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A Damned Dirty Thing


Some cases require a gun.

Others need magic.

This one demands both.


A Damned Dirty Thing:

The Jake Bishop Files

by Doc Blalock

Genre: Noir Paranormal Sleuth Suspense


The explosion should have killed him . . .

Jake Bishop is back on the streets of Solomon City, ten months after a mob bombing destroyed his office and murdered his partner and secretary. But Bishop isn’t just any private detective—he’s a “ditch wizard” able to step through shadow and bend reality to his will.

When the beautiful and mysterious Portia Vance answers his ad for a new secretary, Bishop thinks his luck might finally be changing. Together, they begin hunting Vito Morelli, the mob boss who ordered the hit that nearly ended Bishop’s life.

Their investigation leads them through the city’s darkest corners—from strip clubs to shadow banking operations, from corrupt cops to magical wards. But in a world where bullets and spells are equally deadly, and where everyone has secrets worth killing for, Bishop discovers that the line between hunter and hunted is thinner than he thought.

Some cases require a gun. Others need magic. This one demands both.

In the shadows of Solomon City, justice comes with a price—and revenge wears a beautiful face.

A gritty noir fantasy that proves sometimes the most dangerous magic is the human heart.

  

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Christopher “Doc” Blalock is a US Navy veteran Corpsman and retired counselor. He is a prolific fine artist, illustrator, musician, sculptor and writer, cursed with the itch to create. He draws inspiration from sources ranging from JRR Tolkien to Tom Clancy. He additionally draws from his love of classic black-and-white noir films, infusing their moody aesthetic and storytelling into his writing. A helpless coffee addict, he lives in the Atlanta suburbs with his childhood sweetheart and a dog of dubious moral character.

 

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To Hell and Back

To Hell and Back
Bill Blume
Publication date: January 20th 2026
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

For one pair of swordfighters, their marriage is worth going to Hell and back.

Ty and Dani are a modern-day, swordfighting husband-and-wife duo who help with exorcisms until a demon kills Dani’s mother and all of their fellow exorcists. Now, they’re on a quest for revenge through the realms of Hell, and killing the demon is just the start of the journey. To keep the demon from reviving, Dani and Ty must escape Hell within seven days and cast the demon’s head and heart into an Eternal Flame. To get back to the mortal realm in time, they rely on their small terrier Wicket to lead them past the demon’s army and thousands of other horrors.

To Hell and Back takes readers on an epic journey perfect for those who believe love can overcome any challenge and that a devoted dog makes the perfect guide no matter where you need to go.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT:

They didn’t drive far, parking on a cobblestone street next to the café, sitting on a street corner. The entire front wall of the café was made up of tall doors that were all turned open to take advantage of the pleasant spring weather. Ty sucked down his coffee. It tasted stronger than what he preferred, but as tired as he was, he considered that a good thing.

“I imagine you have a lot of questions.” Maria sat at one of the tables closest to the sidewalk with people dressed in business suits and hospital scrubs walking by. She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, draping her arm over the back of it.

“I’m told you work for the church?” He decided against gambling on whether it was the Catholic or Episcopal Church.

“Heard that, did you?” She cracked an amused grin, as if she’d been privy to his conversation with Barry. “That’s only partially true. We’re funded by the Church of England, but we don’t answer to them.”

Taking a chug of his coffee, Ty then asked, “And who is we?”

“A fair question, and I’ll get to that soon enough.” She paused for her own sip of coffee. When she continued, she stared out at the street as cars rumbled across the cobblestones. “I’d like to talk about you a bit first. I notice you’ve started the transition.”

“The what?”

“Oh, you’re trying to find a way to make a living off that sword arm of yours that doesn’t require a nine-to-five job typing on a keyboard or some other nonsense. You’re going the usual route: giving lessons to wannabes drunk on fantasies of medieval knights or Star Wars. You know. The usual stuff.” She looked at him with a smirk that assured him she already knew the answer to her next question. “You enjoying all that?”

He cleared his throat and sniffed. His sinuses were still killing him.

“I’m paying my bills.” He shrugged, trying to mimic her nonchalance by turning his focus out onto the street and the passersby. Didn’t keep him from seeing her amused reaction to his answer, that she knew he was full of shit.

Yeah, he’d taken to giving part-time lessons at a local fencing club that included saber fighting. Most of the job seemed more about punishing clients into the realization that they weren’t going to turn into Inigo Montoya overnight and that fighting with a sword required both finesse and brutality. Being good with a sword required a killer instinct. Forcing others with limited skills to realize they didn’t have that certain something was taking a toll on him.

“Look, Mr. Faison.” She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “For some people that’s enough, and that’s fine.” The way she said “fine” left little doubt it was anything but that. “But someone like you…” She shook her head.

He tried to bluff, acting amused and disinterested, but his acting skills failed him again. “You think so?”

The way her expression hardened, that single eye narrowing on him, forced his full focus on her. “I think you’re the kind of person who’s only ever whole when he’s got a sword in his hand and a real fight in front of him.”

She leaned back in her chair again, with all the satisfaction of a wildcat dining on a fresh kill. The silence offered him a chance to respond, but she’d left him speechless. No one had ever peeled him down to his bones like this—not even his parents—not this fast or with such ease.

After giving him his chance to answer and seeing he wasn’t able to, Maria sipped her coffee and then continued. “You’re twenty-six. You used to finish in the top three at most competitions you entered but you haven’t in more than a year. It’s not that your skills or body are fading, and it’s not because you’re distracted by the side work that pays the bills. No, it’s because even the competitions are starting to bore you. Those fights aren’t real anymore, because all that’s at stake there is pride.”

“And what? You’re offering me a ‘real fight’? What is this? Some kind of underground sword fight club, where the loser dies, and the first rule is to not talk about it?”

She shook her head, grinning at his attempt at wit. “This is no game or club. Underground? Somewhat. But what you’ll be doing will make a real difference in people’s lives. I’m offering you a chance to reclaim that fire that ignited the moment you first touched a sword.

“I’m giving you a chance to find your heart.”

Author Bio:

Bill Blume discovered his love for the written word while in high school and has been writing ever since. His latest novel, West of Apocalypse, is now available from Time Killer Publishing. His short stories have been published in many fantasy anthologies and various ezines.

Like the father figure in his “Gidion Keep, Vampire Hunter” novels, Bill works as a 911 dispatcher for Henrico County Police and has done so for more than two decades. He served as the 2013 chair for James River Writers, which produces one of the nation’s best annual conferences for educating and connecting writers.

He graduated from the University of South Carolina with a degree in Broadcast Journalism in 1995. In the years after, he worked as a TV news producer, first in Columbus, Georgia, and then in Richmond, Virginia, which has become home for Bill & his family.

You can learn more about Bill at his website: http://www.billblume.net.

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Exile


Together or not at all.

Exile

The Price of Talent Book 5

by AK Nevermore

Genre: Spicy Dystopian Romance




Together or not at all.

 

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


Flynn Scot is spiraling.


After a cataclysmic chain of events and devastating loss, Flynn’s grasp on reality is slipping. Backed into a corner by the Assembly and his sanity called into question, the threat of exile and having his talent stripped endangers not only him, but any chance he might have of getting his family back…if they’re not already past saving.


Deep in stasis, Kara’s fate is uncertain.


Stolen away and in the clutches of a madman, Kara’s future depends solely upon Titus’s sufferance. With unfettered access to her genome, his attention is fixated upon the next iteration of Talents—especially after events in the North change her status from prize to bait.


Because Flynn is coming for her, and he’s not coming alone.

 

 

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Cal grimaced and climbed to his feet as Glynfyls stopped shaking. He clutched his breast, groping for the ward Miriam had set some thirty-odd years ago that tied Flynn back to him. Please, God… Cal exhaled, his knees buckling in relief. Still there. Felt different, but the boy wasn’t dead.

Not yet at least.

His gaze slid from the calamity outside the window to the blood spattered across the wall and the gore-soaked carpet. In the unlikely event House Scot survived the next seventy-two hours, the whole damned room would have to be gutted. He dropped the last of his cigarette and ground it out beside Cordelia Kernss corpse.

And if they didn’t survive, screw the resale value. What a goddamned mess.

“Here’s a spot, there’s a spot…” he muttered to himself, bastardizing lines from his brief stint in community theater. Seemed appropriate. He couldn’t clearly remember his last wife’s smile or the faces of any of the children he’d buried, but every goddamned line from that play, every goddamned moment he’d spent with her, was seared into his memory in high goddamned definition.

Her. Elize. Lizzy. His Lilith.

Cal ran a shaking hand down his face. Squatted. Knees cracking, he leaned forward to lower Kerns’s lids and cover the look of surprise in her grayed-over baby blues, his gaze locking on the imprint of a bloody crescent between her brows—

A flash of memory—the same mark on his second wife—hit him hard.

He stumbled into a chair and pulled out his pouch of tobacco, cursing the tremor in his hands. Fingers fumbling, he threw aside the botched attempt. Deep breath. Rolled another. It was passible, barely. He lit it. Blew out a frenetic puff of smoke and spat tobacco from his lip.

His gaze drifted back to Kerns’s corpse. Another woman with her throat slit. Wasn’t related to Julia’s earlier demise, but that wouldn’t stop Crandall and the city’s rumor mill from having a goddamned field day with it.

Christ. Between that and Flynn’s tantrum destroying everything as far as the eye could see, House Scot was on borrowed time.

And when the press caught wind of Kara’s abduction, it would be worse.

What a clusterfuck. If thered been any place to go, Cal would’ve started packing his bags, but this time, there wasn’t. Jane—Mother—had made sure of that.

He blew out a ragged stream of smoke and glanced at the couch as he brought the sad excuse for a cigarette to his lips again. Kara’s cat glared back. Miserable animal was wrapped around Fitz’s throat with its green eyes narrowed. Cal frowned at the rise and fall of the boy’s chest. Looked like taking pity on fuck ups was still part of Elize’s MO.

Not that the boy was losing any sleep over his brush with death. He was sawing wood like he didn’t have a care in the world thanks to Nora’s induced coma. Must be nice.

Cal took another drag, cursing himself and the lingering scent of Elize’s perfume. The barest hint of bergamot dragging his mind back to that first summer they’d met. To the stolen kisses during rehearsals. To the way the lighting had hit the curve of her cheek and the look she’d throw over her shoulder as she sauntered into the wings. Christ, that still got his dick hard.

Too bad her seduction had been as much of a role as the one she’d played on stage.

He’d hauled sets around the whole damned summer for that shit, podunk production to be close to her. Senator Dashell’s daughter. What she’d seen in the son of a pig farmer—Christ. In retrospect, he knew exactly what she’d seen. Or rather, what her father had. Man hadn’t blinked twice at pimping her out for twelve hundred acres just outside of town where the Corporation could build their research facility.

And damn them, but they’d gotten it.

Why her and her brother had stuck around after, slumming with the five of them—

Cal shook his head, staring at the blood pooling beneath Kerns. What was done, was done, and his hands had never been clean. No. He’d been up to his goddamned elbows in this shit from the get-go, but this right here? This was gonna sink him and everything he’d worked for since.

As intended.

He fished the slip of paper Elize had left on Kara’s pillow from his breast pocket, his fingers shying from the braid coiled beside it. Entwined E’s on the letterhead and beneath the monogram, a set of coordinates with four damning words.

 

40°49’26.99” N-73°55’20.99” W

Queen takes pawn.

Check.

 

Elize…Enoch…the twins were just pieces, not who he’d been playing against. Cal stroked a heavy hand over his mustache. Knowing the message for the invitation it was.

Jane had made her move, and now it was his. For better or worse, the endgame had begun.



**Don’t miss the rest of the series!**


Find out more at the Author’s Website!

https://aknevermore.com/books/

 

**FREEBIE ALERT! – Get the prequel- Breeder FREE!!**

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

 


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

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

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

 

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Kindred Schemes


One bookish debutante. 

Two dashing suitors.

 And a season full of scandal.


Kindred Schemes

Schemes Book 1

by R. K. Harrington

Genre: Historical Regency Romance

 



One bookish debutante. Two dashing suitors. And a season full of scandal.

Lady Alaina Sinclair never expected London society to be so treacherous—or so tempting. She has always preferred books to ballrooms, but with a disastrous start to her first season, she’s determined to rewrite her fate. With her heart set on the respectable—and very eligible—Duke of Ashford, Alaina is ready to embrace society’s expectations… even if it means silencing her true desires.

Alaina’s world is set awry by Christopher Kendall, the Marquess of Rochester—sharp-tongued, maddeningly handsome, and inconveniently, the duke’s closest friend. Their first encounter is a disaster. Their next, a temptation. And every moment together after that, increasingly impossible to ignore. But with a web of secrets, jealous relatives, and mysterious threats unraveling around her, it soon becomes clear: this is no ordinary season.

Kindred Schemes is a modern take on a regency romance with glamour, a steamy love triangle, and enough mystery to keep readers turning the page.

 

What readers are saying:

“The story’s central love triangle will delight romance fans…Harrington excels in crafting multidimensional characters…[A] satisfying blend of romance, intrigue, and character-driven storytelling.” — Booklife 

 

An entertaining period love story, nicely balancing breathless lust with social satire and high-mindedness.” — Kirkus Reviews

 

“The characters are colorful and sharply etched…the prose has a droll, Austen-esque verve to it, using pompously polite palaver to reveal the crassness of high society…In keeping with the style is the spirit of the book’s message—that true love triumphs over mercenary calculation. Readers will root for the feisty Alaina to overcome the stuffed shirts and find her heart’s desire.” — Kirkus Reviews 

 

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London, 1809

Oh no, here he comes, the lascivious Lord Finch and his merry band of drunken fools. Alaina looked out at the crowded ballroom, her eyes connecting with the group of men making their way toward its center. Alaina had only been at the ball for a quarter hour before this particular disaster struck, the leers of the men making the hairs at the nape of her neck prickle. It did not escape Alaina’s attention that Lady Barbara, Lord Finch’s sister, accompanied the group, and wore a sly smile. Hopefully, this latest encounter would be short. Surely, Lord Finch would not want to be rejected twice, let alone in front of a large crowd.

Alaina looked to her right to find her parents close at hand, thankfully, and she stood a little straighter knowing she would not face this alone.

The group of men seemed to move in unison before coming to a halt a few paces before Alaina and her family. A group of onlookers formed a circle around them as if ready to enjoy the ensuing spectacle, Lady Barbara taking her place in the throng. Alaina struggled to focus on the faces of the onlookers as she held her head high, ready to meet Lord Finch and his friends with as much dignity as she could muster. She hoped to project a more serene exterior than she currently felt, her heartbeat accelerating to such a degree that she could feel the blood rushing in her ears.

Lord Finch stepped to the fore of the now halted group, and gallantly bowed to Alaina before speaking, his voice so loud that Alaina was sure people arriving in carriages outside could hear.

“My dearest beautiful Alaina,” he started, clearing his throat before continuing, “You have set upon me quite a conundrum. I fear I have fallen madly in love with the idea of having you as my wife, and I feel you should be happy with such an arrangement. I am quite the catch, you know, especially for someone from the country, and one who likes to read.”

From behind him, Lady Barbara piped up with an added insult, “Amazing, really, that Alaina found her way out of the library to be here.” Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Alaina cringed at his easy use of her given name, devoid of any honorific, and seethed at the mockery of her character. Lord Finch and his sister sounded ridiculous, pompous, and conceited.

Alaina was frozen in place, her lips trembling in rage, and when no comment ushered forth from her lips, Lord Finch rejoined, unfazed by the one-sided nature of their conversation. “I find myself at an impasse. Shall I continue to press my suit with decorum, or should I make my feelings known to the whole world, so that you may not so easily dismiss them as you have in the past?”

A warmth crept up Alaina’s neck and touched her cheeks, giving her pale skin a glow, although one not easily perceptible in the dim light of the ballroom. She turned once again to where her parents stood, only to find that her father had disappeared, and her mother’s pale face was drawn in embarrassment as she watched her eldest child with dismay. Oh, how Alaina wished her father would have stayed; his tall frame was intimidating to a crowd, and his familiar umber eyes were always reassuring to her.

Resolved to put a stop to this farce, Alaina turned back to Lord Finch and remarked, her voice distant and strange sounding in her ears, “Lord Finch, it seems my earlier rejection of your suit did not deter you in the least, but I ask you to have a care for your surroundings.”

As the words left her mouth, Alaina watched Lord Finch’s face change, his outwardly serene expression making way for something more sinister. His smile twisted into an outright leer, and his pale green eyes seemed to burn of their own accord, the candlelight no longer just a reflection in them. He lowered to one knee and reached out his hands in supplication as he sneered, “Please, will you marry me, my lady?” The emphasis on the last word ensured that Alaina felt the insult.

Lord Finch was quickly joined by his friends, their idiocy knowing no bounds, all of them dropping to their knees in a chorus of marriage proposals, each more mocking and infuriating than the last. Soon laughter rang loudly in Alaina’s ears as the men and then the onlookers seemed to find amusement in her predicament. Her world blurred through a sheen of tears, the faces of the laughing men—now resembling something like demons—the only clear points in her vision.

Alaina glanced about to find her mother and threw herself into her open arms, shielding her from the worst of the crowd. The two women made their way to the outer edge of the ballroom and quickly to the front entrance, only stopping a moment to gather their cloaks before heading out into the cool night. Her father, having had the forethought to make his way to the exit, met them in the front drive, where he had already called for their carriage to be brought around, and not a moment too soon.

The Sinclair family hastened into the carriage, a pall falling on them as the conveyance made its way onto the main thoroughfare and toward their London townhome. Alaina squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the clip clop of the well-matched team of four, grateful for the silence of her parents, as she let tears make their way unchecked down her cheeks.

 




R. K. Harrington is a debut historical romance author, combining swoon-worthy romance with a bit of mystery. Her first novel, Kindred Schemes, is scheduled to be released February 2026.

In 2021, R. K. Harrington found that her daydreams were yearning to spill over to the written page, and, ever since, has been writing historical romance with a dash of mystery in hopes of publishing her work one day. After much editing, and long hours designing, she is gearing up to release her first novel, with many more to come!

R. K. Harrington grew up reading romance novels at a (maybe too) young age, and the stories entranced her. Give her a Happily Ever After (HEA) and there is no better book in the world. While romance books (namely historical romances) are her first love, R. K. Harrington is an avid reader of all genres. She has gone through many phases: medical mysteries, crime dramas, science fiction, romantasy, and is currently in a fantasy phase (she does do the occasional non-fiction book as well, namely history). Through every season of reading, romance books of all kinds are sprinkled liberally.

When R. K. Harrington is not writing or reading (or working her day job as an engineer), she is having fun with her husband, their kids, and her very cute dog, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Maximus. They all live in the DMV area, where the summers are hot, the winters are cold, and the two days of Spring and Fall are beautiful enough to open the windows!

 

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Find Me At The Disco

Find Me At The Disco
Diahanna Aurora Hampton
Publication date: January 8th 2026
Genres: Action, Romance

New York, 1977. Liza Collins is struggling to reconcile her relationship with her father, Will, after a lifetime of secrets and betrayal. Upon graduating from boarding school in London, Liza returns to her hometown of New York City seeking answers about her childhood that Will has largely left unanswered. Instead of answers, Liza unearths a series of illicit affairs, sham marriages, and financial troubles her father has tried to keep buried.

As Liza struggles with these findings and navigates adulthood, she meets Jennifer Blake-a woman who introduces her to a world of drugs, alcohol, and disco. In the midst of it all, Liza then discovers something about her family that she never could have imagined, clouding her judgment and sense of self. Consequently, Will is forced to either confess his mistakes or give up on his relationship with his daughter entirely.

Goodreads / Purchase

EXCERPT:

Jennifer grabbed Liza’s arm. “Let’s go boogie!”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of crowded.”

Liza stood awkwardly, watching people bump into each other. “That’s the best though, people moving their bodies against you. No one cares if you can’t dance, you just move to the beat and have fun.”

Before Liza could respond, a different song came on, Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love,” making people cheer and dance faster than before.

“Oh my God! I love this song, come on!” Jennifer squealed.

Liza let Jennifer pull her onto the dance floor. At first, she wasn’t really dancing. She kept getting shoved and pushed as she stood in front of Jennifer, who automatically moved to the beat. She tried to mimic her friend’s movements, but she felt unsure of herself as she struggled to get the right rhythm. Jennifer must have noticed Liza’s efforts, as she turned Liza around and placed her hands on her hips to help guide her. The song’s beat got easier for Liza to follow as she heard Donna Summer’s voice hum from the speakers.

Liza relaxed as the alcohol coursed through her veins. She let her body move under Jennifer’s direction and stopped overthinking. Jennifer turned Liza back around to face her, moving their bodies closer. Jennifer reached into her pocket to show Liza a few pills in a small plastic bag. She still moved to the beat when she popped one in her mouth and then promptly kissed Liza, transfer-ring a piece of the pill from her tongue to Liza’s. When Jennifer pulled away, she smirked.

After a few moments, Liza threw her head back as she felt the drug take hold. She saw the disco ball spinning above her, and the multicolored lights flashing around the club. Her vision blurred, coming in and out of focus like a kaleidoscope. Jennifer was behind her again bumping and grinding, leaving no room between them. Liza’s heart rate sped up, and she felt sweat drip down her neck. It was hot on the dance floor. Although she was breathing heavily, she continued to dance, letting the beat take over her movements.

They danced for several more songs, each one faster than the last. Liza’s skin was slick from sweat.


Author Bio:

Diahanna Aurora Hampton is a Boston based writer with a B.A. in Art Studies. Find Me At The Disco is her first novel.

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