Spotlight: The Last Summerville by Annabelle Lewis

Publication date: September 1st 2026

Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller, Romance, Suspense, Thriller

Twenty-two-year-old Georgia Parker already carries more regret than most people twice her age. Practically an orphan, she’s reeling from the death of her grandmother, Mimi, the one person who made her feel safe from the chaos of her mother’s world. Alone in Carson City, Nevada, Georgia is determined to start over, to stand on her own. Yet Mimi’s final words echo in her mind: Take risks. Trust people again. Be brave.

Then Heath Summerville steps into her life—charming, magnetic, protective, and so perfectly attuned to her needs it feels like fate. But the closer Georgia gets, the more she feels the pull of something she can’t name—something just beneath the surface of his charm.

Strange silences. Half-truths. High-society circles and an ancestral house that feels more like a trap than a refuge.

Lies are waiting to unravel. And by the time Georgia sees the truth, it might already be too late.

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

“Get me out of this godforsaken town and back to civilization,” Vicky grumbled.

Georgia, behind the wheel, glanced at her mom, Vicky, who was shakily applying lipstick while looking in a handheld compact mirror. Vicky clicked it shut, then pulled down the passenger visor, only to find the old car devoid of a larger mirror. She swatted it back up, then garbled a sound of exasperation before diving back into her purse in search of something else. 

Georgia didn’t see the lure of Las Vegas like her mother did. It was one of many differences between them. “No!” she suddenly exclaimed when Vicky put a cigarette to her lips, intending to light it. “Not in the car.”

“Why are you such an old damn scold, Georgia?” Vicky scowled. “You’re twenty-two years old, for fuck's sake. Your holier-than-thou bullshit has gotten worse. Every time I see you.”

Vicky shook her head, then turned to stare out the window. Georgia swallowed back the words she wanted to throw in her mom’s face. 

Not today. Not after all they’d been through.

They spent the rest of the drive to the Carson City airport in awkward silence. Georgia pulled to the curb at the departures area and then walked to the back of the Ford Bronco to help retrieve the bags. Vicky took them, mumbled goodbye, and walked away without a hug.

“Goodbye, Mom,” Georgia called loudly as she shivered in the cold, standing next to the back of her Mimi’s Bronco. She watched Vicky drag her bag, her head bowed, her eyes already on her phone. She didn’t turn to give Georgia one last look of goodbye, nor acknowledge Georgia’s use of the tender moniker of “mom,” rather than the usual “Vicky.” It hurt. But why Georgia expected Vicky to suddenly become maternal was the bigger question. And neither of them had made falsely loving or empty promises to keep in touch. 

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About the Author

Annabelle Lewis—a pseudonym for the author—lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Regrettably? Perhaps. She still believes she’s a Texan even though the math no longer supports that. Nor her birthplace. Nor her residence. No offense, Minnesota. You’ve got your good points too, but only about six months of the year.

In her youth, Annabelle was a complete failure. Ask anyone who knew her. Any of her teachers and family would tell you this. High school graduation was a sad day for all when Annabelle walked proudly off the high school stage, her thoughts consumed with boys, beer, and after-parties, and later into the arms of her parents. Her father’s laughter and singular remark? “I didn’t think you’d make it. Get a job at the post office, they have a good retirement plan.”

A high bar and words to live by, but Annabelle wanted more. She needed to flunk out of college too. But damn, she sure did have a good time. Trivial arrest records not-withstanding, it was a growth period for our girl. And if you look closely, you’ll see a bit of what was to come when she majored in criminal justice. Her lifelong aspiration was to become a judge. Hmm.

For better or worse, Annabelle didn’t graduate from college but did find gainful employment and a fulfilling career. This path ended when she became a mom. Married to her wonderful George, who to this day can hardly remember an actual proposal, Annabelle finally became a mother. She didn’t have a clue how hard she would need to work to keep those self-imposed requirements of Downey-fresh, iron-pressed sheets, home-baked meals, and mom-of-the-year awards arriving. She composed a small self-affirmation song and made her children sing it to her for money. She was a very good mom.

After clearing the largest hurdles of motherhood and regrettably, begrudgingly, and not-without-tears, launching her children onto the world, she looked around and realized she had a lot to say. Picking up a laptop, she got to work.

Annabelle spends her days continuing to tackle the challenges of motherhood, for both her humans and canines. She also writes. And reads. And cleans. And cooks. And bakes. And cleans again. She also supports her husband, George, in an administrative capacity for their small business. She’s in charge of payroll and cuts George’s checks. This leads to no marital acrimony.

In the beginning, with the blank page staring at her and possibly in a hostile mood after being literally mauled by a dog and by the world in general, she had an idea. What if she could wield a force of good upon unsuspecting evil-doers? What if she had the resources to get the job done without dealing with committee and anyone else’s whiney-ass opinions? 

It was gold. It took off. Annabelle sat down and began to write and couldn’t stop. To date, having written over a million words in the Carrows Family Chronicles and her second series on the Boston Clairvoyants, several items have become quite clear. Annabelle had a lot to say. Annabelle really enjoys writing. And although she hates all things technology, she begrudgingly pounds her head on her desk daily as obstacles are thrown in her path. Almost a hero. 

Since entering her world of make-believe, she has rebelled against all intrusion of real-world responsibilities. Her house is a mess, but she tries. Her family is fed, but more often than not, on takeout. She vows to shower every day, but no, it’s a vow she’ll never keep. Her friends are neglected, but not in her heart. 

Read her mordacious blog! Read her books! Follow her on social platforms! Sign up for her newsletter! These are all good things. What are you waiting for? Jump into bed with Annabelle. She’s having a swell time. You should join her. theannabellelewis.com annabellelewisauthor@gmail.com IG and Twitter: alewisauthor 

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Spotlight: Silver Bells, Single Bed by Paula Dombrowiak

(Hollow Reign, #2)

Publication date: September 1st 2026

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

My bandmate’s little sister is off-limits.

Then a Christmas blizzard traps us together in Chicago with only one bed.

After months on tour, all I want is to get home for Christmas. Instead, a winter storm strands me in Chicago with Harper Beaumont, a rising ballet star with everything on the line, including the lead role in her company’s production of The Nutcracker.

With both our flights canceled and Harper watching her dream disappear, I do the one thing I absolutely shouldn’t do—convince her to experience the Christmas magic of Chicago.

Somewhere between sparkling lights, one forbidden kiss, and a snow-covered city, Harper stops being my bandmate’s little sister…

and becomes the woman I can’t stop wanting.

When the only hotel room left has one bed, resisting her becomes impossible, sspecially when she asks me to be her first.

One night with Harper is hot enough to melt the Christmas snow but when morning comes and my bandmate finds out I crossed the line with his sister…

I have to decide if I’m brave enough to risk everything for the woman I was never supposed to have.

Silver Bells, Single Bed is Book 2 in the Hollow Reign Christmas Novellas—a series of interconnected, steamy holiday romances that can be read in any order.

Excerpt

“Sir, we need to check your bag.”

Fuck. I move out of the way while the agent unzips the main compartment, feels around the edges, then reaches into the side pocket. He frowns and pulls out something bright pink and unmistakably shaped like an exceptionally large cock.

What the actual fuck?

Motherfucking Casey!

As if this day can’t get any worse, it turns on, vibrating in his hand. I tilt my head towards the ceiling, though instead of looking for some divine intervention I’m imagining wringing Casey’s scrawny little neck. 

“Anything with batteries needs to be taken out of your bag,” he says, like he sees this shit all the time. 

The vibrator is getting attention from everyone around me. A teenager whips out his phone and starts filming.

Great. This is gonna be on the internet in about thirty seconds. Merry fucking Christmas to me.

“That’s not mine.” Which is exactly what every person in the history of air travel who’s been caught with a vibrator at airport security has said. 

“It was in your bag, sir,” he says unimpressed.

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Apparently my friend,”—and I say that loosely—“thinks he’s hilarious.” The agent just stares at me while the vibrator dances in his hand. “Fucking Casey,” I mutter under my breath. 

A little kid tugs on his mom’s sleeve and asks what that noise is. She steers him away without answering.

The agent unceremoniously switches it off with a click and drops it back into my bag. “You’re free to go,” he says, waving me out of the line.

I zip the bag shut and get the hell out of there as fast as I can. 

I’m gonna murder him.

There’s a nine-foot Christmas tree all decorated near the food court. I order a slice of pizza, drop into a seat, pull out my phone, and send a text to our group chat.

Liam: Casey you absolute fucking menace.

Casey: Found my Christmas gift? 

Liam: No. TSA found it you asshole.

Casey: 😂😂😂 wish I could have seen that.

I take a bite of my pizza.

Casey: Oh wait. I didn’t need to be there.

He sends a link to a TikTok. Goddamn. That kid at the TSA line. It’s already racking up views. 

Liam: I hate you.

Casey: Geez. Try to do something nice for a guy and this is the thanks I get 🙄

Phoenix: #vibratorgate

Theo: the comments lmao ☠️

Fuck, what are people saying? 

Nope, don’t care. 

I flip my phone face down and finish off my pizza. I stare at the phone. Jesus. Against my better judgment, I pick it up and flip through the comments.

@fangedfangirl: Sir that’s not a drumstick 😭

@moshpitdiaries: Even TSA getting backstage access now

@screaminginrow3 Reply to @moshpitdiaries: more like backdoor access 🤣

@distortedheart: Security said vibe check failed

I put my phone away and pull my hat lower. I’m gonna need therapy and a new identity by New Year’s.

A woman across from me glances down at her phone, then looks up at me. She nudges her husband.

I grab my bag and get up before anyone else connects the dots. Weaving through the crowds, I pass the wreaths and garlands lining the corridor on my way to a gift shop. I briefly consider buying a scarf or a hoodie, but who am I kidding? I’d just look like a guy who got stopped with a vibrator by TSA.

A small jazz ensemble is set up along the corridor, playing a smooth rendition of “White Christmas” and I stop to listen. Travelers are passing by in a rush, but for me, everything slows down. It’s two days before Christmas, and I just want to get home in time. 

I turn to leave, and that’s when I notice her. The woman from the security line, standing in front of one of the departures monitors with her back to me.

She’s in boots and tights, with legs stretching on forever beneath the hem of her skirt, the kind of gorgeous that makes a grown man walk into glass doors.

“Shit!” 

Or magazine racks. I catch it before it topples, shoving a scattered copy of People back into place while the guy at the newsstand gives me an annoyed look. Smooth, Liam. Real smooth.

I straighten up, the magazine rack wobbling behind me. There’s something about her that makes me want to walk over and say something. I don’t even know what. I just know that if I keep walking, I’m going to regret it.

The noise makes her turn around and I almost fall into the magazine rack again. 

It’s Harper Beaumont, my bandmates little sister. 

The one fucking person in this entire world I have absolutely no business looking at the way I just did. This can’t be happening. As if Casey hasn’t already fucked me over enough today. Now this?

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About the Author

Paula Dombrowiak grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois but currently lives in Arizona. She is the author of Blood and Bone, her first adult romance novel which combines her love of music and imperfect relationships. Paula is a lifelong music junkie, whose wardrobe consists of band T-shirts and leggings which are perpetually covered in pet hair. She is a sucker for a redeemable villain, bad boys, and the tragically flawed. Music inspires her storytelling.

For more ways to learn about Paula and her books, check out her website: @www.pauladombrowiak.com

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Spotlight: The Truth Chamber by Duncan Ritchie

Duncan Ritchie’s “The Truth Chamber” is a no-holds-barred speculative fiction novel that takes the decline of American democracy to frightening ends. In an election year marred by violence, democratic candidate Anna Hoffman warns a divided America that the country will devolve into a Russia 2.0 if her rival, Mack Leach (the Red Caesar), wins the White House. After a confrontation with a book burner, Admiral Liam Driscoll joins Anna’s team, and he recruits a Stanford PhD student developing an AI technology called the Truth Chamber to figure out who is behind the escalating violence and an assassination attempt on Anna. Can the truth save America? Or will the Red Caesar bring an end to democracy as we know it? 

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About the Author

Duncan Ritchie is a former (recovering) investment banker and author of the political thriller “The Truth Chamber.” Concerned by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the rise of right-wing extremism, Duncan began scribbling down what-if scenarios in 2022—at the time, many seemed outlandish. At the core were the questions: if someone wanted to bring America to her knees and disturb the world order, how would they go about it? And what could be done to counter that? Those what-ifs became the foundation of “The Truth Chamber,” initially intended as a warning of the rise of fascism in the United States. Duncan lives in Tasmania with his Malinois pup, Aletheia (Alé), who thinks he’s slightly mad. Learn more at: https://www.duncanritchie.com and follow Duncan on Bluesky: @duncanritchie.bsky.social and Instagram: @duncan.ritchie

Spotlight: Dragon Descending by Jennifer Allis Provost

(Fire and Claw, #2)

Publication date: September 1st 2026

Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

Dragons value family above all else—but when a dragon shifter can’t shift, how will he protect the ones he loves?

Lochlyn Blackmoor, the last dragon shifter in Alessia, has lost his ability to shift. Heartened by a prediction that he will shift again, Lochlyn retreats to Dragon Ridge with his beloved wife, Rosalie. They’re content to enjoy a quiet life, until they receive unsettling news from the capital city.

The king’s seer has been marked for death, all because she helped him free Rosalie’s sister from the king’s clutches.

Despite his current weakness, Lochlyn embarks on a mission to rescue the seer with his brother-in-law and spymaster in tow. Almost immediately, one of their few allies—Arthus Flameborn, Grand Master of the Order of the Phoenix, who also happens to be Rosalie’s grandfather—abandons them. As they run out of time and options, Lochlyn turns to a former foe for assistance: Basilisk, the same rogue shifter he freed from the Order’s dungeon, and nearly killed him.

Basilisk proves himself a worthy ally, and his vast knowledge Alessia’s royal family comes in handy more than once. As more of Basilisk’s past is revealed, Lochlyn learns Alessia’s darkest, most dangerous secret, information so deadly It could unravel everything he’s ever known. To make matters worse, the ruthless Grand Master wants to form a relationship with his granddaughter, Rosalie, and he doesn’t care who he hurts in the process—not even Rosalie.

And only a dragon can overpower the Grand Master.

Excerpt

The sun had barely crept over the horizon when Curran jogged down the castle steps. When he woke his blood had been rushing through his veins, and he wanted to use the sunrise as cover to shift into his phoenix form. Granted, Dragon Ridge was far from Serpens, and it was unlikely that word of a phoenix flying above the remote mountains would get back to his father. But Curran had been careless once, and that led to his and Caterina’s capture. He wouldn’t risk his princess’s safety again.

Curran walked toward the stables, intending to visit his horse, Barleymane, before he shifted. As he passed through the herb garden, he heard Rosalie’s voice. He walked toward where he’d heard her, and saw her standing in front of a thatch of dried out grasses shaking out her hand.

“Balls,” she muttered, then she blew on her fingers.

“Something wrong?” he asked, as he stepped onto the path. “Why are you out here so early?”

“No, I . . .” She looked at her hands and frowned. “I’m trying to make my fire come when I call. It seems to have a mind of its own.”

“You’ve called your fire before.” He remembered watching her shift to warrior form when they’d been attacked by the basilisk outside the palace. She’d reminded him so much of Aurielle in that moment, her bravery on full display as her body burned brighter than the sun. “What makes you think you won’t be able to call it again?”

“Yesterday, after Lochlyn cut the lead charm out of Devlin’s neck, I tried to cauterize the wound,” she began. “But nothing happened, and I haven’t been to call it in so long. What if . . . what if my fire never comes back?”

“That won’t happen,” Curran said, then he sat on the ground. “Sit with me?”

“All right,” she agreed, sitting in front of him. “What are we doing down here?”

“We’re having a lesson,” he replied. “My fire wouldn’t come for the longest time. My mother and Auri assumed I was latent, which would be unusual being that my parents are so powerful. Mama wanted me to be patient and wait for my fire to find its own way out, but I hated waiting.”

“Me too,” Rosalie said. “How old were you when it manifested?”

“Almost eight,” he replied. “Auri would sit with me just like this, and try to coax the fire out of me. If not for her, I may never have found it.” He extended his hand. “Want to try?”

“Yes,” Rosalie said as she placed her hand in his. “What do we do?”

“Watch.” Curran lit a single flame on each of his fingers; since he and Rosalie were blood relations, his fire wouldn’t harm her. “Feel how each flame is different?”

When Rosalie nodded, he extinguished the flames, then he held up his hand with his palm toward her. “Put your hand against mine.” She did, and he lit one flame at the tip of his index finger. “Close your eyes, and feel the flame. Not just the heat, but how it’s moving between our skin.”

She let her eyes close. “It feels . . . it feels like water flowing between us. But it’s sharper than water.”

“Very good. Now search for that feeling inside yourself.”

Her brow pinched. “What if I can’t find it?”

“Then we try a different way.” Curran regarded his niece. She didn’t look very much like his sister, but Rosalie resembled Aurielle in many other ways. One of those ways was what Curran once called stubbornness.

“You’re determined like your mother,” Curran said. “Auri was one of the strongest warriors I’ve ever known, and not just physically. Her mind was just as strong as her body, and if she couldn’t defeat an obstacle one way, she would come up with a new plan and try again. Auri never would have let a few flames get the better of her, and I don’t think you will, either.”

“Mama certainly wouldn’t have let a bit of fire win,” Rosalie agreed. “I wish she was here to teach me.”

Curran grasped her hand. “I wish she were here, too. Maybe . . . maybe the best way to honor her is for you to become the phoenix she always knew you would be.”

“You think she knew,” Rosalie began, then a flame bloomed between their palms. “Curran! I did it!”

“I knew you would,” he praised, his face split by a grin. He lowered his hand, and the flame extinguished.

“That always happens,” Rosalie pouted. “Unless I’m very angry, my flames only last a few seconds.”

“Give it time,” Curran said. “The more you work with your fire, the more control you will have. After you’ve attained your warrior form a few more times, we can work on getting you to fully shift.”

“Into a full phoenix?” Rosalie traced the spot where the flame had been on her palm. “Then I could fly with Lochlyn. My mother could fully shift?”

“She could,” Curran replied. “She burned even brighter than my father.”

“That’s amazing.” A cloud passed across Rosalie’s face, and Curran worried their impromptu training session had dredged up some unpleasant memories. But the emotion passed as quickly as it appeared.

“Have you anywhere to be right now?” Rosalie asked. “Or do you have time to talk about my mother a bit more? I’d love to hear what she was like growing up.”

Curran smiled, and realized his own shift would have to wait. He had more important things to see to at the moment. “I have all the time in the world. As for what Auri was like when we were young, she was an absolute terror.”

Rosalie laughed. “She was not!”

“Oh, yes she was.”

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About the Author

Jennifer Allis Provost writes books about faeries, orcs and elves. Zombies, too. She grew up in the wilds of Western Massachusetts and had read every book in the local library by age twelve. (It was a small library.) An early love of mythology and folklore led to her romantic fantasy series, Fire and Claw, and her degree in environmental science helped shape her urban fantasy, Poison Garden. When she’s not writing about murderous plants or sexy dragon shifters she’s working on her MFA in Creative Nonfiction.

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Spotlight: The Tower of Beggars by Torsten Weitze

The first book in an immersive & addictive fantasy series from the million-copy selling phenomenon Torsten Weitze that follows the epic journey of a young protagonist with nothing left to lose.

When tragedy strikes her family, Niri finds herself penniless and alone in a city determined to turn their back on ‘her kind’.

Her only possession is also her only hope - a copper coin that grants her admission to the prestigious Stormfell Academy, renowned for its magical and combative training.

But the coin only offers her a place to sleep, and Niri must learn to adapt and fight if she is to survive the Academy – and its occupants.

The Tower of Beggars is the first enthralling instalment in the bestselling Stormfell Academy series that has captivated millions of readers in Europe, now available in the US and UK for the first time.

Welcome to the Academy . . .

Excerpt

“Are you sure?” 

His question cut through her confidence like a sharp blade. She hesitated and looked at her companion. Bloodied, with torn clothes and that characteristically unreadable expression in his eyes, he stood there, amidst one of the numerous ruins of Countless Cairns. The dilapidated building in which they would take the first, tentative steps of their uncertain journey, had once been a palace. Had been. Which of the many extinct empires it be longed to, she could not say. Countless Cairns did not bear its name for no reason. And they were responsible for their destruction, just as those who had come before them, and those against whom they would now conspire. 

“Am I sure about this? I wish I could give you an honest answer,” she re plied, continuing to look around the great hall, which the man before her had carefully chosen as the stage for his defeat – just as he had chosen the expression he was now wearing on his face. Both the architecture of the pal ace and the features of the man in front of her could best be described as aristocratic. 

Columns, elegant and tall, had supported the once gold-fringed dome of the hall, through whose gaping hole the cloud-filled sky could be seen. The light drizzle that had fallen on these broken stone benches and on the overturned white granite throne lent a mournful note to this fallen place of royal power – a note which was also reflected on the features of the gaunt man before her and which coloured every aspect of him, from his carefully trimmed goatee beard to the deep furrows of exhaustion on his unnaturally symmetrical face. Only his eyes betrayed his true nature. She knew no other being on Deatril that could convey mockery, cheerfulness and sadness all at the same time. To look into his eyes was to challenge madness. 

And this, precisely, was their plan – pure madness, born out of a lack of alternatives. She drew her dagger. 

“So you do have an answer for me after all.” The sound of satisfaction in every syllable of his sentence. 

She stabbed. 

He grunted: “Damn, it has been a long time since I felt this kind of pain.” 

“I got him,” she called over her shoulder before her courage had a chance to fail her. “Come quickly.” 

“One last parting gift,” he gasped, pointing to a rectangular display case shrouded in a leather cloth beside the throne. “You know how he loves trophies. And this one he will not want to miss out on.” He reached under his deep blue brocade vest and pulled out the pendant. “There’s only one thing left to do.” 

She shuddered. Would she make the same sacrifice if she were in his place? She prayed that she would never have to find out, and suppressed a self-deprecating, almost maniacal laugh. Who would she pray to? 

A single jerk and it was done. The broken silver chain of the pendant slipped from the man’s trembling fingers and fell to the floor. The gem itself followed. 

“Quick,” she breathed as heavy footsteps sounded behind her. “He’s right here.” Again, she met the complex gaze of her ally. This time she saw agony, anticipation, and boredom reflected in his eyes. She quickly looked away. 

“Don’t wait for me. It will take a long time.” By the time she looked back at him, he was already gone. Running away was something he had always been a master of. 

“Where is he?” a voice raw with anger roared behind her. “I want to peel the skin off all his many faces!” 

She wasn’t sure if the newcomer truly meant it or had simply lost control of his emotions once again. Lately, the distinction had become increasingly blurred. This was only one of the many reasons they had begun their venture. “He’s gone. But before that, I was able to wound him and get this from him.” She pointed to the silver pendant, shaped like a heart. If you stared at it long enough, you would almost believe that the heart was slowly beating… 

“The Heart of Chaos.” Both disgust and greed resonated in the four spoken words. He stepped even closer to her. “Do you want to claim the pendant for yourself?” She heard the obligatory question. And she also heard the creaking of leather as two hands tightened around weapon grips. 

“No”, she responded, giving the only correct answer. The creaking behind her stopped. “Lock it in your seal chamber with the others.” 

“Good.” Suddenly his voice was quiet again. Deep and soft. The way it al ways sounded when he was in control of himself. 

She felt a large hand on her shoulder. Surprisingly it was not an unpleasant touch, but empathetic and forgiving. “Don’t forget why we are doing this.” 

She knew what she had to say. “May the quarrel end.” 

“Yes. May the quarrel end.”

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Torsten Weitze, born in 1976, is a native of Krefeld, Germany, where he still lives today.

Trained as a publishing clerk, he was eventually drawn to the creative side of storytelling after many years of leading a pen-and-paper role-playing group. Today, he spends much of his free time imagining new worlds and characters, bringing them to life in his fantasy novels.

He finds balance and relaxation through regular Jiu-Jitsu practice and by studying the use of traditional Japanese weapons.

His debut novel, Ahren: The 13th Paladin, was published in February 2017.

Spotlight: Storm Caller by Nisha J. Tuli

THE HEART-POUNDING SEQUEL TO THE INSTANT NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

Poet Graves has only ever wanted to be free. But no matter where she turns, she’s held captive by a power she doesn’t understand, a truth she no longer believes in, and a love she can’t deny.

As Poet is drawn further into Rook's world, his secrets force her to question who she can trust. But when friends turn into enemies, enemies prove to be allies, and the place that was once a safe harbor is revealed as the eye of the storm, Poet's only choice is to fight for what she believes in.

When New Manhattan's darkest secrets refuse to stay hidden, the cause Poet and Rook fight for will be called into question. The answers are out there…and they could destroy everything.

Don’t miss the thrilling continuation to a thrilling upper YA romantasy by Nisha J. Tuli, where Divergent meets The Cruel Prince in a glittering, storm-wrecked Manhattan where the elite rule through legacy―and one forbidden romance could tear it all apart.

The Storm Breaker trilogy is best enjoyed in order.
Reading Order:
Book 1: Storm Breaker
Book 2: Storm Caller

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About the Author

Nisha J. Tuli is a USA Today and international bestselling romance author who loves writing slow burns and plenty of yearning. When she isn’t writing or reading, she can be found in the gym or the kitchen (to eat, not to cook) or maybe knitting scarves to survive a Canadian winter. She lives in Manitoba with her husband, their two kids, and their fluffy Samoyed.

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