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Thursday, May 28, 2026

Nonfiction Feature: You're Not the Problem by Lori Montry #selfhelp #nonfiction #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 




Personal Development / Self-Help

Somatic Healing / Mind-Body Wellness

Trauma-Informed Personal Growth

Date Published: April 25, 2026



If you’ve tried to plan, push, or hustle your way out of stress and anxiety and found yourself back in the same exhausting cycles, this book is your invitation to stop blaming yourself and start understanding yourself.

In You’re Not the Problem: You’re the Possibility, you’ll learn:

  1. Why feeling stuck is not a failure, but an intelligent adaptation
  2. How your nervous system has been running the show, and how to begin creating safety and more room inside to respond
  3. How to relate to yourself in real time: see yourself, meet yourself, talk to yourself, understand yourself, and support yourself so your inner world becomes steady and trustworthy
  4. Simple, practical steps to restore your energy and reconnect with your true self


This book is your companion for the first phase of the Freedom Formula. It is the roadmap to guide you out of survival mode and into the clarity and resilience you need to create lasting change.

 


Review
This is one of those self-help books that actually feels helpful instead of overwhelming.
Lori Montry encourages readers to stop viewing themselves as broken and start recognizing the role stress, conditioning, and nervous system overload play in everyday struggles.
The tone is compassionate without being overly simplistic, and the ideas are presented in a very accessible way. 


About the Author

 


 My work centers around a simple but powerful idea: many of the patterns people struggle with are not evidence that something is wrong with them. They are adaptations created by a nervous system that has been trying to help them survive stress, pressure, and difficult experiences.

I am a somatic healing practitioner and the creator of the Freedom Formula, a framework that helps people move out of survival mode and into a life that reflects who they are. My work blends nervous system science, somatic practices, emotional processing, and mindset work to help people understand why they feel stuck and what it truly takes to create lasting change.

Before stepping into this work, I earned my law degree from Harvard Law School and spent years in high-performing environments where discipline and achievement were highly valued. From the outside, my life looked successful. Inside, I was quietly struggling with many of the same patterns my clients now describe: chronic stress, emotional eating, anxiety, and the exhausting habit of showing up for everyone else while ignoring my own needs.

Understanding the role of the nervous system changed the way I approached those patterns. Instead of seeing them as failures, I began to see them as intelligent adaptations. That realization not only transformed my own life, it became the foundation of the work I now share with others.

For more than sixteen years I have helped people understand their patterns with compassion, reconnect with their inner guidance, and build lives that feel meaningful, aligned, and sustainable. My book, You’re Not the Problem, grew out of that work and out of a deep desire to help more people experience the relief that comes from realizing they are not broken.


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Wednesday, May 27, 2026

Coming Soon: Death and the Social Climber by Winnie Simpson #comingsoon #preorder #mystery #cozymystery #rabtbooktours



Ann Audrey Mystery, Book 2


Cozy Mystery / Mystery & Detective

Date Published: 06-30-2026

Publisher: Mission Point Press


Murder Is the Ultimate Power Move


When a beautiful Atlanta woman is widowed twice under suspicious circumstances, Ann Audrey Pickering finds herself drawn—once again—into someone else’s trouble.

A former lawyer who once helped the FBI convict her own husband for fraud, Ann Audrey has settled into a reclusive life, until her longtime friend Flynn Reynolds asks for help. His elderly aunts are convinced that another nephew was murdered by his wife, Kathryn, whose second husband is now also dead. Ann Audrey is skeptical. Still, she owes Flynn, and there are some odd questions. Complicating matters is Kathryn’s latest mother-in-law, a woman who rose from an impoverished background into Atlanta’s upper circles and recognizes a kindred spirit in her dead son’s ambitious widow. She doesn’t believe Kathryn is a murderer—but she has heard rumors, and she wants them stopped.

Set in Atlanta in January 2000, as the city buzzes with anticipation for the upcoming Super Bowl, Ann Audrey searches for the black widow through the city’s frenetic bar scene, private clubs, high-rise offices, and beloved local institutions like Mary Mac’s Tea Room and The Varsity. With help from Flynn and her friend Theo, along with the return of sexy detective Mike Bristol, she pieces together a twisting story of social climbing, carefully managed appearances, marriage, and murder. As the Super Bowl kickoff draws near, the case reaches a climax when an ice storm shuts down Atlanta’s roads and power, leaving secrets and murderers with nowhere to hide.

 


About the Author

 


 Following her mother’s lead, Mississippi native Winnie Simpson was an avid murder mystery reader beginning in the third grade, starting with Nancy Drew and moving through the classics of British, American, and international crime. Winnie studied music at Duke University, later receiving an MFA in Music at SUNY Buffalo, where she worked as an arts administrator before throwing it all over in order to make a decent living. After finishing law school at Emory University, she became a partner in a large firm in Atlanta where her practice focused mainly on securities litigation. Retiring early, Winnie relocated to Northern Michigan where she lives in a renovated nineteenth-century building that served as a former Michigan state asylum. For more than a decade, she has taken writing classes and participated in writing groups. She is fond of opera, hiking, cycling, and Duke basketball, most seasons.


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Thriller Feature: Meat Cove by Janice Weber #bookreview #sagathriller #thriller #rabtbooktours @doublethirds @RABTBookTours




SAGATHRILLER

Meat Cove combines saga and thriller via Fundy's lurid diary, which appears between each chapter, forming a tale within a tale. As Fundy's grim memories slowly come back to life, her past and present collide in a riveting conclusion worthy of the first sagathriller.

Date Published: January 22, 2026

Publisher: Seacoast Press



Constable Fundy Sutherland is a buff, gruff Mountie with a price on her head and a veritable ossuary of skeletons in her closet. A former JTF-2 sniper, Fundy is quietly raising daughter Skye in Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia when three events upend her careful obscurity: Skye brings home a DNA ancestry kit; the doppelgänger of Fundy's runaway mother settles in tiny White Point; and an erratic Venezuelan ship passes through the Cabot Strait.

As local disturbances and international tensions escalate around a NATO conference in Halifax, Fundy must leave her safe lane and resurrect an implacable past. Generational love story meets geopolitical suspense in a SAGA THRILLER barreling across the North Atlantic.

 




Review

Meat Cove is a gripping blend of family saga and psychological thriller that builds tension in layers.

The boundary between past and present weakens throughout the story, pulling the reader deeper into a story that feels both fractured and inevitable.

The novel’s strength lies in how it lets the darkness and mystery build and build until it overflows.


About the Author

 

 Janice Weber grew up in Ridgewood, New Jersey and graduated summa cum laude from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York.

At the time of her Carnegie Recital Hall debut at age nine, she was writing her first short stories. She has continued both pursuits, with her novels providing counterpoint to the staid world of a concert pianist, or perhaps with her recitals offsetting the staid world of a writer.

Janice’s novels have a worldwide following. Her debut, The Secret Life of Eva Hathaway, enjoys near cult status and is widely recognized as iconic Chick Lit – though appearing years before the genre was invented. Its colorful characters, verbal virtuosity, wit, and sensuality established the hallmarks of a style that has earned Weber comparison with Mark Twain, Fran Liebowitz, Harold Pinter, and Robert Ludlum (if such a hybrid can be imagined).

Janice’s novels happen between (and occasionally during) concerts. Music on some level infiltrates almost every book: Eva Hathaway writes hymns between trysts, Floyd Beck met the love of his life at Carnegie Hall, Leslie Frost is a concert violinist, and Ross Major listens to Beethoven when the going gets rough. Characters without music in their lives fill the void with swinging, murder, and treason, activities musicians tend to eschew since this would detract from practice time.

Janice divides her time between fishing villages in Massachusetts and Cape Breton.


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Tuesday, May 26, 2026

Gay Historical Romance Feature: Dona Nobis Pacem by Will Okati #excerpt #teaser #comingsoon #mmromance #lgbtq #romance #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @changelingpress




Historical Gay Romance

Date Published: May 29, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

 


Dona Nobis Pacem. God Grant Us Peace.

 

Voiceless Donnell and defrocked priest Nathan are outcasts and strangers at the turn of the century. Despite his handicap, Donnell has made a life for himself as a businessman and owner of a saloon. His heart goes out to those whom life has dealt an unhappy hand. When Nathan arrives in this former gold-rush town, horsewhipped and ill to the point of collapse, Donnell is the only one to offer help.

Barely ordained before being accused of unnatural desires, Nathan has been sent to travel a faux road to Damascus as penance. He did not expect to survive the trek, and longed for the peace he might find when his body gave up the fight.

He never expected to meet someone like Donnell. Despite his lack of voice, Donnell is the teacher Nathan has hungered for all his life, and the lover he never dared seek out. Triumphing over a lifetime's worth of threatened damnation will not be easy to overcome, but Donnell's not giving up. The passion they share is what both men have always craved, but never found. When they're discovered, standing together is the only thing that will save them both.

 


EXCERPT

 

In a fit of optimism, some enterprising settler twenty-odd years ago had named this patch of land "Shady Grove." The name hadn't stuck longer than the first summer, arid heat scorching the life out of anything the daft fellow had tried to plant, and carrying away his wife and children.

After that, or so the story went, the settler had cursed his homestead with the new name of "Hell."

When gold was found not far west in a puny stream, the name changed yet again to "El Dorado." Though that lasted no longer than the rush of miners who picked, panned and mined away most of the precious metal.

When the gold was mostly gone and civilization caught up with the roughneck men who'd blazed through in search of riches, there came bankers, lawyers and doctors, along with their pretty wives and dainty daughters. Amongst themselves, they'd formed a quaint city council, elected a mayor, nominated a marshal, and rechristened this hole in the ground as "Nazareth."

Those whose tongues weren't corseted by the niceties observed in polite society still called the former boomtown "Hell."

As for Donnell, he called it home, and had since the day he was born, a silent infant who'd opened his mouth to wail, but made almost no sound, not then and rarely ever afterward. The best he could manage was a sort of scale of breathing -- a whistle, a shush, a sigh. He'd never spoken a proper word. At least his hearing was top-notch.

Music was Donnell's voice instead, tickled out through the ivories of the old upright piano he'd paid a considerable sum in gold dust to have shipped from Chicago. Within the safe haven of Treighton's saloon, Donnell had placed that piano facing the street, where he'd have a fine view through the mosquito netting over the window when he played.

He could arrange Treighton's however he wanted, no questions asked. Owner's rules and that owner would be him.

Music wasn't his only skill. He was a favored son of Lady Luck, and the cards danced to his tune. Those who thought a mute man was simple, and an easy cheat at faro, often found themselves losing big.

He'd given up the game after winning Treighton's, though. No sense in pushing his luck too far.

A man who'd call himself satisfied with his lot in life, Donnell caressed the piano keys, a jingling tune flowing smooth and sweet as quality whiskey under his mastery of the music. He let the corner of his mouth quirk upward with dry humor. Many were they who'd claimed the son of a whore, muteness aside, would never make anything of his life. They'd been wrong, too.

Did they accept his good fortune with grace? Hell, no. The "proper" folks of Nazareth scorned him still, and always would. Too good for the likes of him and his saloon.

Thank God for sinners, eh?

* * *

A sudden clamor rose from the dusty, uneven street outside, usually quiet and deadly dull during the morning hours while laborers and leftover miners toiled, polite society occupied themselves with polite works, and gamblers slept off their night's fun. Attention captured, Donnell peered through the mosquito netting over his window.

Soon enough, the source of the commotion came into view. Donnell raised one eyebrow, intrigued. A tall, lean man, far too thin for his height. He was dressed in the tattered remnants of a once-respectable shirt, now missing its collar and cuffs, and formerly sturdy denim trousers, with no hat on his head nor shoes on his feet nor a coat on his back. Bleached-out hair stringy from lack of washing and long enough to be caught up in a queue hung over his face and tangled across his eyes.

Donnell leaned forward, instantly captivated. He'd never seen the equal of those eyes, their color distinct even at this distance. Aqua blue, the shade of summer skies, dulled by hunger and pain, but no less remarkable.

In point of fact, were he to be cleaned up and provided with a few good healthy meals, Donnell guessed this young man would easily steal anyone's heart away. Not least of all his.

Not that anyone knew about his preferences. It was safer that way. He came in for scant questioning about his lack of female companionship, as most thought if his tongue didn't work then neither would his cock.

Donnell abandoned those thoughts and focused on the beautiful -- yes, beautiful -- young man instead, a far more pleasant diversion. He'd no stubble on his cheeks or chin, both badly sunburned. Young, then. Tall and gangly enough that at a guess Donnell would have put him in his late teens, no more than twenty, not so far Donnell's junior.

A man could make quite a lot of himself in twenty years plus change. He could raise himself a fine establishment like Donnell's, or he could end up staggering filthy and starving down a dusty, badlands street with children and bad-tempered dogs jeering him every barefooted step of the way.

Donnell frowned when the young man staggered, swaying alarmingly before righting himself. That didn't seem to be clumsiness, but rather weariness. Perhaps illness?

"Drunk," Bettina sniffed, peering past Donnell. She might work in a saloon, but she had no patience with men who behaved badly when they'd had too much of the grape and grain. She didn't scold like the holy men, no, she tore strips off their hides and nailed them to the wall, and they loved her for it.

Barely hearing her, Donnell continued to track the man's progress. Seeming to ignore the rabble jeering at him, he came to a stop and stood up as straight as he could, attempting to brush dust, mud and worse off his clothes, smoothing them down. He dragged his hair out of his face with hands that shook minutely and gazed up the length of the street still to go.

The quiet despair in his eyes struck a chord in Donnell's heart, reverberating with a sense of hollow misery. Here was a man who'd fallen as far as he could go, with a trail of heartbreak behind him that stretched out for as many miles as he'd walked.

Donnell sat back and drummed his fingers on his knees. Poor bastard.

Enough kind souls had helped Donnell in his day. He owed this poor fellow no less.

 

About the Author

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong love of storytelling. Will's definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for, though he -- not she anymore -- is a lot less quiet these days.

 

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

 

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Monday, May 25, 2026

Mystery Feature: Voices Carry Here by Gail Galotta #mystery #suspense #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours




Mystery and Suspense

Date Published: 05-04-2026

Publisher: Mission Point Press



Do you hear the voices? Listen if you dare . . . You’ll get both the heebies and the jeebies in this unsettling new title.

A henpecked husband learns that “till death do us part” isn’t the end of the story when his dead wife returns.

A newly retired couple uncovers a pestilent secret buried beneath their dream home.

A young woman retreats to the countryside to discover herself, only to stumble upon an unsolved tragedy calling out for justice.

Voices Carry Here is a collection of short stories steeped in mystery, suspense, and the supernatural. Set against the beauty of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, these tales will reveal secrets just beneath the surface of tranquil lakes, cries for help echoing from shadowed campgrounds, and small-town characters experiencing extraordinary circumstances.

Blending chills with warmth, author Gail Galotta’s flair for supernatural suspense is tempered with touches of humor, romance, and nostalgia.

 

About the Author


Gail Galotta was raised in Chicago with childhood summers in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

She’s always been drawn to the mystical pull of water, which often shapes the settings of her stories. An award-winning writer and former English teacher, she lives in Vulcan, Michigan, overlooking the same lake that inspired her earliest work. When asked what inspires her latest fiction, she offers only a cryptic smile.


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Sunday, May 24, 2026

Fantasy Romance Feature: Rowan's Lovers by Mikala Ash #teaser #exerpt #fantasy #romance #comingsoon #rabtbooktours @ChangelingPress @RABTBookTours

 



Action Adventure Romance, Capture Fantasy

Date Published: May 29, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



Rowan has a bounty on her head. Will her lovers get to her before a bounty hunter can collect the reward?

 

Rebellious slave Rowan is heading for the walled city of Iseky to find her lovers Ky and Chin Lau. She also need to discover who wiped her memories and why. Soldier of fortune Kepel Dev is forced to hunt her by any means necessary.

When Ky rushes to Iseky to try to find Rowan, he meets the flirtatious Hetta along the way. Meanwhile Chin Lau has escaped the Skolls and their new leader, Tamin Gutra, but on his way to find Rowan he falls into the hands of cannibals.

Little do they know slave master Ganwe din Kopese holds the key to all their futures.

 



EXCERPT

 

Ganwe din Kopese, known variously as Gan or Kop or Din the Slave Master, surfaced from a pleasant dream soon after sunrise. He’d been led into the desert by a troupe of naked slaves to an idyllic oasis where they frolicked in the sparkling water, the sun gleaming off their flawless skin. Under a swaying palm, strenuous digging uncovered a huge wooden chest of great antiquity. They’d opened it, lifting the creaking lid to expose a veritable king’s ransom. Excitedly they scooped up the glistening gems -- diamonds, rubies, sapphires -- and gaily tossed them into the air so they fell upon his head like the gentlest of summer rain.

Ganwe din Kopese awoke not only with a contented smile, but also a mighty erection. He surveyed the prominent tent in the silk sheet and grunted in self-admiration. “Seesee!” he bellowed.

A moment later his wife, third and youngest bearer of that majestic title, ran full tilt into his room, the folds of her transparent nightdress flowing about her petite body like a desert whirlwind.

“See to that, will you,” he said casually.

Seesee eagerly lifted the sheet, exposing his firm muscular body, and dove in. For a few moments he luxuriated in her warm, wet mouth. “Litu,” he then shouted. “I’m starving!”

From somewhere below -- the kitchen he hoped -- came an unintelligible reply from the second bearer of that esteemed title of wife. Gan imagined she was instructing the slaves in the preparation of some delicacy or other. Litu, he knew, kept a diligent eye on the latest culinary fashions shed like confetti by their betters up north. In the adjoining room a baby wailed, and was soon comforted by Didoy, the first bearer of the revered title of wife, who hummed a soothing rhyme from her childhood.

The house of Kopese had awakened.

Gan lay back, enjoying Seesee’s skills, noting that her technique had improved since Didoy’s lesson in the Quad: the art of pleasing a man with lips, tongue, throat, and fingers. She had finally mastered the timing of the twist of the shaft as she withdrew her mouth from his swollen organ before plunging downward so that her dainty nose was bent against his hard, muscular stomach. She held there for a count of five before slowly withdrawing. As she drew her mouth away, she wrapped her dainty fingers around his shaft to apply the screwing action that gave him an inordinate amount of pleasure. He sighed with satisfaction as the dream of buried jewels faded like a summer mist.

Litu, wearing a flimsy robe shaded in jade, entered with a tray. The smell of freshly baked bread, melting ocyx butter, strips of seasoned meat, and her sweet perfume caressed his nostrils. Balancing the tray expertly on one hand, she used the other to put an extra pillow under Gan’s raised head and shoulders. Then she swept off the sheet, positioned the tray on his flat belly. Seesee adjusted her position so she could tongue his ball sac while Litu knelt beside him to take on the shaft and head duties while he ate.

Gan watched appreciatively as his second wife opened her small, bow-shaped mouth as wide as she could to take in the thick head of his cock. He thought of it as the dome of a massive mushroom, and was secretly pleased that it posed a constant challenge to Litu, who eagerly strove to fit it all in. He took a generous bite of his bread, sending ocyx butter dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He almost bit his tongue when Seesee suddenly sucked one of his balls deep into her mouth.

“Easy, Seesee. Easy.”

“My apologies, husband,” she slurred after popping the delicate egg from between her generous lips. A shiny thread of saliva hung between her mouth and his tight scrotum, and with a giggle she slurped it up as she resumed her wifely duty.

Gan smiled contentedly. What a perfect household I have built, he thought. Three perfect gems, for that was how he often thought of his wives, to cater to my every urge.

He finished his breakfast with a cup of warm wine flavoured with huj, an expensive spice he imported from the Northern Reach. The slaves from that region carried the bales of the crushed seeds on their heads as they trudged their way to the Auction House.

That reminded him of this day’s tasks: the bidding for docile but intelligent slaves who could be taught. The House of Kopese was known across the world for the quality of his bedroom and household slaves. “Only the best from Kopese,” was his watchword, and all the prestigious houses of the city came to him. He excelled in teaching the art of pleasing men and women of refinement, and his slaves were keenly sought after, garnering top prices.

“Enough, Seesee, Litu. Enough, I say. I need all my stamina today.” He laughed at his unintended rhyme.

His two wives, however, pouted. Though they knew the demands of his day and evening, they didn’t like being denied their morning coupling.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not the end of the world.”

“It is,” Seesee said. “It’s been a whole week.”

“Has it?”

“You know it has. My cunny is aching. It’s wet all the time.” She screwed up her face. “You don’t love me as much as Litu.”

“Now, don’t be like that. I love you all the same. Didoy, Litu, and Seesee. All the same.”

“But you’ve had Litu three times in the last four nights.”

“I wish you wouldn’t keep count,” Litu said. “It’s not my fault --”

“Litu. Stop it!” Gan snapped. “Just this minute I was congratulating myself on such a harmonious household, and you go and spoil it by bickering.”

“I’m sorry, husband.”

“Now, Seesee. Remind me when I come home that it is your turn. Happy?” She smiled at Litu triumphantly. Shaking his head good-naturedly he chucked his pretty wife under her chin. “Now, is my bath ready?”

“I’d just ordered the heating of the water when you called,” Seesee said.

“Then go. See that it is ready for me.”

She stuck out her tongue at Litu and launched herself off the bed. After she’d skipped from the room, Gan took Litu’s hand and drew her to him for a kiss. She licked the ocyx butter from his chin.

“How old is she? Remind me.”

“Twenty.”

“And how old are you?”

“Two and twenty.”

“Then don’t goad her. Act your age.”

She pouted again.

“Has it really been three times in four nights?”

She nodded, and a sly smile escaped her contrite expression.

“There must be a reason for that,” he said in a questioning voice. “I wonder what the reason could be.”

“Because…”

He silenced her with a kiss. “I love you all the same. Remember that.”

“Yes, husband.”

“Now take this tray to the kitchen, and then go help Didoy with the children.”

“Yes, husband.”

“First, find my robe. It’s a bit chilly this morning. And my slippers. Where are my slippers?”

An hour later, bathed, perfumed, and dressed in his finest, Gan was farewelled by Didoy, who handed him his ebony staff as she did every day.

He kissed her, then stood back in silent admiration of her beauty, and his luck.

“You do this every morning,” she chided.

Her face was colouring in a blush fit for a maiden, not of a wife of ten years with three children and a household to manage. “I stop to thank the gods for the blessing they have bestowed on me. Is that so grievous a crime?”

“Being late will be a very great one if you miss bidding on the best prospects. The High Warden put in an order for six, no less: four cocks and two cunts.”

“Where would I be without you, I wonder.” He kissed her again. “Six, you say? What in the world does he do with them?”

 

About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.


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Friday, May 22, 2026

Romance Feature: The Algorithm of Us by Anh Sphabmixay #romance #womensfiction #contemporary #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours



Contemporary Romance, Rom-Com, Women’s Fiction

Date Published: April 29, 2026



Maya Lin never wanted to become the headline.

As the architect behind HeartSpark’s revolutionary dating algorithm, she built her career on one belief: love could be understood through data, patterns, and predictability. But after a viral breakup puts both her reputation and her company under public scrutiny, Maya finds herself forced into the spotlight she spent years avoiding.

Enter Eli Torres — sharp-tongued podcast host, relentless skeptic, and one of HeartSpark’s loudest critics.

When public backlash pushes them into an uneasy collaboration, their clashing beliefs ignite a tension neither of them can explain away. Maya trusts logic. Eli believes love is chaos. But the more time they spend challenging each other, the harder it becomes to ignore the connection growing between them.

Now Maya must decide whether love is something that can truly be calculated… or something that has to be felt.


About the Author


Anh Sphabmixay is a Colorado-based author who writes heartfelt stories centered on connection, kindness, and the beauty found in everyday moments. Inspired by her loving family—including her imaginative daughter and beloved Yorkie, Abbie—Anh creates stories that celebrate emotion, wonder, and human connection.

As a devoted wife and mother, she believes storytelling has the power to bring people together and leave a lasting impact on readers of all ages. When she’s not writing, Anh enjoys experimenting in the kitchen, capturing memories with her daughter and dog, and finding inspiration in life’s simple joys.


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