give us an angry look of “see what you made me do?”

Tanya’s eyes were locked on mine as she slowly took a step backward. She maintained a glare at me while doing so, making me believe that she really was about to beat the shit out of me. What retaliation had Mom just saved me from?

“It is too early for this much animosity! Please!” Mom seemed unsatisfied that our ongoing tension hadn’t miraculously disappeared into thin air.

“She started it!” Tanya yelled, breaking our deadlock. I felt like I had teleported back to when we were kids. Her five and me four.

“I don’t want to hear it! We have been over this already! I need you two to get along for the sake of your father. This vacation is very important to him.”

I let out a heavy sigh, knowing she was right. “Yes, Mom. It won’t happen again,” I agreed, really hoping that this would be the last of our fighting. But knowing Tanya, Mom’s interference had merely delayed her retaliation, and she didn’t even have a chance to respond.

It was as if Dad had heard his name and was arriving on cue. He bounced down the stairs with a big bag of God knows what in either hand. “All right, all right, all right!” he hummed. “Who’s ready for some camping?” He expressed it in such a way that made the only appropriate answer to be one agreeing with him wholeheartedly.

“Me!” Tanya said, convincingly, taking the words right out of my mouth. It was officially time to put on the good girl show for Dad.

“Me too, Dad!” I said, sounding equally excited.

Mom looked like a wave of relief had been taken off her shoulders. She had nipped our fighting in the bud before Dad could even become aware of it. It was lucky for her, and it was lucky for us. There was no reason to make Dad upset.

“Great! Let’s pack up the car,” he said.

“I already threw my stuff in there,” I explained, alluding to the fact that I had been ready for a while now.

“Okay, well then, you can help me load these bags into the car, and Tanya, you can help your mother fill the cooler.”

I was pretty sure that Mom had already filled it, but I wasn’t going to correct him, and apparently, she didn’t want to either. She just gave him a smile.

I stepped outside. The cool air of the summer morning hit my face. I could already feel the heat from the sun beaming down on top of my head, which meant regardless of the brisk morning air, today was going to be a hot one.

Dad opened the trunk to the Subaru, looking displeased as he noticed the various items that were already loaded in there. He pulled them all out and placed them onto the pavement. I knew too well what he was doing. He needed to load everything in a specific way, making the most space possible. I stood there, watching him, letting him do his thing.

“I’m leaving space here for the cooler,” Dad said, letting me be privy to the inner workings of his mind. He started putting everything back inside, leaving the left side of the trunk open. “Normally, I’d want to put that in first, since it’s so big, but I guess we are going a little wild today.” He paused for a moment, turning to look at me with an amused grin. “Wild! Ha!”

Oh, Dad.

“Good one,” I said with a soft chuckle, mainly because of his reaction to the pun and not the pun itself. Off to the wilderness we went.

Mom and Tanya came out the front door of the house. They each had a handle to the cooler in one hand as they walked carefully toward us. Dad rushed over to meet them. He swiftly took it into his possession, carried it the rest of the way to the car, and slid it into its rightful spot.

“Great,” he said, satisfied. “Now to get the last-minute items.”

“I’ll open up the garage,” Mom said, as if she also knew Dad’s process. I let them handle the rest as I went back inside to retrieve Maggie.

“Mags!” I hollered, entering the house, but she was already patiently waiting at the door for me. Her eyes were wide, and she panted. She started doing circles around me. She hated being alone. Even if it was for a second.

“Do you want to go for a car ride?” I asked, and she stopped in her tracks. This devolved into her running around me even faster than before. She threw in some kind of silly-looking bunny hops. I let out a wholesome laugh at her utter cuteness.

“Okay, good girl! Sit,” I commanded. Her listening skills were great, just like I had trained them to be. I connected her turquoise collar to its matching leash. Together, we did a final walk around the house making sure that I had packed up everything Maggie would need. Her water bowl, her container of food, the bag of treats, and her blanket. They were nowhere to be found, which meant that I had successfully packed them all into the car.

I eyed her bin of toys, opting to bring one more with us. I hadn’t wanted to get it dirty, but I changed my mind. She’d be happy to have her favorite stuffed pickle available to chew during the car ride, so I picked up the soft green blob, and she excitedly mouthed it out of my hand. I smiled down at her, letting her carry it the rest of the way.

“Does anyone need anything else from inside?” I hollered to my family as I opened the front door once more. With overwhelming nos from the family, I locked the door behind me and joined the rest of them at the rear of the car.

They had made fast work. The trunk was now stuffed, with the cooler barely visible behind all the additional items around it. From what I could tell at a glance, they had added in the tents, a propane stove, and camping chairs. With how full the trunk was, it looked like we were going on a two-week trip, but luckily for me, we’d only be gone for the next five days.

With everything all set, we hopped into the car. Dad as the driver, Mom as the copilot, me sitting behind Dad, and Tanya seated behind Mom. Then, of course, there was Maggie, who was half on my lap and half on the middle seat. She shoved Pickle in my face, making me do nothing but smile.

I said a mental goodbye to Remy, and the house at large, as the garage door closed and we began to drive away.

Purchase at NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Natalie Monteiro lives in Central Massachusetts where she enjoys embracing her creativity in whatever form it takes. From writing, to singing, to painting. Natalie also works as a biological research scientist in her daily life. She achieved a Master of Science in Pharmacology from the University of Minnesota and a Bachelor of Science in Neuroscience from the University of New Hampshire. Throughout her years of schooling, her creative roots never stopped calling to her, which ultimately resulted in her debut novel Vermont Paradise. It is her hope that Vermont Paradise can serve as a reminder for all to follow their passions. May the process bring much happiness.

Author Links: Website | Facebook | Instagram

https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com

Down the River (River City 02) by J. Scott Coatsworth #BlogTour #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Contemporary #Gay #Lesbian #Secrets

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Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes back J. Scott Coatsworth to the blog with a stop on his blog tour for the new release of the second book in the River City series, Down the River. Read on to discover in this latest installment.

BOOK BLURB

Nine years have passed since a group of strangers first met at a magical little restaurant in East Sacramento called Ragazzi. They have all been touched by its subtle magic, and have become a family.

With the tragic death of one of them, the ripples spread through the entire group, exposing secrets and revealing truths that many of them would rather not face.

Dave and Marcos are battling their own demons. Matteo seeks an embezzler at Ragazzi, while Diego struggles to hold on to his son, Gio. Carmelina fears Daniele won’t take no for an answer. And both Ben and Sam are dealing with tragic losses that have turned their lives upside down. Into the mix come a few new characters—Ainsley, a Sac State student studying to be a doctor; a mysterious stranger who is stalking someone in the group; and a few new love interests who may have agendas of their own.

It’s 2024, and the cast of River City is back. What secrets will be revealed before the last page turns?

Warnings: Death of several characters.

Series Blurb:

The River City series is a heady blend of secrets, friendships, a little bit of magic, and a bunch of Italian cooking that will warm your heart.

EXCERPT

Chapter One
Ragazzi

Ainsley Kim stared out of the window at the cars as they passed on Folsom Boulevard in a steady row of sparkling red and white, their lights scattering and twinkling like fairy dust across the rain-splattered glass. It was mesmerizing—so much life out there… and in here, as she was rudely reminded by the diner clearing his throat behind her.

“So sorry!” She spun around, reaching for the Toast point-of-sale device that hung from a custom-made pocket in her clean white apron that said Ragazzi in neat black letters. She turned her attention back to her customers. “Are you ready to order?”

The one who’d cleared his throat was a sharply dressed man in his mid-fifties—lawyer if she’d had to guess—his neatly trimmed black hair turning silver on the sides. He glared at the menu as if it were opposing counsel, squinting through his wire-framed glasses and scowling. “Damned print is so small on these things.”

His dining partner, another man in a black suit and tie, but without a hair on his head, chuckled. “You’re just getting old, Andy. Order the tagliatelle. It’s what you always get.” Bald Head offered her a warm smile. “So sorry for my partner’s behavior. Rough day in court today.”

Ainsley hid a grin. She was good at reading people. “Not a problem. So… the tagliatelle?”

Andy nodded. “Sure. With arrabbiata sauce. And ask the chef to make it a little extra spicy.”

She tapped it into the POS, feeling more like a glorified data entry clerk than a waitress. “You got it. And you, sir?”

“Don’t let him fool you. Kel knows what he wants. He just likes to play with his prey.” Andy grimaced, then managed a weak smile. “Sorry for the foul mood. I hate losing.”

Rich, white, and a lawyer to boot? You have no idea what losing is. “Not a problem.” She flashed him her best you’re the customer so I’ll pretend I like you smile.

“I’ll have the gnocchi in a ragu sauce, and an appetizer of your delightful burrata.” Kel flipped the menu over. “Add a glass of Chateau Ciel. I, unlike my friend here, had a lovely day. Signed a new artist for the gallery, a talented Korean painter named Jun Seo Jang.” His eyes fixed on her. “Do you know him?”

Ainsley blinked, caught between the casual racism of assuming that all Koreans knew each other—maybe he didn’t mean it that way?—and the fact that she did actually know them. Or of them, anyhow. Jang was one of her idols.

Customer service won out. “Yes. They are very good. I studied them in art class.”

Kel grinned. “Then you must come see his… their pieces. Sorry, old dog, new tricks. I’ll be getting the first of them next week.” He pulled out his wallet and extracted a card. “Kelton O’Malley, Red Roof Gallery.”

She took it, staring at it. It seemed to sparkle under the restaurant’s mood lighting. She blinked and the sparkle went away. She stuffed it in her pocket.

Nobody used business cards anymore. So old school. “Thank you. I’ll try to come by. It’s a bit busy, with school and work and all…” And taking care of her mother.

“Ah, what’s your major?”

“Molecular biology.” It came out automatically. Her father had wanted her to “make something of herself,” not just be another poor immigrant like himself, working at minimum wage jobs. She’d been at it so long, doing what her parents wanted her to do, that it almost seemed like she wanted it, too.

“Impressive.” He winked. “Still, it’s good to hear that you have an appreciation for the arts as well.”

She blushed. That comment hit a little too close to home. “I’ll find some time to stop by.”

“Wonderful. Jun Seo will be there next Thursday night, if you want to meet… them.”

Ainsley touched the edge of the table to steady herself. “They’ll be here… in town?” She was already calculating how she could rearrange things to be at the gallery.

“They personally supervise the set-up at all their new galleries.” He grinned. “See, that whole pronoun thing’s not so hard.”

She suppressed a snort. Boomers were always making such a big deal about it. “Let me get those orders in for you.” She gave them a small bow—ingrained behavior from two decades growing up in the Kim household—and slipped away.

“Need anything here?” she asked her next table, a young gay couple from the looks of it, who were busy staring rapturously into each other’s eyes like a couple lovestruck teenagers.

“Just some water,” the blond said, never breaking his gaze, his hand wrapped tightly around the other man’s. A single plate of pasta sat between them.

“You got it.”

A two-for-one, or twofer, they called it—when two clients shared a dish, usually to save costs.

Matteo had needed to raise prices again last month to account for inflation. Luckily Ragazzi was doing well enough that they’d expanded into a new addition, taking over the old bar next door for Diego’s cooking classes.

She twirled through the restaurant like a ballerina, checking on tables, her footsteps lighter than they’d been in months. Jun Seo Jang was coming to town. She had so many questions for them.

How did you find your inspiration? When did you know you wanted to be an artist? How did you let your parents down gently?

Ainsley Kim had a secret.

She wanted to be an artist more than anything else in the whole wide world. She wanted to create things, pieces of art that would make people frown and smile and nod knowingly as they stood in front of them, stroking their chins. Like her father did as a hobby.

She wanted to meet Jang, but she also wanted to become them.

The thought of life as a medical researcher left her cold, but her parents had invested so much in that dream, both money and hope. How could she bear to disappoint them?

Maybe it was better if she didn’t go to the gallery on Thursday. Better for everyone involved.

Right?

Buy Links:

Universal Buy Link

AUTHOR BIO

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years.

Website | Facebook (Personal) | Facebook (Author Page) | Mastodon | Instagram | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) | QueeRomance Ink | Amazon

The Death Bringer (The Tharassas Cycle 04) by J. Scott Coatsworth #BlogTour #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #ScienceFiction #Fantasy #Gay #YA

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Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes back J. Scott Coatsworth to the blog with a stop on his blog tour for the new release of the fourth book in the The Tharassas Cycle series, The Death Bringer. Read on to discover this final installment.

BOOK BLURB

AIK WILL NEVER BE THE SAME… AND NEITHER WILL HIS WORLD

War is coming. Aik has become the Progenitor, and the Seed Mother has released him to transform the world for her alien brood. Silya and Raven, Aik’s former friends, are the only ones who can save him and the world. But what if the cure is worse than the invasion?

As Silya rushes to prepare Gullton for the battle to come, she’s determined to save as many people as she can. But new crises emerge that demand her attention.

Raven has his own hands full, keeping the dragon-like verent in line, while helping Silya to save the world. But what if the only way to do so is to sacrifice Aik, the man that he loves?

It’s the end of the world … or could it be the start of something new?

Series Blurb:

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.

EXCERPT

Chapter One
Regroup

He floated, weightless and naked, surrounded by a reddish light and suspended in fluid. Something connected to his mouth and wrapped around his head, like a lover’s embrace.

He used to have a name. He searched his mind for some clue to his identity. I exist, so I must be someone. Or something.

That made sense, but got him no closer to an answer. He blinked. Who am I?

There was no immediate reply.

He lifted his hand. It was encased in metal. The gauntlet. That much he remembered, though it meant nothing to him. Except… it seemed different, somehow. Thinner.

He moved his arms in the liquid, and it sparkled around him where his shifting disturbed it. The metal extended down his wrist and along his forearm, like before, but now it went farther, around his elbow and up his bicep. He touched it with his free hand.

I can feel it. It was as if the metal had become a part of him, his nerves growing through it. He held out his metallic hand and flexed his fingers. What is it?

We call it uurcaa. It’s a sacred metal—it will protect you, and if your host dies, it will collect and save your soul. He could feel the emotions she held back from him. It is the last of its kind from our homeworld. Like us.

He blinked. Then what am I?

You are my son, Iihil. The progenitor, the one who has come before and the first of many more like you. The voice was deep and comforting.

Mother. Warmth infused him at her voice, and an eagerness to please her.

Still, something wasn’t right. He was more than that. He searched his mind, running up against that stubborn blankness. Somewhere beyond it were the answers he needed.

He’d been someone else. Before.

Who was I? Memories of a face—dark hair, intense eyes that nevertheless twinkled at him. Raven.

It came flooding back to him. His mother. His life in Gullton. Training to be a guard and meeting Raven for the first time. My name is Aik.

He reached for the mask that covered his face. It was suffocating. Something was stuck in his throat, and he coughed hard, trying to force it out, whipping around and causing the liquid around him to flash red in alarm.

Calm yourself. The voice was as thick and heavy as an ix hide, and just as soft and warm.

Aik pushed back. What are you doing to me? I don’t want this! Let me out! He thrashed about, trying to force his way through the suffocating liquid. The metal crept up his shoulder. If it covered all of him, he would be lost.

Calm yourself! It was more insistent this time.

Aik stiffened as an enforced lethargy settled over him. He lost control of his limbs, falling still in his floating prison. The voice pressed against his mind. You’re safe. Be calm, my little one.

He closed his eyes and thought of Raven, trying to stay fixed on that face. I can’t let myself forget again.

Then the world around him dissolved, and he was swept up in a torrent of memories that weren’t his own.

Buy Links:

Universal Buy Link

AUTHOR BIO

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years..

Website | Facebook (Personal) | Facebook (Author Page) | Mastodon | Instagram | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) | QueeRomance Ink | Amazon

The Death Bringer (The Tharassas Cycle 04) by J. Scott Coatsworth #ShadowPost #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #ScienceFiction #Fantasy #Gay #YA #GuestPost

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Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes back J. Scott Coatsworth to the blog with the release day of the fourth and final installment of the The Tharassas Cycle series, The Death Bringer, today September 19th, 2024. Scott asked me to post a separate post on release day outside his “official” blog tour (stay tuned for my post for this), and I asked Scott to provide a unique guest post about what his inspiration for the books was for the series.

GUEST POST

The Inspiration

J. Scott Coatsworth

This week, I released The Death Bringer, the last book in my “four book trilogy.” It was supposed to be three, but book three was so long that I had to split it into two. It’s also my twelfth published novel.

Eloreen asked me to talk a bit about what inspired the book/series.

I have a dear friend – Jim Comer – who is a long-time sci-fi buff, and also one of the smartest guys I know. We got to talking one day about space travel. Jim contended – and current science backs him up on this – that faster-than-light travel will never be possible. I countered that we don’t know what discoveries are still in store, and that many things we once considered impossible are things we take for granted today.

But it got me thinking, and so I set about exploring the idea in a novella I titled The Last Run. The title refers to supply runs to the colony on Tharassas from Earth – via a “slow” ship that takes twenty-five years to reach its destination. Along the way, I discovered that my new world had semi-sentient plants and some kind of planetary mind. My readers loved it and encouraged me to write more on this strange planet.

So when it was time to choose my next project in late 2019, I decided to forge ahead with Tharassas. And so a series was born.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it!

BOOK BLURB

AIK WILL NEVER BE THE SAME… AND NEITHER WILL HIS WORLD

War is coming. Aik has become the Progenitor, and the Seed Mother has released him to transform the world for her alien brood. Silya and Raven, Aik’s former friends, are the only ones who can save him and the world. But what if the cure is worse than the invasion?

As Silya rushes to prepare Gullton for the battle to come, she’s determined to save as many people as she can. But new crises emerge that demand her attention.

Raven has his own hands full, keeping the dragon-like verent in line, while helping Silya to save the world. But what if the only way to do so is to sacrifice Aik, the man that he loves?

It’s the end of the world … or could it be the start of something new?

Series Blurb:

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.

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AUTHOR BIO

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years..

Website | Facebook (Personal) | Facebook (Author Page) | Mastodon | Instagram | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) | QueeRomance Ink | Amazon

Earth 2100 (an anthology) by Various Authors #BlogTour #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #LGBTQ+ #Scifi #Gay #Lesbian

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Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes the Earth 2100 anthology with short stories by 18 authors curated by J. Scott Coatsworth. This is a speculative fiction set with LGBTQ+ characters including gay and lesbian identities. Come check it out below!

BOOK BLURB

Earth on the Cusp of the Twenty-Second Century

How the world has changed in the last seventy-six years. In 1948, scientists ran the first computer program, and “the Ultimate Car of the Future,” the futuristic, three wheeled Davis Divan, debuted. Since then, a succession of inventions—the personal computer, the internet, the World Wide Web, smart phones and social media—have transformed every aspect of our lives.

The next seventy-six years will change things too, in ways we can barely even begin to imagine. Culture, climate change, politics and technology will continue to reshape the world. Earth in 2100 will be as unrecognizable to us as today would be to someone from 1948.

Eighteen writers tackled this challenge, creating an amazing array of sci-fi possibilities. From emotional AI’s to photosynthetic children, from virtual worlds to a post-urban society, our writers serve up compelling slices of life from an Earth that’s just around the corner.

So dive in and take a wild ride into these amazing visions of our collective future.

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Excerpt

Tin Lizzy

Gail Brown

Chaos filled several of the workshop tables. Material overflowed a table with a sewing machine. Some heavy duty, water proof beige fabrics had drifted to the floor.

A thick vegetable and meat soup simmered on the stove in the tiny central kitchen area. Next to the stove was a table set for two. Without any chairs.

Celina rode her power chair over to the counter top stove to stir the soup. The counter was a few inches higher than was comfortable. Today she needed to cook more than her usual single serving. Maybe her height measurements had been off. The counter could be an inch shorter, and not be in her lap.

It was challenging to figure out how to build it low enough to see into a pan, and stir the food, while tall and sturdy enough to not knock it over when Lizzy slid under it.

There was only about a foot of space to work with, if she didn’t want the pan higher than her face, and not able to stir without her elbow at maximum height. Which risked boiling food splashing on her face.

Figuring out how to make furniture the correct height, so she could slip her non-functioning legs under it had consumed her waking hours, and even sleeping hours, for the last year.

The stainless steel pan reflected her face. Down to the pointed lines above her eyebrows. Even the eyebrow she had singed an hour before.

She turned the power chair back to her wood and metal design workstation. Another stainless steel surface. Covered with scars from the many experiments needed to build lowered objects, with a glimpse of personal beauty in their functionality.

What would Henril and Trinkle think of her newest achievement? Her former hiking partners no longer walked the trails as much without her.

Certainly not on the narrow bluff overlooking the river. Henril had avoided out of concern for Trinkle’s safety. Or so he said.

Hopefully, they would soon all be hiking together.

Buy Links:

Universal Buy Link | Goodreads Link | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) Link

Authors:

  • Tim Newton Anderson
  • nathan bowen
  • Elizabeth Broadbent
  • Gail Brown
  • J. Scott Coatsworth
  • Monica Joyce Evans
  • Isaiah Hunt
  • Blake Jessop
  • E.E. King & Richard Lau
  • Morgan Melhuish
  • Eve Morton
  • Christopher R. Muscato
  • Jennifer R. Povey
  • D.M. Rasch
  • Joseph Sidari
  • Mike Jack Stoumbos
  • Joseph Welch
  • KB Willson

The Hencha Queen (Tharassas Cycle 03) by J. Scott Coatsworth #BlogTour #NewRelease #OtherWorldsInk #SciFi #LGBTQ+ #Giveaway

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J. Scott Coatsworth has a new queer sci-fantasy book out, Tales from Tharassas book 3: The Hencha Queen.

“A richly painted world that is both beautiful and sinister, evoking landscapes that are as much science fiction as Tolkiensian fantasy. 5 stars.” –Ulysses, Paranormal Romance Guild

BOOK BLURB

SILYA COMES INTO HER OWN, BUT WILL SHE BE ENOUGH?

Silya finally has everything she always wanted. She’s the Hencha Queen, head of the Temple, and is working to master her newfound talents. So why does the world pick now to fall apart?

Her once-nemesis Raven is off riding dragons, and their mutual friend (and her ex) Aik is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, a new threat menaces the Heartland from the East, and if she can’t convince a reluctant Gullton city council to prepare for the worst, she may lose everyone and everything she’s ever cared about.

As she uses her magic-like abilities, wit and sheer determination to try to save the city, she’s joined by Raven and his new friends. Will their help tip the scales? And will they finally find out what happened to Aik as a dark storm threatens to sweep them all away?

Forget messy. Things just got apocalyptic.

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The Hencha Queen by J. Scott Coatsworth

ABOUT THE SERIES

The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.

Tales from Tharassas prequel cover

Books 1 & 2 are on sale through March 31st for just 99¢ each (eBooks, all vendors). And if you buy one (or all three) of the main series books, email scott@jscottcoatsworth.com and let him know and he’ll send you a free copy of Tales From Tharassas, the prequel.

See All the Pre-Release Deals

Giveaway

Scott is giving away an eBook copy of Tales from Tharassas, the prequel, to everyone who enters the sweepstakes: a Rafflecopter giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47308/?

Excerpt

A sharp crack filled the wine cellar. Kerrick swung the heavy mallet back and then assailed the flopwood boards that blocked the tunnel entrance again. The ancient wood splintered under the blow, sending shards clattering across the stone-paved floor.

It felt good to work out his frustrations. Still, the stubborn wood held out against his assault.

He rested the mallet on the black-tiled stone floor, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Even after a hundred years, the barrier was strong. He’d tried to pry the boards out of the solid stone, but they’d been fastened in too tightly. Brute force it is.

“You’re doing great!” Cor’Lea’s voice was artificially bright, and she was as tall as he was, maybe a little taller, peering over his shoulder at the sealed tunnel entrance.

Silya had tasked her with bringing him down here to check out these hidden caverns under the Temple, in preparation for the coming war. Important, sure, but also clearly an excuse to get him out from underfoot while she prepared for her official Raising.

He grunted. “Thanks. These boards are hard as iron.” And hard as Silya’s will.

One day things would be different between them, once this crisis was over. I just have to be patient.

Coral laughed. “I’m sure a big, strong man like you can break through them easily.” She squeezed his bicep appreciatively.

He shrugged her off. He wasn’t sure if the gawky initiate was flirting with him or just trying to encourage him to get on with it, but either way, he wasn’t interested. “Stand back.” He hefted the hammer again, and she scurried out of his way.

He suppressed a smile, swinging the mallet around for another heavy blow.

Craack.

This time the board buckled inward visibly. Another few hits should do it.

He pulled back the heavy iron hammer again and hit the same spot with blow after blow. Craack. Craack. Craack.

The mallet broke through and a board fell away into splinters, clattering across the stone floor. One down, three more to go. “Why did they seal this cavern up?”

Cor’Lea gestured at the natural chamber. “There was a winery here before the Temple. Sister Dor said they used to use it for extra wine storage.” She looked around the natural chamber, which was now filled with wooden shelving holding a variety of bottled food stores. “When Jas ordered the Temple to be constructed, they kept this wide cavern and blocked off the rest of the tunnels.”

“Just in case the gully rats got in?” That thief Raven had apparently made his home in one of the underground tunnels. Who knew who else—or what else—lived down there?

Cor’Lea snorted. “Maybe.”

Are tunnels all connected, somehow? That was one of Silya’s most urgent projects, to map out the network of caverns beneath the city. Another reason she sent me down here—to get me out from under her robes.

A few more whacks at the next board served to both break it and let out his frustrations at the situation preventing him from doing his sworn job and keeping them apart. And at what she said was coming.

Craack. Craack. Craack.

The board snapped in half, and he judged that he’d cleared enough space to step through into the blocked-off tunnel. “Hand me that lantern?

Cor’Lea complied, taking the opportunity to brush his hand.

He rolled his eyes. I should be flattered. But his heart was already taken.

It was times like these he wished his brother Enrick were still alive. He’d know what to do. He’d been absurdly confident about everything, even though he’d been younger than Kerrick.

Kerrick wasn’t great with women.

He took the lantern and stepped over the bottom board, holding it in front of him. The bright light temporarily blinded him as he sought to get his bearings.

“What do you see?” Cor’Lea peered through the hole behind him.

His sight adjusted, and the tunnel’s walls came into focus.

He whistled. Stacked along the side of the tunnel were hundreds of crates, all strapped together in groups and sealed. “It’s… I don’t know what it is. But I’ll bet Silya will be surprised.” They’d have to find a place to put all this stuff—whatever it was, it was likely rotten after all this time. Silya needed somewhere to store people, not ancient goods.

Cor’Lea stepped carefully over the splintered boards to join him. “What do you think’s inside them?”

The long row of crates disappeared into the darkness. Who knew what the ancients had considered valuable enough to stash down here. Coin? Lost treasure? “One way to find out. Does the Temple have a crowbar?”

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Author Bio

J. Scott Coatsworth

Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.

He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.

A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

Website | Facebook (Personal) | Facebook (Author Page) | Mastodon | Instagram | Goodreads | Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com) | QueeRomance Ink | Amazon