Christian Business Nonfiction Feature: Grab Another Gear by Wayne Williams #bookreview #christian #business #leadership #rabtbooktours @grabanothergear @RABTBookTours

 

Disrupt the norm. Ignite your passion.

Business / Leadership / Religion / Christian Living

Date Published: April 15, 2026

Publisher: Lucid Books Publishing

Coasting feels comfortable until you realize it’s costing you everything. You weren’t built to settle, to grind through the motions, to let fear and exhaustion call the shots. But somewhere along the way, you got stuck. Stuck in routine. Stuck in expectations. Stuck in a version of yourself that plays it safe instead of stepping fully into who you were meant to be.

This book is your invitation to grab another gear. To stop waiting. To start moving. To rediscover the strengths, passions, and relationships that make life rich and meaningful. Because your life isn’t meant to be endured. It’s meant to be lived fully, boldly, and with impact.

In these pages, you’ll discover how to:

*Break free from the patterns that keep you stuck

*Step into your strengths and uncover what truly drives you

*Build relationships that fuel your purpose and legacy

*Stop coasting and start living with intention, passion, and courage

You have more to offer than you realize. More influence. More purpose. More fire in your soul than you’ve dared to believe. This is about unlocking your potential, making a difference in the world around you, and discovering life as it was intended for you to live.

The road is open. The next gear is yours to take. Will you join me on this journey?

Review

Grab Another Gear by Wayne Williams is an inspiring reminder that success isn't reserved for people with perfect circumstances. Some people think this is the case, but it's earned by those willing to keep pushing when challenges arise. 

Williams shares practical lessons on resilience layering in leadership and personal growth in a way that feels encouraging rather than preachy. 

His experiences add authenticity to every chapter, making the advice easy to trust and apply. 

I appreciated the straightforward writing style and the emphasis on taking action instead of waiting for the perfect moment. 

 

About the Author

 

 Wayne Williams is a guide, coach, and activator who unlocks growth in people and organizations. He's a devoted husband to his wife, Terina, and a father and grandfather who makes sure his family feels deeply loved. Wayne’s entrepreneurial drive took him from building a multi-million dollar telecom company, guiding it through near-death moments to a successful exit, to launching ventures shaped by innovation, integrity, and risk-taking. His love for the wilderness fuels his commitment to preserving traditions of pioneering, hunting, fishing, and land stewardship, while his heart for people drives him to restore lives and relationships.

Known as a disruptor at heart, Wayne leans into stuck systems and unspoken tensions, not to create chaos but to spark transformation. He thrives in complexity, cuts through noise to find what matters most, and fights to surface ideas that release others into their calling.

 

Contact Links

Website

LinkedIn

Facebook

Twitter

You Tube

Instagram

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Fiction Feature: STRINGS by Jan Merritt #contemporary #fiction #excerpt #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

Contemporary Fiction

Date Published: 11-23-2025

 

 A pandemic is spreading across the globe. A national lockdown looms in the United States. A Southern journalist sees a chance to protect her health and jumpstart her career by escaping north to a Minnesota wilderness. Feisty and wary of entanglement, she piques the interest of a bored Native American rock star on his way home.

Robby Song’s career may be on hold, but Grace Wheeler is on a mission to build hers. To Robby, she’s an intriguing challenge. To Grace, he’s a distraction she’s not ready to handle. But the brutal Northwoods winter is coming. Grace flees back south . . . to soul-searching isolation and a puzzling middle-of-the-night call.

Excerpt

PART I – THE NORTHWOODS

 

Chapter 1 – Airports

          Empty. No sounds except flight announcements and Covid precautions over the PA as Grace trekked alone through the wide, carpeted corridors, stepped onto the moving walkways, and passed the shuttered kiosks, shops, and restaurants of the Minneapolis airport. The few people she saw, behind counters or scurrying past at safe distances, wore surgical masks, except for one or two who had creative, last-minute coverings . . . red bandannas or black gaiters. The antiseptic smell of hand sanitizer hung in the air, penetrating her mask. If she closed her eyes, she could think she was in a hospital. Her hair probably reeked of the stuff. Of course, her gate was the last one. She shrugged her old, green backpack off and sank into a seat against the wall, leaning her head back and closing her eyes, hoping the flight was still happening. Except for her, the gate area was deserted. Maybe she could drift off.
But it was no good. She couldn’t sleep. She was tired, and the adrenaline had worn off, but she was growing anxious. Maybe she wasn’t as brave or capable as she’d thought. She sat up, pulled the tablet out of her backpack, and began rereading her notes from the last interview she’d done, the one with the middle school English teacher about online classes. She needed to get it written up and into her editor. She could not lose this job, her only income. A seat creaked nearby. She looked up. She hadn’t heard him walk up, but good sign, another passenger. A man was sitting with his head leaned back against the window, eyes closed, long legs stretched in front of him, a guitar case leaning against the next seat with a tan jacket thrown over it. Before long, he sat up, glanced at her over his black mask with tiny gold stars, rose, and walked to the bank of windows at the end of the concourse. He stood there, looking out, a tall, thin man all in black, with a long braid. Quite the silhouette. She looked back at her notes.
“Cozy, huh? A whole airport and just the two of us.”
She jumped. The voice was unexpected . . . and hoarse. He was six feet in front of her. She stared up at him. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Well, I try to look for the positive.” He paused and cleared his throat but didn’t turn away. “I’m going in search of coffee. If you’ll keep an eye on my things, I’ll bring you some.”  
“I’ll watch them.”
He moved the guitar and jacket to a seat in her row, then straightening, looked at her. “You want coffee or not? You didn’t actually say.”
They studied each other then, the way people do when they’re wearing masks — all eyes. His were dark, almost black, under barely arched eyebrows. They looked at her steadily . . . with a touch of amusement? Hers were brown, with the beginning of a worry wrinkle between her brows. She looked back with a serious expression.
“Sure. Black, one sugar.” She leaned over to get her wallet and noticed her toenails. She had meant to cover the chips with a fresh coat of blue polish. Oh, well.
“I’ll get it.” He walked off.
A red packet was on the carpet below his jacket. She put her tablet down on the little table between her and the next seat, walked over, and picked it up. D’Addario Guitar Strings. She placed it on the worn suede jacket, under the sleeve but visible, and went back to her notes.
                                                                                ************
          “I stopped at a hand sanitizer.”
She nearly dropped her tablet this time. “You need a bell!”
“Sorry.” He was in a seat, reaching across his guitar to place her coffee on the little table. “One of my nicknames growing up was Sneak. But you seem a little edgy.”  
          “Maybe.” She noticed his long, slender fingers and wondered if that was good for playing guitar. Her mother’d always said it helped with playing the piano. She picked up the cup and went to remove one side of her mask, but the loop was tangled in her hair. She put the cup back down. Masks were proving to be a challenge. She’d given up trying to control her hair long ago, but masks weren’t optional. Her hair was dark red, dark enough it was hard to see the red unless she was in the sun. The kind of red hair that’s big and ends up in long twirls unless you comb or brush it which only makes it a bigger, frizzy mess. She tried to free first one side of her mask, then the other, finally getting one, then a sip of coffee. She looked his way. He was watching her. “I hadn’t realized how much I needed this. Thanks.”
“You have a lot of hair.” He turned away, removed his mask with one hand, took a sip, and turned his face toward her, pausing, then going on, “I knew how much I needed it.” Leaning forward, he put his forearms on his thighs and held the coffee between his knees. He was not unattractive, in an angular, ascetic kind of way — prominent cheekbones, straight nose, full lips, and the dark eyes.
He’d bought her coffee, so she figured she should try to be sociable. “Have you come a long way?”
“Not today. Just from my apartment. But I’ve been traveling. Got in late. You?”
“This is my third airport since five this morning.”
“Sounds like you’ve come a long way. Got somebody in Duluth?” He sipped.
“I wish. I have no idea what I’m doing next.”
He raised his eyebrows and looked over at the clock. “I’d say you have about an hour and a half to figure something out.” Just then, an agent walked up to the check-in desk. 
 “Do you think they’ll take us, if it’s only us?”
“I don’t know. Probably depends on whether they need to get a plane to Duluth, for commuters. I guess we’ll see. I’ve never had this flight cancel.”
“You’ve done this before?”
He nodded, swallowing a sip of coffee. “Every four . . . six months or so. I’ve got family all around Duluth . . . and this time, I’m staying . . . a while. I figure I’m safer up there than most anywhere.”
“Me, too.”
The PA system came on. “Good afternoon passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 2514 to Duluth. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you.” The agent looked in their direction and shrugged. “If you guys are ready, you can board.”
They gathered their belongings. He noticed the strings and looked over at her, but she was putting her tablet away. As she passed him, he said, “I’m Robby.”
She replied, “Oh . . . Grace.”
 

About the Author

 

 Jan Merritt lives on the coast of South Carolina with strong ties to northern Minnesota where her dad was born. Her early life was filled with rich, but conflicting narratives. On the one hand, her dad regaled her with pioneering stories from Minnesota: Merritt boys tramping through tamarack swamps and the Northwoods, learning from their Ojibwe neighbors; surviving -60° winters; and the saga of her great-grandfather leading them to discover iron ore on the Mesabi Range only to lose that mining fortune to John D. Rockefeller in a New York City courtroom. But on the other hand, Jan’s education in an elite private girls’ school in downtown Charleston, South Carolina, led her into a privileged, old South social set she wasn’t born into, one with a different set of values. These opposing values simmered in Jan’s head.

She grew up passionate about teaching, both in the classroom and on horses. She married and had a family. Life was good, but it came to a halt when she discovered by accident that she had brain cancer. She has survived, but after the surgeries and treatments, her brain is not the same. She can’t ride or teach school, but her new brain is busy. It creates conversations. One night toward the end of Covid, Jan gave up trying to sleep and decided to write down what the people were saying … maybe if she got the chatter out of her head, she could sleep. It didn’t work but she hasn’t stopped writing. Jan has a new passion.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Goodreads

Purchase Link

Amazon

Paranormal Romance Feature: Egyptian Lovers by Isabella Jordan #teaser #excerpt #comingsoon #paranormalromance #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @ChangelingPress

Dark Paranormal Romance

Date Published: July 31, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

In the desert sands of Egypt, three lovers battle a maniacal curse. Only their love can save them.

 

Half vampire, half sphinx, Kahma roams the deserts of Egypt, praying for death -- until his lost love returns, reincarnated as archeologist Emma Bonham. But to fulfill the passion Kahma offers, Emma must part with her life.

Fascinated by the tale of Emma Bonham’s disappearance some eighty years ago, Carson Bonham comes to Egypt to unravel the mystery. But the bloody carnage of Karnak’s history has a way of repeating itself. The struggle to keep Carson alive will be a death defying act for the powerful vampire Sopdet.

Alexis Peters has no intention of returning to Egypt, until a mysterious dream lover promises endless pleasure if she will just return to him. Little does Alexis know she’s bound to her Egyptian savior, the legendary sphinx, Amenhotep…

 

Publisher's Note: Egyptian Lovers Box Set contains the previously released novellas Kahma, Sopdet, and Ardeth & Amenhotep.

 

Excerpt from Kahma

Abydos, Egypt
November 1926

Emma Bonham moaned and writhed with Corey Dunham's head between her thighs and his strong hands holding her against his busy mouth. His tongue speared deep into her moist opening, thrusting like a cock and she moaned again, but more for his benefit than from the pleasure she couldn't focus on. Slurping, wet noises filled Emma's small tent as she played along, trying to relax into a good fuck.

She just couldn't.

Emma closed her eyes and sighed blissfully at what she hoped were believable intervals as Corey's tongue fucked her. It was so hard to focus. Her mind had been spinning since they'd finally reached Abydos that evening, the most sacred site in all of Egypt.

Abydos. Emma had spent much of her life longing to see the ancient necropolis and the famous tombs there. Tombs of ancient kings, temples of ancient gods.

Her hips left the ground as Corey's fingers played with her half-swollen clit. Corey did have nice hands and fingers and he knew just what to do with them. He'd been her lover for several months now. They'd met when he'd joined the expedition that her Aunt Elspeth coordinated back in London. Corey had been on a few expeditions to Egypt before, though his experience wasn't vast. He had more than enough experience in bed for Emma, who'd had no experiences before Corey. Emma had been as curious about sex as everything else, perpetual student that she was and Corey more than satisfied her curiosity on a number of carnal acts. She was attracted to him, trusted him.

Emma wasn't in love with Corey by any means. She liked him immensely. Corey was an attentive, considerate lover and Emma enjoyed their lovemaking.

Normally.

"You taste so damn good, Emma." Corey slid a finger into her pussy to replace his darting tongue. "I want you to come for me."

The heavy canvas of the tent rippled as the strong winds whipped around it in the desert beyond. It was just one more thing to break Emma's concentration. She began to wonder if a sandstorm was coming. Emma also wondered if she'd ever see a sandstorm. Emma could play along and fake it but she didn't want to do that to Corey. Sighing, Emma pulled herself up, surprising Corey enough that he pulled his fingers from her sheath. Before she could say anything, a desperate cry ripped open the tranquility of the night.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The frantic male cry had Corey, who was mostly dressed, on his feet and Emma scrambling to find her discarded robe. Pulling it on as fast as she could, Emma stayed right on Corey's heels as he sped out of the tent. Naked beneath the robe she held tightly to herself and with her hair flying wildly about her, Emma struggled to keep up with him as he raced toward the tent of Alan Burns, the expedition leader and her friend. The rest of their group had already gathered there.

Peering over the shoulder of Alice Henderson, one of the artists in their expedition, Emma spotted the group's writer kneeling over Alan's unmoving body in the sand. Frantically, Daniel Woods pressed his fingers to Alan's throat, searching for signs of life.

"He's dead," Daniel announced, his face stricken.

A bolt of shock and fear shot through Emma. Alan was dead? How could that be? Emma was as fond of the kind older gentleman as her Aunt Elspeth. If not for him, Emma's aunt would never have allowed her to go on the expedition. Her aunt's confidence in Alan Burns and his vast knowledge of Egypt and all its sites had won out in the end. That and the man's solemn promise to her aunt that he'd watch over Emma and keep her safe.

Tears stung the back of Emma's eyes. This is horrible.

Alice started to sob quietly in front of Emma while Corey pushed his way past the others and into the tent. Emma watched as Corey joined Daniel in searching the fallen man's body for any clues as to what had killed him. The wind ripped at Emma's robe and hair from where she stood just outside the tent as tears slid down her face. Holding her breath just like the others, she waited.

Corey's features turned hard and he pointed to the older man's ankle.

"What is it?" Emma called out to Corey.

Corey seemed not to hear her at first. He started searching the sand around him, his eyes round and filled with alarm.

"A snake bite." Corey's green eyes met Emma's. "It looks like an asp bite. What an asp is doing out here, I don't know. They usually stick to the shrubs and hillsides. They are not desert dwellers."

"Perhaps it got into Alan's bags in Cairo," Daniel suggested.

Corey nodded. "It's possible."

"Dear God in Heaven." Alice, with her stout little body, took a step back and bumped into Emma. "It could still be here."

All eyes flew to the ground, searching the sand in the dim light provided by the fires that burned inside the circle of their tents.

"Watch your step." Corey's voice took on a more authoritative tone as he met the eyes of each of the remaining members of the group in turn. "Be mindful of this. Check your blankets before you go to sleep and check your clothing before you put it on. Reach into your bags with caution."

Dashing out of the tent and to her side, Corey gently took Emma's arm. "I'll see you to your tent."

With Alan gone, Corey had to take charge now. Emma easily read the tension in the hard set of his face, felt it in the hand that lightly gripped her arm. Corey was older than her, but still young, only in his late twenties. He'd never led an expedition before. He'd told her that he'd never been to Abydos before either. All that considered, he still had more experience in exploring Egypt than anyone else in the group.

Corey gently turned her to face him when they reached her tent. With gentle fingers, he brushed at the tears on her face.

"I am sorry about Alan." Corey pulled her into his arms, holding her against his hard, warm body. "I wish I could stay here with you, but I can't. I, at least, want to know where you are and that you're safe. Emma, be careful and try to get some rest."

Emma was vaguely aware of his hands smoothing her hair, the warm kisses he dropped on her head. She didn't even care that he was holding her in such a familiar way in plain sight of the others. Surely, they had to know Corey was her lover by now.

Yet, so many emotions gripped her heart with a tightly closed fist. She'd just lost a dear friend. If that weren't bad enough, they'd also lost the one person in the expedition who'd been to Abydos before and knew how to get back. How to survive here...

What will become of us now?

Corey pulled back to gaze down into her face, his expression grave. "Go to your tent now, Emma. Try to rest."

Emma nodded, not envying Corey the position in which he now found himself. Now he was responsible for the remaining six expedition members: three artists, a writer, an organizer and Emma.

�"What will we do now?" Emma gently brushed a lock of his brown hair from his creased forehead.

"First we have to take care of Alan," Corey explained. "We'll talk about the rest in the morning."

Brushing her lips with the lightest of kisses, Corey turned and headed back to the dead man's tent. Emma watched him, her heart heavy in her chest.

An image of Alan Burns' gentle smile flashed in her mind. When he smiled he had always reminded her of her father who'd died when she was just a child. He had taken on the role of father figure to Emma as she'd gotten to know him over the years. She was going to miss Alan, and Aunt Elspeth would be devastated when she learned of his death.

Little chance she'd get any rest this night.

A strong wind blew Emma off balance before she could enter her tent, stinging her skin lightly with grains of sand. She stumbled but didn't fall as the air whistled around her body in the strangest way.

Being a native of London, Emma was used to cold winds that chilled a person to their bones and made them shiver for hours. This was something else entirely. This wind was hot and moved across her skin like a lover's hand, touching her. That was the only way to describe it. A warm rush of wind penetrated the thin fabric of her robe and blew between her thighs, causing her own intimate scent to rise up and fill the air around her. Emma gasped at the unexpected way her body responded as the wind moved all about her, the way her clit began to throb. Emma's nipples beaded hard and her skin tingled all over her body.

Then Emma heard a gentle voice on the wind as the air swirled around the sensitive flesh of her throat, blew through her hair. A deep male voice.

Senin.

As quickly as the wind had risen it was gone, leaving Emma standing there shaken and lost just outside of her tent. Had she just imagined that? Was her mind playing tricks on her in her grief?

Or had the wind really coveted her body like a lover?

Pulling the thin robe tightly about herself, Emma climbed into her tent and willed her limbs to stop shaking.

 

 

About the Author

Isabella Jordan is the alter ego of an otherwise stressed out web designer, programmer, and internet junkie. When she's not trying to perfect her own personal caffeine IV drip, she enjoys spending time with her family, doing volunteer work, and writing. She loves creating new stories of all kinds and chatting with readers and friends.

Isabella would love to hear from her readers!

 

Author Website

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today

Western Fiction Feature: Rathuun - King of the Prairie by David Fitz-Gerald #bookreview #western #historical #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTorus

Frontier & Pioneer Western Fiction; US Historical Fiction; Action/Adventure

Date Published: March 20, 2026

 

With all the swagger of a classic western, a legendary buffalo claims his rightful place among the genre's most iconic heroes.

Meet Rathuun. Born in an idyllic canyon, tragedy strikes on his first day. A grizzly bear scatters the herd, devours his twin, and leaves him to shiver and die. But the buffalo calf with a white spot on his chin survives.

The plains are changing fast. Wagons roll west in endless streams. Telegraph wires stretch across the horizon. Locomotives scream down polished rails, slicing through the earth. Extinction

seems imminent when everyone wants to kill the biggest buffalo on the prairie. Native people shoot arrows and drive herds over cliffs. Hide hunters slaughter millions. An obsessed buffalo assassin is determined to wipe them all out and change the world forever. There's an army of barking rifles, and they're all pointed at Rathuun.

Will the hunters take Rathuun's head and leave his carcass to rot on the prairie?

This sweeping epic thunders across the American West, taking listeners to unforgettable western landmarks. If you like classic westerns, thrilling action, and high-stakes historical adventures, grab your copy by the horns.

Welcome to the prairie!

Review

Rathuun: King of the Prairie is a captivating blend of adventure and western historical times.

David Fitz-Gerald creates a historical scene where the prairie itself feels alive. There is danger and mystery laced throughout the story. 

The pacing keeps the story moving while allowing enough time to appreciate the rich and scenic world  and everything happening in it. 

Loyalty and leadership were woven naturally into the narrative. It's a great read that was a lot richer in history than I was expecting.

About the Author

David Fitz-Gerald writes frontier and pioneer western fiction from the wilds of western Vermont—about as far west as you can get without slipping into New York.

Though he’s never wrangled beeves to market, Dave was a top hand on his grandfather’s dude ranch in the Adirondack Mountains… before he turned ten. He’s lived most of his life on dirt roads. Whenever he gets the chance, he travels west to recharge his spirit on the windswept prairies.

He’s an Adirondack 46’er which means that he’s hiked to the top of every mountain in the park. In 2018, Dave completed the 1960s fitness craze by hiking 50 miles in one day. That’s one heck of a long walk, but not nearly as grueling as the iconic trails that he chases in his fiction.

Even after all these years, Dave still has his head in the clouds like Ken from MY FRIEND FLICKA, and a quiet, self-reliant spirit like Sam from THE TRUMPET OF THE SWAN. That blend of wonder, heart, and spirit runs through the characters he portrays. His editor states he is “exceptionally good at creating real moments between characters”—and readers seem to agree.

Dave’s breakthrough series, Ghosts Along the Oregon Trail won Chanticleer’s Grand Prize for Book Series. He’s now the author of nearly twenty novels and counting, and as long as there’s coffee in the kitchen, Dave will be plotting one adventurous story after another.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Goodreads

Bookbub

Purchase Link

https://mybook.to/RathuunKingofPrairie

 

Historical Fiction Feature: Uprising (Book One of the Fitzjohn Duology) by J.E. Rizzo #comingsoon #historical #speculative #excerpt #rabtbooktours @RABTBooktours

Book One of the Fitzjohn Duology

Historical Fiction with Speculative and Romantic Elements

Date Published: 09-01-2026

Publisher: Literary Wanderlust

England, 1381 AD: Blanche Fitzjohn is an outcast in her small coastal village. Not only is she the illegitimate daughter of John of Gaunt, the man responsible for her neighbors’ over-taxation, but she possesses strange abilities: hearing sound from miles away and smelling people’s emotions.

She takes solace in her studies with the local wisewoman and in her friendship with Geoff, a groom at the local manor. Until the day Henry of Lancaster, Blanche’s half-brother, brings her news of an arranged marriage to Sir Thomas Prescott, Constable of the Tower of London. Although she smells cruelty on him, Blanche agrees to marry Thomas in the hopes that her influence may help better the lives of Geoff and all England’s villeins.

But soon, the peasants’ discontent turns to revolt. Though her heart is of the people, Blanche’s nobility makes her an enemy to the rebels. To save herself and Henry from the executioner’s ax, Blanche must use every power at her disposal, even those she once considered a curse.

Chapter Six Excerpt

 

Something shifts, like summer’s green leaves transforming to autumnal gold. Speaking with Geoff about my marriage hurts like I’d never expected, a deep ache. The moon thrums, and an owl, perched in a nearby tree, shifts as she searches for prey. My temples throb.

“It seemed…” he begins again. “It seemed he didn’t want to marry you, after you…” I glare and cross my arms before lifting my face. He continues: “I thought perhaps you could get out of it because…”

“Because of what?”

“Because, ye’re…”

“What, Geoff, what am I?”

His mouth opens like a fish above water, and he doesn’t bother to shut it. In the tree, the owl flaps her wings and leaps into the air.

“Ye’re…” The tips of Geoff’s fingers flutter. “Well, I don’t know what you are, Dandy. Ye’re just…yerself. And I thought—”

“You thought he wouldn’t want me?”

His face falls. “He’s not like you, Dandy. That’s all. He’s not a good man. I heard him talking, when it was just the men…”

He drops his eyes and his cheekbones redden.

Neither of us seems to know what to say next. After a full minute of silence, he lurches forward and grasps my shoulders, crushing me to his chest. “Blanche, just consider.”

I gasp and have to steady myself. But within seconds, tears come to my eyes, along with a calming release of tension. I grip his forearms, inhale his familiar scent. He’s always smelled of horses, with a hint of bread dough and sugar from the manor kitchens he’s constantly raiding. There’s something different tonight. I sniff. It’s crisp, yet soft. Evergreens in winter, covered with fresh snow.

He buries his nose in my hair. “You could refuse,” he says, voice a gentle rumble against my face, “and stay with yer mother. She’d be angry, yes, but she wouldn’t throw you out. They can’t drag you to the church. For a marriage to be real, you must consent.”

Consent. The word ripples through me. It makes me see that I want more, from Maman, from my father, but most of all from Geoff. I need something I can’t identify, something I can’t express.

“If I marry Thomas…” My muffled voice breaks. “It will make the duke happy. He’ll…” I tense, regretting my words.

“He’ll what?”

I can’t answer, can’t tell him that by marrying Sir Thomas, I hope to earn my father’s love. To replace…something.

The moon moves behind a cloud and the trees shift, branches releasing a shower of rain. Geoff drops one hand to the small of my back and lifts the other to my cheek. His palms are warm, and I slide my own to clench his upper arms. When my fingertips brush hardened muscles, I almost snatch my hands back. Before tonight, I still thought of Geoff as a child, the lanky villein who could ride any horse, no matter how fierce. Now…my mouth goes dry, but I can’t resist running my hands up the length of his arms, letting them rest on his shoulders. The skin beneath his tunic is damp with sweat.

Corded muscles tense and stretch beneath my fingers, sending little jolts through me. He stoops, chin brushing my temple.

I touch the notch of his throat with my fingertips. He freezes. Tiny curls of dark hair peek above his collar, tickling my fingers. He lets his face linger on mine, and I feel him inhale.

A pleasant warmth spreads through my belly, then down. Something’s happening, something I don’t understand. I should run, should leave. But I don’t. Another breeze drifts through the tree branches, and he pulls me closer, pressing me to him.

I feel him, all of him, from feet to chin, in a way I never have. A tingling, heavy warmth settles on me, and I feel Geoff’s own need pressing against my belly.

It should make me uncomfortable, but I find myself pressing back, wanting more. Wanting it all.

I’m not well-versed in what happens between a woman and a man—that’s one area of my education Maman neglected—but I’m not completely ignorant. I know Geoff and I stand on a cliff, gazing into a deep ravine. One more step, and we’ll both be lost.

I’m still touching his throat, suspended in our odd dance beneath the shuddering tree branches, when he bends further. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation of his stubbly chin against my face. He exhales, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Dandy…” he murmurs.

The owl swoops to snatch a mouse from the forest floor in sharp talons. Her screech is like a battle horn, ricocheting with painful deliberation in my skull, joined by the mouse’s squeal. My eyelids snap open and I step out of his embrace.

 

About the Author

 

 J.E. Rizzo is a life-long history fanatic and writer of historical fiction, and her work can be found in Vanity Fair, The Boston Globe, The Guardian, The Tudor Times, Tudor Life Magazine, Scary Mommy, and Ultrarunning Magazine. Rizzo won Manuscript Academy’s Agent Choice Award in 2024, and her article Past and Precedence: Abortion Law in the Middle Ages and Its Use to Overturn Roe v. Wade won History Inquiry’s Medieval History Writing Challenge.

By day, Rizzo works in Human Resources—a field offering more than ample opportunity to observe the follies and fancies of humankind. Before her career in HR, Rizzo worked as an opera singer, a professional baker, and a dog walker. These days, when not writing she can be found running ultramarathons through the forests and mountains of New England, knitting, reading, sewing, baking, or performing any number of (what some might call) old-lady hobbies. She also keeps busing caring for her two children and forty-seven houseplants, making her husband carry heavy things and cook her gourmet meals, and rehabilitating her rescue dog and semi-feral ginger cat.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Blog

Goodreads

Instagram

BlueSky

Preorder Today

Amazon

Mystery Romance Feature: A Deadly Inferno Consumes by Sophie Barnes #releaseday #newbooks #mystery #romance #rabtbooktours @BarnesSophie @RABTBookTours

House of Croft, Book 6

Murder Mystery Romance

Date Published: July 28, 2026

A chilling disappearance, a lethal enemy, and a family pushed to the brink…

 

When the Duke of Wrengate’s sister vanishes without a trace, suspicion swirls. Did she flee to escape a scandalous secret…or has she been abducted? Whispers lead to a treacherous underworld, where rumors of an illicit auction suggest a far more sinister fate: a woman trapped, drugged, and enslaved. Determined to save her, Adrian Croft and his valet, Murry, plunge into London’s darkest corners.

But Finn O’Leary, the Irishman bent on revenge, remains a threat that presents a difficult choice for Adrian: save Wrengate's sister or protect his family. With the recent birth of his daughter, he and his wife, Samantha, have more to lose than ever before. And as danger closes in, they must fight with everything they have. Not only for justice, but for their very survival.

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author Sophie Barnes writes historical romance novels in which the characters break away from social expectations in their quest for happiness and love. Having written for Avon, an imprint of Harper Collins, her books have been published internationally in eight languages. With a fondness for travel, Sophie has lived in six countries, on three continents, and speaks English, Danish, French, Spanish, and Romanian with varying degrees of fluency. Ever the romantic, she married the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses.

When she’s not busy dreaming up her next swoon worthy romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, practicing yoga, baking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

YouTube

Twitter

Instagram

Pinterest

Bookbub

Goodreads

BookBuzz

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

BN

iTunes

Kobo

Smashwords

Horror Feature: Only Angels Have Blue Eyes by J. Todd Kingrea #excerpt #comingsoon #horror #suspense #rabtbooktours @JToddKingrea @RABTBookTours

Horror / Suspense

Date Published: 08-03-2026

Things are looking up for Maylin Cole and her 4-year-old daughter, Margo. Fleeing an abusive relationship, the private clinic Heaven’s Hope offers shelter and the promise of a new life. Led by the charismatic and beguiling Seraph Nakir, they learn a surprising truth: they’re actually angels who have lost their way.

Everyone has an angel name and is being prepared to ‘ascend’ when the time is right. Their angelic identities will play a significant role in aiding humanity when the world ends.

As the weeks pass, Maylin becomes accustomed to the peculiar confrontational therapy. The black curtains and bars on the windows no longer trouble her. The lack of privacy, mystifying theology, and strange rules become commonplace. She sees Margo less frequently since the children are kept in the basement.

The death of another patient awakens Maylin to dark secrets within the walls, and soon the horrifying truth about Nakir and Heaven’s Hope is revealed. Maylin must confront her insecurities, rediscover her individuality, and use her wits and resources if she hopes to save Margo and the other children.

Inspired by a true crime case, this slow-burn thriller roars to a pulse-pounding climax, reminding the reader to think independently, ask questions, and be careful who you trust.

Excerpt

Maylin stared at Nakir in disbelief. “I…I can’t do this.”

“Administer Uriel’s punishment. Now,” he replied.

Maylin looked at the man’s back as he knelt before the fireplace like a monk at an ancient altar. Then she looked back at Seraph Nakir. “No. N-no way…”

Nakir tilted his head, his dreadlocks falling to one side. He scowled at her. “The injury was against you,” he said. “So, it is only right that you be the one to dispense his punishment.”

She shook her head, eyes still wide, and thrust the poker toward Nakir.

He refused it. “You must, my daughter. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. His bruises for your bruises. Go ahead. Begin.”

“No, no—this isn’t right. It’s not—”

“Carry out the punishment!” Seraph Nakir bellowed, stepping forward to tower over her.

 

About the Author

J. Todd Kingrea is the author of "With A Blighted Touch" and The Deiparian Saga ("The Witchfinder," "The Crimson Fathers," and "Bane of the Witch"). He has also authored two non-fiction books, two short stories, and role-playing game scenarios. When not writing, he enjoys collecting and watching movies, reading, and prowling through dusty old bookstores. He and his wife live in Galax, Virginia.

You can find him online at www.jtoddkingrea.com, on Facebook, X, and Instagram. Stay in touch at jtoddkingrea@yahoo.com.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Instagram

Preorder Today