Silver Dagger Book Tours: Mystics in Hell Book Tour & Giveaway – 7/10 to 7/24

Posted on July 13, 2026 by Sahara Foley

 


No heaven can save them from their own twisted visions—

welcome to a side of the underworld you have never dared to imagine.


Mystics in Hell

A Heroes in Hell Anthology

compiled by Janet Morris

Genre: Dark Fantasy Anthology


Mystic Madness!

Join the doomed on their vision quests in eleven stories by the damnedest writers in Perdition: Janet Morris; A.L. Butcher; Joe Bonadonna; Andrew P. Weston; Gustavo Bondoni; Seth Lindberg; Tom Barczak; Michael H. Hanson; Louis Antonelli; Christopher Crosby Morris.

 

Mystics in Hell is the latest volume in the notorious Heroes in Hell series of anthologies and novels created by Janet Morris.

 

A Frame of Mind by Janet Morris & Chris Morris

Kit Marlowe treks back from exile, where he has encountered three witches. Carrying a skull which he found on a blasted heath, he arrives at the Globe, where Satan and the angel of death accost him. At their displeasure, he’s banished once more, this time to return instantly via the powers of the Fates. Satan meets him at a cast party and decrees that Kit not only will spy for him, but play Banquo, beheaded in each subsequent performance of Macbeth.

 

The Come Right Inn by Andrew P. Weston

Where we meet up with one of Satan’s most secretive agents. A charming woman with a finger—and most other body parts—in every pie. She’s bewitching, beguiling, and bedeviled to be sure, but won’t think twice about skinning you alive if you cross her.

 

Abode of Woe by A.L. Butcher

When the self-proclaimed anti-messiah builds a temple on their doorstep and ruins business, Calchas and Cassandra look to some devious means to bring down the walls. Dueling mystics and misinformation bring mayhem to the underworld.

 

Fool’s Gold by S.E. Lindberg

A tale of the Egyptian god of mysticism, Thoth, who seeks conspirators to retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone; with it, Thoth could usurp Satan’s control of the realm of Duat. Taking up the charge is Howard Carter, infamous antiquarian and tomb raider, and the disgraced evolutionist Ernst Haeckel. They discover that King Midas’s alchemical ability to transmute flesh into gold relies on the stolen stone, and Midas is producing Hell’s new gastro-currency: buttcoin. They infiltrate the Mortuary Mint and sabotage the currency’s production. Instead of returning the stone to Thoth, the duo uses it to build up their own fortune. The auditors of Hell, namely the First and Second of the Sibitti, police the matter.

 

The True Believer by  Lou Antonelli

Few national leaders of the 20th century had as much of a negative and controversial impact on history as Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, prime minister of South Africa from 1958 to 1966, when he was assassinated. Commonly referred to in South Africa as “Dr.” Verwoerd, he had a PhD in psychology, and went down in history as The Man Who Invented Apartheid. Now in Hell, Dr. Verwoerd refuses to acknowledge his infernal fate and gets a special visit to set him straight.

 

By Any Means Necessary by Gustavo Bondoni

Umberto Eco knows he’s in Hell; the suffering and multiple deaths that never kill him permanently are more than enough of a clue for a man of his learning.  But when he gets forcibly recruited by Nazi Commando Otto Skorzeny to prove the theories of one of history’s greatest charlatans, he thinks things can’t get any worse.  He’s wrong.  Hell can always get worse.

 

Excalibur by Tom Barczak

When dealing with the harsh reality of the Afterlife: Hell can be hard. But Rasputin has something even harder, and Lafayette Ronald Hubbard desperately needs it if he is going to pull off the greatest magic trick Hell has ever known.

 

On The Run by Michael H. Hanson

Tells of Sufi mystic Rumi, Zen Buddhist Dōgen, and Charlatan Spiritualist Mina Crandon using their new-found magics on the grandest of all quests, to find powerful talismans that will allow them to escape Hell itself.

 

The Sorcerous Apprentice by  Andrew P. Weston

Daemon Grim learns new tricks from an old dog. And just as well. There’s a fallen saint to bring to heel, and she’s not known for playing ball . . . crystal or otherwise.

 

The Colossus of Hell by Joe Bonadonna

Doctor Victor Frankenstein and computer scientist Alan Turing want to build a cyborg. Quasimodo wants to win the hand of the French fortune teller, Marie Anne Lenormand. Rasputin and Cagliostro want to open an exclusive, private club. And a mysterious damned soul, known only as the Orange Ogre, wants revenge against anyone in Hell who ever cheated or betrayed him, laughed at and humiliated him, or even ignored him—especially His Satanic Majesty himself.

 

Strange Arts by Janet Morris and Chris Morris

In a Tower cell, Marlowe’s head struggles to regain consciousness and rejoin his body. Here he finds his Elizabethan spymaster, Walsingham, waiting with J the Merciful and three mysterious Sisters. After painfully stitching together his body and soul, the five entreat him to join their most secret conspiracy.

  

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From The Abode of Woe by A.L. Butcher

 

Paradise’s dim light grew ever dimmer as the hell-lights began to glare with the blue glow of sulfur. It was an unforgiving light for the unforgiven. Word had got around, and crowds had begun to gather for the evening’s entertainment. Calchas had started a book on the outcome of the battle, and the diablos were rolling in.

“Two to One for the Pig Man!” yelled a grifter clad in the sharpest suit of the evening.

“Seven to Four for the Prince!” bellowed another voice, shrill in the crowd.

Kevin the fiend grinned. He was having the time of his unlife; he’d read the small-print.

“Are they ready?” Calchas asked, eying the large and sinister cloth-covered mounds on opposing sides of the temple.

“Yep. Ready for mayhem, master.” A smiling fiend is not something to stir the heart with confidence or joy and Calchas sobered. He wondered if he should feel guilty, but he had enough of that to last a thousand lifetimes and these New Dead had brought it on themselves. At least that is what he told himself and Cassandra.

“Ego fighting ego will bring no good for either. A temple built in haste to honor mere vanity and lies will surely fall to dust.” Cassandra stared at the mounds, hoping these fire-spiting death machines would not bring them all to the Undertaker’s door. Were they too close? She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

“Will we be punished for this venture?” He’d asked, thinking too late they may have erred and voicing both their fears. He hoped nothing would backfire; plans in hell oft went awry. And he knew that sooner or later he’d pay the price for this deceit.

“This is Hades. Punishment is inherent. But I think not . . . at least not on this day. ‘Rue thy former life, and revel in thy afterlife, for thou art damned.’ Is that not the advice you once gave me? We are the damned. We must survive as we may. But those infernal and wicked weapons of the new-dead — Surely the walls of Ilium would have fallen on the first day.” She paused, “Would we have fought with such demon-weapons of war?”

Calchas gazed over to the two looming cloth-bound shapes. “Probably. Priam and Agamemnon would have found some means to destroy one another, no doubt. Man’s capacity for war outweighs his capacity for reason — and this place is full of the testimonials to that.”

“They will fall in dust as vain men are wont to do.” Cassandra told him.

“They won’t go through with it. It would be suicide. That building will fall down in the next hell-storm,” Calchas replied, doubtful.

They’d watched the crowd assemble from a reasonable distance. “Pack up. In case. And I will try to steer the mayhem from our door to be on the safe side, should the range of those war-weapons be enough to hit us. Make sure you are careful where you stand.

“Look there’s old Assisi. Out for the entertainment, along with everyone else by the looks. Let’s see — drinks are half-price.” Calchas would not let this opportunity pass.

Cassandra nodded, “Where did you get the fire-spitters?”

“Che Guevara owes me a favor. It might be useful to keep one—just in case. How hard can they be to use? Look, come there are our two brave heroes.” Calchas separated himself from Cassandra, still in the guise of the department man, and wandered over to the two Prophets.

“So, gentlemen, are we ready to settle this? Remember the winner gets control of that site, should it still be standing. The loser, or losers . . .will have more immediate issues to deal with.” Calchas motioned to the nearer of the covered shapes. “Who would like Big Bertha?”

The Reverend Henry Prince stared doubtfully at the shape. “That’s not a sword, or a firearm.”

“Give that make a Heck-Cookie!” Kevin chortled. He’d been milling and warming up the onlookers. With a flourish he tugged the cloth away — to reveal a howitzer, pointing towards the Temple of Woe. It was an evil-looking device, as were many man-made machines of death. “Humans, they do like to kill one another in all sorts of inventive ways! Welcome Big Bertha. She’s a friendly girl!”

“And the other?” Smyth-Pigott asked, his voice tremulous.

They walked across to a lower-slung shape. “Gentlemen, meet Roaring Meg, the deadly maiden of the English Roundheads,” Kevin chuckled.

“Not your era, I suppose, but they do the job. They are primed for combat. Meg has helpers: she fires but one ball at a time, yet she’s a fiery lass and one of the more knowledgeable operatives of hell has evened the odds.” Calchas held his palm out, containing dice. “Whoever rolls snake-eyes gets first choice, but Meg is a little slower, and older, and thus she fires first.”

“What happens if we refuse this ridiculous plan?” Henry Prince could not take his eyes from the cannon.

“Refuse? I wasn’t aware that was an option.” Calchas feigned surprise.

Kevin murmured something in Calchas’ ear, “My associate says it is an option but if a refusal is forthcoming then all rights are revoked to build now and for infernity, Sentence will be the six-hundred and sixty-five years of cleaning Perish sewers, and you must publicly affirm your rival as the true Chosen One, the true heir and the ultimate seer. And as both are equally guilty you will have to work together, and your women too, forever. If both refuse, then it must be done at exactly the same time. Whomever speaks first is deemed the greater coward.”




British-born A. L. Butcher is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet, and a dreamer, a lover of science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her prose has been described as ‘dark and gritty’ and her poetry as ‘evocative’. She writes with a sure and sometimes erotic sensibility of things that might have been, never were, but could be.

Alex is the author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles and the Tales of Erana lyrical fantasy series. She also has several short stories in the fantasy, fantasy romance genres with occasional forays into gothic style horror, including the Legacy of the Mask series. With a background in politics, classical studies, ancient history and myth, her affinities bring an eclectic and unique flavour in her work, mixing reality and dream in alchemical proportions that bring her characters and worlds to life.

She also curates speculative fiction themed book bundles on Pubshare – for the most part – the Here Be Series

Alex is also proud to be a writer for Perseid Press where her work features in Heroika: Dragon Eaters, Heroika Skirmishers – where she was editor and cover designer as well as writer – as well as Lovers in Hell and Mystics in Hell – part of the acclaimed Heroes in Hell series. http://www.theperseidpress.com/

 

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Silver Dagger Book Tours: San Quentin Exodus Book Tour & Giveaway – 7/7 to 7/14

Posted on July 10, 2026 by Sahara Foley

 


What happens when a literature teacher channels her inner Nancy Drew to break an inmate out of America’s most famous prison?


San Quentin Exodus

by Bill Smoot

Genre: Historical Literary Fiction, Crime Drama


James, a still-water-runs-deep boy, struggles to navigate the rough streets of Oakland, California, in the 80s. His only friend is a pit bull he rescues from dog fighting. On the cusp of college, James commits a crime that results in a prison term of thirty to life.

Allison, a young Indiana girl obsessed with Nancy Drew novels, vows that her life’s mission will be to solve mysteries and help people. Introverted yet daring, Allison moves to Berkeley to teach prep school and volunteers as a tutor at San Quentin. She meets James when he is approaching fifty, learns his story, and after his parole denial, channels Nancy Drew to plan his improbable escape.

San Quentin Exodux is a braided novel about two people whose lives cross in a quest to reset an ill-fated life. It is a story infused with misfortune and pain, but also with hope and a fierce humanity.

 

“San Quentin Exodus, Bill Smoot’s deeply compelling novel, introduces readers to the world of prison but really to the much bigger world of his characters’ lives, inviting us to follow the trajectory of each as it unfolds with surprise and mystery, love and loss. Like all good literature, San Quentin Exodus ultimately asks us to reconsider everything we believe—or think we believe. Smoot is the consummate storyteller: restrained, wise, compassionate.”
—Lori Ostlund, author of Are You Happy?

 

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Prologue

 

Wings

In one week Allison Anderson will commit her first felony: section 4550 of the California Penal Code, helping someone escape from a state prison. Almost everyone who knows her would be stunned with disbelief. For her, it’s the ultimate realization of who she is.

One autumn evening six years ago, Allison entered San Quentin Prison as a volunteer tutor. Walking across the prison grounds, she gazed at the forty-foot walls, the spirals of razor-

wire, and the imposing guard towers. She wondered how an inmate might escape. It was her first time in a prison, and the question engaged her problem-solving mind. She did not know

that one day she would devise an escape plan. She did not know that she would put that plan into action. At the time, it was just a thought experiment, a challenge for a woman whose childhood heroine was Nancy Drew, girl sleuth.

Allison’s most vivid memory of entering the prison that evening was the birds. When she and her group rounded the hospital building and walked across the yard, she saw geese and gulls scratching the ground on the baseball field. It was mere minutes before the October sun would set, and their white feathers glowed like gold. A single goose stretched his neck, dipped his thick body, and with a push from his feet and a flapping of his great wings, he rose from the ground and glided across the field, then soared over the wall. Other geese did the same, their necks piercing the air like arrows. Sea gulls followed. The walls and guard towers were mere landmarks below them, like trees or outcroppings of rock, obstacles they cleared with ease. They didn’t need an escape plan. They had wings.

 

The First Day and the Last

They say that the two days of prison an inmate remembers most vividly are his first and his last. Everything in between is a blur. James’ first day was 30 years ago. His last—maybe—will be in one week. If Hemingway’s character could walk away from war, James can declare his separate peace from prison. It’s time to move on, regardless of what the parole board has ruled. It’s necessary. An absolute must.

For society, James is a statistic, another Black man languishing in prison, costing the state $75,000 a year. His escape—if it succeeds—will save taxpayers money. For himself, it will be his personal exodus, his promised land of another chance at life. If things go according to plan, no one will know how he did it. He will just disappear, a man become a ghost. Allison is a smart young lady, and he can’t find any flaws in her plan, but he is haunted by that old saying: If it seems too good to be true, then it probably is.

James is filled with yearning and fear. The greater danger is not that he’ll get caught and have time added to his sentence—though that’s a real possibility—but that the hope he’s allowed himself to feel will die. That’s the greater risk. The loss of hope he could not bear.

He lies in his bunk, trying to conjure up positive images. The thought of freedom makes his skin prickle. The shadows of the bars cross his body, spill onto the concrete floor. He listens to the cell block tick with sound, as if the walls are straining to breathe. He imagines a sea gull soaring on the wind.

 



Bill Smoot grew up in Maysville, Kentucky, and attended Purdue University where he was editor of the campus newspaper, The Purdue Exponent. Fired as editor by the university president, he was reinstated after protest from students and faculty. He went on to graduate school at Northwestern University, where he received a PhD in philosophy. He has taught for four decades at levels ranging from sixth grade to university students. He currently teaches courses at Mount Tamalpais College at San Quentin and the Osher Institute for Lifelong Learning at UC-Berkeley. His essays and short stories have such publications as Ninth Letter, Crab Creek Review. The Nation, Literary Review, Crab Orchard Review, Western Humanities Review, Narrative, and Salon.com. His the author of Conversations with Great Teachers and a novel, Love: A Story. Mr. Smoot currently lives in Berkeley, California, with his dog Artemis. His website is https://billsmoot.net

 

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Silver Dagger Book Tours: False Connections Book Tour & Giveaway – 7/1 to 7/22

Posted on July 6, 2026 by Sahara Foley

 


She’s ex-MI5.

MI5 wants her dead.

Who can she trust?

False Connections

by Steve Sheppard

Genre: Thriller, Action


“Thriller addicts won’t be disappointed”
“Steve Sheppard has created another great character in Mel Milano.”


Three years ago, Mel Milano was an MI5 intelligence officer with a promising career. Then, during a routine protection and surveillance operation in Wales, things went drastically wrong and three people died, including Mel’s partner and fiancé, Liam Webster.


Drummed out of the service on trumped-up charges by MI5 Deputy Director, Sarah Brook, Mel lost her career, her self-respect, her confidence and her fiancé. Nothing made sense.


Three years on, she is rebuilding her life, working for a private security outfit.
But she’s never forgiven the way she was dumped by MI5. One day she’ll discover the truth about Brook and what was really going on.


Now, though, it’s clear that Mel’s not the only one still holding a grudge. Suddenly everybody seems to want her dead. But why?


On the run from MI5, is there anyone Mel can trust to help her uncover the past?

 

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February. Freezing. Snow everywhere. A surveillance stint in Oswestry. At least, it was supposed to be surveillance. Well, surveillance and persuasion. Piece of piss job, frankly, and as it was just Liam and me, holed up in a cottage for an unspecified time, I’d looked forward to it. We didn’t often get to work together so when we did it was a bonus. We’d been a pair for nine months, engaged for two. Secretly engaged, that is, certainly as far as the service went. Married couples were absolutely not allowed – there was an idea it could lead to agents being compromised – but they were realistic enough to understand they could do little about more casual hook-ups: everyone knew that being in a relationship with someone not in the service was fraught with difficulties.

So, the only people who knew about the engagement were my parents, enjoying their retirement on the Gold Coast in Australia – Liam’s were both dead, killed in a car crash when he was a teenager – and our immediate boss, Catherine Spencer, a splendid old battle-axe with a heart of gold. Catherine was probably in the wrong job. She was far too concerned with the mental wellbeing of her charges, who she tended to treat as though they were the family she no longer had. Unlike Sarah Brook, she’d not been a field agent so hadn’t had her softer, more human edges knocked off her. I loved her to bits.

                Anyway, as I say, it was a simple enough job. Keep an eye on two young Russian dissidents, a married couple with the assumed names of Grigori and Polina Mironov. They were journalists in Moscow who had caught the eye of the Kremlin in the sort of way that was likely to end very badly very quickly, so they’d been spirited out via Estonia and brought to Birmingham. MI5 had no real thoughts that the Mironovs could be of any great help after their initial debrief; I genuinely think the overriding plan was to keep them safe. Good guys one, bad guys nil sort of thing. Not that the service was expecting the Russians to bother sending assassins to Birmingham to knock them off; it’s not as touristy as Salisbury for one thing. So the watching brief I had on the Mironovs was near the bottom of my extensive list of responsibilities.

                Until it wasn’t.

                Completely unexpectedly, after two years in Birmingham, Grigori and Polina upped sticks and moved sixty-five miles west to Oswestry, about as close to the Welsh border you can get without being a sheep. No one knew why. They certainly didn’t tell their local handler. Five weren’t keen on that. Black mark for the handler and a blacker one for his supervisor: me. It’s a lot easier for a couple of Russians to stay under the radar in Brum, surrounded by a million ethnically diverse people, than it is in a small rural town like Oswestry. No matter how fluent their English was, Grigori and Polina would soon become the subject of gossip and MI5 is distinctly anti-gossip.

                So that’s when Liam and I got involved. It was my job anyway and Catherine Spencer, told to send someone after them, watch them, befriend them, try and find out why they’d disappeared into the back of beyond, keep them safe and, one way or another, persuade them back to civilisation, decided that Liam should go too. If the friendly approach didn’t work and we had to do it forcibly, I’d find it difficult by myself. Liam riding shotgun was fine by me as Catherine well knew, although I didn’t think force would be needed. We were both good at striking up random friendships and we were a similar age to Grigori and Polina. Two young couples both new to the town. Nothing could be easier. So we were given fake jobs, installed in a small house around the corner from the Mironovs’ rented flat and told to get on with it.

                To start with it was straightforward. First of all, I arranged to bump into Polina in the local Co-op. She was thin, pale, drawn, with washed-out blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Obviously struggling to find a particular item on the shelves. Black tea, it turned out. I helped her look but it was a small store and we had to settle for Earl Grey. That got a conversation going. As we were both new to the town, I invited her and her husband to join us for a drink in the pub. Two pairs of outsiders united against the Welsh, of whom there were many. She laughed. The first warning sign was that they’d reverted to their real names, Marat and Natalya Panarin, which only added to Five’s concern. It was the first indication that the job might not be as uncomplicated as Liam and I had expected.

                It didn’t take long for things to go wrong. Badly wrong.

 




Steve Sheppard was born and grew up in Surrey before moving to Buckinghamshire and then to Oxfordshire, where he spent a quarter of a century living in an idiosyncratic village that was the affectionate inspiration for his fourth book, Lazytown. He now lives in Hampshire. He spent forty years starting to write books but not finishing them, until belatedly realising that the key is not to give up. The other thing he has since learned is that he should have become a celebrity before writing a book, as this would have made selling it much easier. 

 False Connections is Steve’s fifth book, but the first one written as a straight thriller and not primarily as a comedy, although it does contain humour. He hopes it will be the first of a series featuring feisty, funny but flawed ex-MI5 agent, Mel Milano. He also has three spy thrillers with laughs to his name, all published by Claret Press: A Very Important Teapot (2019), set in Australia, Bored to Death in the Baltics (2021), not set in Australia, and Poor Table Manners (2024), which takes place in Cape Town.  These feature an initially fairly hapless hero, Dawson, and a considerably less hapless heroine, Lucy, together with varied supporting casts, most of whom are not who they claim to be. Steve’s fourth book is an out-and-out comedy-murder-mystery, Lazytown (2025).

  

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Silver Dagger Book Tours: Where Dragons Are Captured Release Tour & Giveaway – 6/26 to 7/17

Posted on July 3, 2026 by Sahara Foley

 


How much would you wager to save a dragon?

Your safety, your friends, your people?

How about your life?


Where Dragons Are Captured

Where Dragons Are Book 1

by Fran Zuid

Genre: Epic Grimdark Dragon Fantasy Adventure



How much would you wager to save a dragon? Your safety, your friends, your people? How about your life?

Skye, an alitur—elf as the small-minded humans would degrade her—is a gambler hiding in the skin of her enemy to escape capture, her past and her true identity.

However, her fragile safety shatters when she’s caught cheating. Thrown into the corrupt world of gambling, where animals and creatures are pitted against one another for sport, Skye witnesses something she thought long extinct: dragons.

Determined to save and connect with the dragons, Skye is drawn into a web of deceit, loyalty, and love, impelling her to face her past and reclaim her heritage.

With unlikely allies, Skye must confront the soul-devouring priestesses and their ruthless general, One-Eye-Nic, before the last dragons—and her own soul—are lost forever.

This is an enthralling tale of lies, rebellion, and the price of freedom…


**NEW RELEASE!**

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The girl showed up with their tankards and a jug of homebrew. The man’s attention went straight to her cleavage. The hairy man pinched her behind for good measure before tipping her. Skye used the distraction to nick a card from the pack, a prince, hiding it in her coat sleeve. She waited for the girl to leave before dealing. The cards were soft, faded, and stained from nights of gambling.

Skye watched the three players as they scrutinized their cards. ‘Stupid’ smiled, Sid’s left eye twitched. The hairy man downed his tankard of homebrew.

Skye looked at her cards, she had two of pawns and a prince. On the table were a five and a seven of shields, a castle, and a three of pawns. Skye wasn’t sure what ‘Stupid’ thought he had, but Skye was pretty sure Sid had a castle, giving him the highest pair from the table.

Skye’s attention turned to the hairy man. The more she watched him, the more he seemed a ‘Stupid’ and in that case, no threat to Skye. He was only lucky with the previous hand.

Skye had the winning hand if she switched her two of pawns for the prince in her sleeve. ‘Stupid’ started the bets, throwing half his coin in, four silvers. Sid saw the bet and the hairy man added a silver.

She didn’t want to chase away Sid, so she also raised with only a silver coin. Keep it modest, keep it moving.

As the bets evened out around the table, Skye shifted her weight slightly and slid one hand under the edge of her sleeve. A quiet motion, a simple flick. She switched her cards—replacing a dud with a prince. Now she had two.

But just as her fingertips closed over the edge of the second card, a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Steel. Not touch. Not pressure. Just steel.

“That is enough. We know what you are,” a male voice said. “Good call, Jim, you will get your reward. And you,” the man’s grip tightened slightly, “Finn Skylar, just won yourself a meeting with the gambler’s guild.”

Her heart jumped. Breath caught halfway up her throat. The hairy man had a smug cat-smile. He’d caught his mouse.

Her gut twisted. A setup. She should’ve seen it. Should’ve felt it. No wonder he was unreadable—he wasn’t here to play. He was here for her. Cold flooded her limbs.

What did they know? That she was a cheater? A woman? An alitur?

Or all three?

She relaxed her face into neutrality, but her mind raced. Could she run? No. Not yet. Too many eyes, too close to the table. No one had drawn steel, which meant they still wanted her alive—questioned, not killed. Yet.

“What? You have nothing to say?” the hairy man–Jim–said. He leaned over and took Skye’s tankard of homebrew and downed it. “Cheers.”

Skye didn’t answer. She reached down, slow and measured, and picked her tricorne up off the floor. Her hat was just fabric—but it made her feel armed. Steady. Like herself.

She rose to her feet.

“I don’t know what this guy told you,” Skye gestured towards Jim, “but I didn’t cheat. I haven’t seen him before in my life.” She truly hoped that was the only reason they were confronting her.

The house-muscle behind Skye chuckled, or that was what she assumed the rumbling noise was.

“We have been watching, and you have an appointment with the gambling guild.”

“No one told me,” Skye said with a shrug.

“I did. Just now.”

Skye looked over her shoulder at the house-muscle looming over her. Tall. Broad shoulders. A scar cut down his right temple, hugging the cheekbone like a crack in old stone. His stance was heavy, but not rooted. A bit off balance. Good.

The short one would be slower, maybe better in a brawl, but easy to outmaneuver. The tall one could be clumsy. The real problem was her coat—it would get in the way if she had to move fast. If she had to fight.

But—

She ran through options. Surrender. Fight. Flee. None was good. She shifted her weight, breath held shallow in her chest.

“Where is this meeting?” Skye asked.

“At the boss’s office, at the pits,” the tall one answered.

Skye scanned the room. No escape. Everyone watched. Waited. Sid had crushed his cards in his hands. Only Jim kept drinking, he found his entertainment for the night.

“I don’t go to the pits,” Skye said.

The tall one rumbled again from behind, “I don’t care, you are going.”

The room inhaled.

Jim smirked at Skye and lifted his tankard off the table. With a flick and a flash of her hand, a knife plunged into Jim’s eye.

Gasps.

The cup fell, and Jim followed. 





Fran Zuid lives in a village on the outskirts of Cape Town, South Africa, with two dogs and four parrots (her personal dragons, without the fire-breathing part—which is a bonus). If she is not submerged in a creative fantasy world, or playing old games, she is fiddling in her garden, sipping wine at a vineyard or conquering a hiking trail somewhere—that is, if her “dragons” allow it.

Where Dragons Are Captured is her debut novel.

 

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Goddess Fish Promotions: THE DEADLY TEA Blurb Blitz & Giveaway – 6/22 to 7/24

Posted on July 1, 2026 by Sahara Foley


This post is part of a virtual book organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



Most sleuths don’t have the advantage of talking to the murder victim for clues, but Saffron has a window into the afterlife. The problem is, she’s not a detective and has no wish to be.

In the charming heart of London’s Notting Hill, Saffron juggles motherhood, running an animal welfare foundation, and counseling recently deceased spirits—the invisibles. But her peaceful routine is upended when a spirit insists she solve the mystery of his untimely death. Lucas Troy pops into her awareness claiming he was killed and demanding she figure out who did it. He wants justice before he’ll agree to move on. But Saffron’s role isn’t to play detective, but to help each invisible plan for the next adventure in living. She asks Lucas if he suspects anyone in the circle at his aunt’s tea party where he died. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him, but he persuades Saffron to interview them all.

She feels for Lucas, who had hardly begun his life, and she tries to persuade him that he can have a great future next lifetime, but finally she gives in and agrees to a little investigating. If she finds out something, perhaps he’ll agree to move forward. But the closer she gets to the possible killer, the more she’s in danger. Saffron has no wish to join Lucas in The Room Over There.

Settle in to a cozy mystery with a touch of the supernatural, the heartwarming chaos of family, and the charm of London’s Notting Hill. “Interesting characters, intriguing mystery.”


Read an Excerpt

It was glorious to dawdle around the bohemian and vintage shops on Portobello Road, and the addition of rare April sunshine in London made it seem to Saffron like her spa day. Not that she ever got to have those, as most mothers of young children didn’t. But today, browsing and shopping, she indulged herself in a glorious solitude amid the crowds. This busy street was her paradise, and she needed just a few more things for the children’s Easter outfits, but hoping not to find them too quickly.

Traffic and people swirled around her, and she thrilled to the bright colors, food stalls, brushes of music wafting out of open doors. She would forever be a tourist in her adopted city of London. Notting Hill was so like her San Francisco Bay Area, but snootier. In many ways, more exciting.

Peering into windows, she thought about the perfect bow tie she wanted for Percy’s suit, so her seven-year-old son didn’t look like a tiny banker. Four-year-old Freida could use a flower pin for her pinafore dress. Focusing on these ideas was such a pleasure. Saffron tried to wipe the smile off her face, remembering that Londoners did not walk around smiling, though Californians often did.

A passerby jostled her, and as she stopped to check her bag, a low voice drifted down. “Hey! Anyone here?”

Hella damn. An invisible. Another drifting spirit.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m busy, as you can see. You can see me, right?”

“I see a lot of hair. Curly. Are you some kind of animal?”

Saffron huffed. “You’re looking at the top of my head. Come down lower, so you can see my face.”

Some might call it being haunted, but Saffron called it helping invisibles. She wasn’t often contacted by newly dead people, but occasionally one popped into her vicinity. They always needed orientation and comfort after the trauma of dying.

About the Author:



Rachel Dacus is the author of eight novels and five poetry collections. Her fiction features love and relationships, exotic locations and intrepid heroines, and emotional journeys of self-discovery, all with a touch of the supernatural. Her poetry, stories, and essays have appeared widely in print and online literary journals and anthologies. She enjoys life in the beautiful San Francisco Bay Area, with its coast and trails where she walks her tiny but mighty Silky Terrier with her architect husband.

Website: http://www.racheldacus.net/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RachelDacusAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Rachel_Dacus
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/racheldacusauthor/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Deadly-Tea-cozy-mystery-Invisibles-ebook/dp/B0GPT7ZLFW

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Silver Dagger Book Tours: The Hera-Zeta Chronicles Book Tour & Giveaway – 6/18 to 7/18

Posted on June 30, 2026 by Sahara Foley

 


The only freedom of man is the freedom of thought. 

That is how human evolution is possible. 

Evolution of a man is the development of power and possibilities 

which never develop by themselves.


The Hera-Zeta Chronicles:

As Above So Below

by Zsa Zsa Tudos

Genre: SciFi Fantasy, Extraterrestrial Time Travel



Somewhere between galaxies, soul contracts, and the quiet chaos of human emotion, the book casually decided to rearrange your entire understanding of reality. Rude. Brilliant. Slightly illegal.


The Hera-Zeta Chronicles: As Above So Below doesn’t just tell a story, it initiates the reader. There’s something deeply precise about the way Zeta’s earthly path intertwines with Hera’s galactic mission, like it is not just a fiction, but it is decoding something ancient and quietly slipping it into the reader’s consciousness. The dynamic between dimensions, the Alpha & Omega Council, the 12 Magi… it all feels expansive without losing emotional gravity. And then it is anchored in something so human: behaviour, struggle, longing, connection.

The story embraces millions of Earthly years in cosmic interrelations emphasising the roles of earthlings in the Great Matrix and the cycle of nature. It is not only a book but an initiation of the readers, that can truly highjack their mind and clear misconceptions chiselled in by hundreds of years of conscious brainwashing.


The 87 chapters introduce events of the multidimensional life of the heroes, like the 1st generation Hera, a member of the Alpha&Omega Council, Hades’s wife, and her earthly counterpart Zeta, whose mission is to push the knowledge and help the Haya Sophia, the Magnum Opus, the Sefer Jezeera. Their steamy love affair with Hades serves as a good example of passion and deep emotional attachment.


There are no sharp divisions in the book. The story unfolds naturally, through which a clear vision of the origin and the true nature of mankind is drawn, providing allowance for the supernatural capabilities they all possess and the responsibilities they all bear.
Touching upon the creation and the arrival of people on the planet, the book introduces the effects of prominent astronomical events, migration, purpose, the knowledge and the lack of it, through the picture that unfolds after removing the man-made gap fillers, the stories and false events invented by the groups in power.


With the help of astral travelling, souls go through star gateways, visit far-away planets, learn and experience to support the one objective of life: to raise their own vibration. With the interrelations of energies, it creates a healthier environment below and adds to the frequency required by the above to fit into the cycle.


However, as it was clearly stated by Antoine Saint-Exupery in his most prominent book, The Little Prince, WHAT IS IMPORTANT IS HIDDEN. This concealed treasure is always Knowledge. Nevertheless, there is a catch. One needs to have enough to understand the lack of it.
Life is a jigsaw puzzle. However, the board is empty and there is no image to help you with the design. The only certainty is the interrelations between the pieces.

My strong desire is to help people understand their lives, events and become knowledgeable enough to take responsibility for their words, thoughts and deeds. It is a necessary step towards the Nirvana, called Happiness.
All the wonders!

 

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    “Here we are, two weeks before the third anniversary and it all goes down the drain,” went through her mind.

     So much has changed during these three years. She gave up her work in London, moved to Budapest and started to build a new life.

     “Was it worth it?” she pondered.

     She realized that she couldn’t put off the stock taking any longer. She knew that it was necessary to ease the pain.

     “Yes, today is the day,” she said and took the usual motion of jumping out of bed.

     Suddenly, there was a firm grip on her shoulders that forced her to stay put. The touch made her shiver. At first, she could not see the energy, only smelled it. A deep, sweet, masculine, forceful and sensational fragrance filled her nostrils, carried the promise of an overwhelmingly satisfying sexual intercourse.

     “Oh, Sweet Creator, aahh, I need to get up. Really, ahhmmmm.”

     A wet, warm and soft sucking took over her left toe that spread on, taking the right toe first and finally covered the feet under the duvet. Zeta focused and let the familiar face taking shape in front of her eyes. The dark, bushy hair, strong straight nose, lushes, dark red lips, fiery black eyes and this absolutely perfect, beautiful body with its strong curves and moving muscles brought a grateful smile on her face. Closed her eyes in comfort and enjoyed the currents pulsing through her body.

     “My darling brother, you never let me down. Do you love me?”

     “Very much, sweetest and enjoy your body even more,” replied the man.

     “You are only saying it because you feel ashamed for the behaviour of your earthly soul. Why didn’t you teach him, why didn’t you help him to remember? He is so lost!” continued the woman.

     “Hush Hera, hush…” he said and pressed his warm lips firmly on hers. His tongue started its way, gently opened the teeth and disappeared in the mouth. She lifted her arms and tried to caress him.  

     The hands were slowly coming up on the firm back and dancingly lost themselves in the hair-jungle. The lips opened, giving full access to the sucking and licking tongue.

     They seemed to forget Earth and all its pain. The mouth released the tongue and allowed it to make its way down on her body.

     “I should have taken a shower with a softening lotion and put some perfume on,” ran through Zeta-Hera’s mind.

     The man noticed the apprehensive tightness in her muscles.

     “Let it be, my sister, you are Hera now. You do not need lotions and showers. You can change your body and be anything you want. Do you understand?”

     “Yes, Hades, my darling brother, I understand,” replied the woman and with a curving motion helped the tongue to reach her nipples.

     The gentle and wet sucking made heavenly sounds while a big warm hand travelled through the stomach and landed on the navel. The tongue followed it shortly, licking its way deeply into Hera’s soul. The woman cried out.





Life is an extraordinary journey. It is full of challenges and unsolved tasks that are put in front of us on the constantly moving and changing road towards Nirvana, the place that today we refer to as Happiness.

In my journey, I visited 103 countries, lived in 7, on 4 continents. I learned about the interrelated micro- and macrocosm. I became a REIKI Master-Healer, an Initiated Witch, an Orixa Shamanic Master, and a Phoenix Initiated Educator to teach the ancient wisdom of Khem, the Royal Art of Al Khemi.

Today, I have an established philosophy – I call AKIA – that explores the interrelations between earthlings and nature, and Earth and the universe. I have 12 books published and many faithful students. I am an Intimacy & Family coach and help people to find their purpose. The joy of seeing them succeed gives me the strength to find new adventures and learn from new experiences.

I believe that learning is the only way to understand life and the self within. This unique knowledge makes us or breaks us in the end.

I am British and living in London.

 

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Silver Dagger Book Tours: Sister Olive Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly Cover Reveal & Giveaway – June 25th

Posted on June 25, 2026 by Sahara Foley


Fleeing to Dorset traps a mother and son between 

a cult and a killer waiting in the shadows…


Sister Olive Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly 

The Purebeck Mysteries Book 2

by Gill Calvin Thomas

Genre: Paranormal Mystery



If this whole saga was a fight between good and evil, then who had won? As far as Miriam could work out, neither good nor evil had triumphed yet. Now she was having to confront the grim consequences of Will’s behaviour, and she was mortally afraid. Maybe he and his darkness would win after all.

The tragic suicide of a young student starts a shocking chain of events for William Marshall, his wife Miriam and their son, Ollie. As Will descends into madness, a ghostly presence appears in their old house to protect Ollie. However, when two strangers threaten Miriam and an attempt is made to snatch Ollie, mother and son are forced to flee.

Amidst ever-present danger, they shake off pursuers to seek sanctuary in Rock House in Dorset, where they meet Caitlin and her friends. Twenty years have passed since Charlie Bond helped Caitlin solve the mystery of her mother’s death. Now, it is the turn of Charlie’s sidekick, Sam Haskell, to investigate a mysterious cult and unmask a killer.

 

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Gill Calvin Thomas is a retired academic who lives with her husband in Swanage , UK.  She finds inspiration in the landscape around her – the Isle of Purbeck has a spectacular coastline and beautiful beaches, and it is whilst walking here, that Gill develops characters and plots the twists and turns you will find in her books.

 Gill’s life experiences have informed her writing.  For example, her mother’s death when she was a small child, influenced her first book, Vex Not Her Ghost, where the heroine has to delve into the past to uncover the real circumstances of her mother’s death, the cover up and the ongoing corruption.  Her experiences as a social work academic governs the plot of her second book, Sister Olive Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly.  In this book the fatal combination of a researcher’s mental collapse and a sociopathic opportunist give rise to a cliffhanging finale.

 Reviewers have said that Gill writes the sort of books in which you find yourself racing to the end, whilst not wanting to finish.  Her characters are compelling, well-drawn and sensitively portrayed.  In her books bad people get what they deserve, but it is never quite what it seems.

 She is currently writing her third book. 

 

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Silver Dagger Book Tours: The Cassie Black Trilogy Book Tour & Giveaway – 6/24 to 7/8

Posted on June 25, 2026 by Sahara Foley

 


Work at a funeral home can be mundane.

Until you accidentally start bringing the dead back to life.


The Undead Mr. Tenpenny

The Cassie Black Trilogy Book 1

by Tammie Painter

Genre: Humorous Dark Fantasy Mystery



Work at a funeral home can be mundane. Until you accidentally start bringing the dead back to life.

“…a clever, hilarious romp through a new magical universe” –Sarah Angleton, author of Gentleman of Misfortune

Cassie Black works at a funeral home. She’s used to all manner of dead bodies. What she’s not used to is them waking up. Which they seem to be doing on a disturbingly regular basis lately.

Just when Cassie thinks she has the problem under control, the recently deceased Busby Tenpenny insists he’s been murdered and claims Cassie might be responsible thanks to a wicked brand of magic she’s been exposed to. The only way for Cassie to get her life back to normal is to tame her magic and uncover Mr. Tenpenny’s true killer.

Simple right?

Of course not. Because while Cassie works on getting her newly acquired magic sorted, she’s blowing up kitchens, angering an entire magical community, and discovering her past is more closely tied to Busby Tenpenny than she could have ever imagined.

If you like comic fantasy whodunits with plenty of wry humor, a cast of unforgettable characters, a touch of paranormal mystery, and piles of pastries, you’ll find it hard to pry yourself away from this first book of the Cassie Black Trilogy.

Note: While this book delivers a contemporary fantasy tale with snarky giggles and a few hexes, it’s fairly clean with only an itty-bitty bit of light cursing, one fight scene, and no hanky panky or sexual situations.

 

The Cassie Black “Trilogy” has now grown to a very un-trilogy-like six books that include…

  • The Undead Mr. Tenpenny (#1 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 1.0)
  • The Uncanny Raven Winston (#2 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 1.0)
  • The Untangled Cassie Black (#3 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 1.0)
  • The Unusual Mayor Marheart (#1 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 2.0)
  • The Unbearable Inspector Oberlin (#2 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 2.0)
  • The Unexpected Mr Hopkins (#3 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 2.0)

 

What readers have to say about the series so far…

  • “Wow and wow again! I absolutely loved this book! You get such a feel for the characters and the story is so fast paced you don’t want to put it down.”
  • “More, please!”
  • “I was unable to put this down when I started reading it. The author combines humour with a fast paced murder mystery all packed into a funeral home.”
  • “…suffused with dark humor and witty dialogue…”
  • “Cassie Black, won me over in the first book of this series, and she doesn’t disappoint in this one!!!”

 

 

**On Sale for Only .99cents!**

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READ A SAMPLE OF THE UNDEAD MR TENPENNY HERE:

 https://read.bookfunnel.com/read/t2q4kh1ayg






The Uncanny Raven Winston

The Cassie Black Trilogy Book 2



There’s nothing like an evil wizard to ruin a perfectly good trip to London.

Ever have one of those weeks? You’ve taken an overdose of magic, you’ve melted a twelve-year old girl, and Magic HQ has sent a letter “requesting” you come by to discuss your magic control issues.

No? Just me, then?

I don’t want to go. I’ve got a boss in a wheelchair (my fault), a zombie cat who demands his treats on schedule, and no interest in sorting out the quirks of another magical community.

But when someone slips me information tying my parents’ disappearance to HQ, I can’t pack my bags quickly enough.

I’m soon destroying historical displays, befriending befuddled ghosts, and focusing more on uncovering the truth about my past than on learning how to rein in my magic. Which, considering what might happen if I fail the test HQ has for me… Well, best not to think about that.

This second book of the Cassie Black Trilogy squeezes you through a magic portal, lodges you in a hidden corner of the Tower of London, and plunges you into a tale of mysterious mishaps, peculiar ravens, and TV-binging trolls.

If you like contemporary fantasy with unforgettable characters, snarky humor, and a touch of paranormal mystery — or if you’ve ever wondered what those garden gnomes are really up to — you’ll find it hard to pry yourself away from The Uncanny Raven Winston.

The Cassie Black Trilogy is a fish-out-of-water tale that takes you from the streets of Portland to the Tower of London. It’s got magic and mystery, pastries and zombies, sentient gnomes and an evil wizard…because there’s always an evil wizard, isn’t there?

 

**Get it On Sale at Smashwords discounted for the month of July!**

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The Untangled Cassie Black

The Cassie Black Trilogy Book 3



Sometimes taking an overdose of magic is the least of your problems.

Not only has Cassie Black just lost two people through a magic portal, but her archenemy, the Mauvais, is threatening to destroy city after city if Magic HeadQuarters doesn’t hand her over to him…. a proposal HQ isn’t exactly saying no to.

As the Magic higher ups debate her fate, Cassie refuses to sit by and watch the grass grow between the toes of the surveillance gnomes. Biting back her life rule to never get involved, she knows the only way to stop the Mauvais is to go after him herself.

Which is exactly what he wants. Because the instant Cassie falls into his hands, the Mauvais will gain the unlimited power he’s always craved.

So don’t get captured, right? Easy for you to say.

Trouble is, there’s a traitor within HQ who’s proving to be more devious, more powerful, and with more tricks up the sleeve than anyone could have ever guessed.

In this page-turning conclusion of the Cassie Black Trilogy, the curses are flying, the pastries are plentiful, the bookworms are slithering, and the magical batteries are charged to capacity.

If you like contemporary fantasy filled with dark humor, paranormal mystery, and a cast of unforgettably quirky characters, you’ll love the twists and turns of this conclusion to the first Cassie Black Trilogy.

 

**Get it On Sale at Smashwords discounted for the month of July!**

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Author of humorous fantasy whodunits full of mythical misfits and magical mishaps

Many moons ago I was a scientist in a neuroscience lab where I got to play with brains and illegal drugs. Now, I take wickedly strong tea and turn it into comic fantasy whodunits full of mythical misfits and magical mishaps that I hope give you a giggle. 
My tales run the gamut from the ever-expanding Cassie Black Trilogy with its wryly humorous paranormal mysteries to the comical fantasy whodunits in The Circus of Unusual Creatures, and from light-hearted novellas celebrating my love of books to short fiction in which I really flex my myth-loving and humor-craving muscles!

When I’m not creating worlds or killing off characters, I can be found gardening, planning my next travel adventure, concocting some sort of mess in the kitchen, or working as an unpaid servant to one very spoiled cat and some very demanding squirrels.

 

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Silver Dagger Book Tours: The Nightingale Detective Agency Book Tour & Giveaway – 6/12 to 7/12

Posted on June 24, 2026 by Sahara Foley

 


In 1926 St. Paul, a determined female private investigator uncovers deadly secrets behind a debutante’s suspicious death in this twisty Prohibition-era cozy mystery.


The Nightingale Detective Agency

A Charlotte Van Elsberg Mystery Book 1

by Denise Devine

Genre: 1920’s Historical Cozy Mystery



St. Paul, 1926—where ambition comes at a cost, especially for a woman.

Charlotte Van Elsberg is determined to become the city’s first female private investigator and help women in need. She’s already landed her first case: a grieving mother who wants answers about her daughter, Eleanor Kimball, a debutante killed in a suspicious car crash. Was it truly an accident or something more sinister? Char intends to find out. There’s just one hitch—Char’s husband.

Will Van Elsberg, a seasoned investigator, knows the job too well. It’s no profession for a petite young lady, and he’s not about to let his wife charge headfirst into danger. Char has other ideas. She agrees to hire bodyguards to satisfy his objections.

However, despite the addition of her “new team,” she soon learns that this job is a lot harder than it appears. Doors slam in her face, alibis don’t add up, and everyone appears to be hiding something. Does she have the grit and determination it takes to solve this case?

The more she digs into Eleanor’s carefully polished life, the more she uncovers the young woman’s secrets. Hidden truths that someone is desperate to keep buried. Evidence worth killing for. Now that Char is asking questions, who is determined to stop her from revealing the missing pieces?

If you love Prohibition-era intrigue and twisty whodunits, dive into this 1920s cozy mystery filled with clever clues, hidden secrets, and a bold female sleuth. Grab your copy today and start sleuthing!

 

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“Robert can’t know about this,” Marjorie said in a low, cautious tone. “He believes Eleanor’s death was an accident and he considers the matter closed. Any attempt to dig up new information will cause doubt and suspicion, casting a blight on our reputation.”

“I can be very discreet,” I assured her. “Besides, a woman asking questions isn’t going to cause concern like it would if a man began poking around.”

Marjorie scrutinized me with a critical eye. “If I decide to retain your services, what assurances do I have that you’re trustworthy? I’ve never heard of you. Are you affiliated with Pinkerton?”

“No, but I do have experience in handling all manner of issues, and I have great counsel,” I replied, wishing I’d already chosen a name for my agency. At times like this, having an official-sounding name made me appear more professional. “My husband is also a private detective. His reputation is impeccable.”

Marjorie’s amber eyes lit up with curiosity. “Is that so? Perhaps I should hire him.”

“He’s overloaded with cases right now,” Ethel said, injecting herself into the conversation. “He shares an office with an attorney, Peter Garrett, and he works almost exclusively with Peter’s clients. Willard has needed their services a few times with real estate deals.”

“But can a woman be as effective?” Marjorie asked, her eyes shadowed with lingering doubt.

Keeping my expression neutral, I refused to let my disappointment show. I’d expected men to doubt my competence, but not another woman. “I will get answers for you,” I said firmly, my voice steady with resolve. “Give me a week. If I haven’t reached a breakthrough by then, our agreement is off, and you owe me nothing. Fair enough?”

A tall, gray-haired man wearing a dark tweed suit appeared in the window, scrutinizing us with narrowed eyes.

“What a wonderful garden you have, Marjorie,” Ethel said loudly and turned her back to the window.

Marjorie glanced back at the window and turned away quickly as well, confirming to me that the man in question was her husband, Robert. “My gardener came highly recommended,” she replied in a nervous, high-pitched voice. “You’ll have to come back in April when my spring perennials are in full bloom. Perhaps we’ll have luncheon, then, too.”

Ethel smiled conspiratorially as the three of us made our way toward her black limousine. “So, the agenda is set then? Charlotte will meet with you again in a few days to go over the specifics of the garden club’s next outing.”

Marjorie held off answering until we reached the car and out of the earshot of her husband. “All right,” she said to me. “I’ll meet with you again a week from today, but at nine o’clock when Robert is golfing. In the meantime, you are not to call my house under any circumstances. Is that clear? Robert must not get wind of what I’m doing, or he’ll be upset.”

“Yes, I understand,” I replied with a nod. “I’ll meet you here next Thursday at nine o’clock to give you all of the information I’ve acquired.”

Marjorie engulfed Ethel with a hug. “Have a safe drive home.”

I slid into the car with sweaty palms and a stomach churning with anxiety as Marjorie walked swiftly toward the house. I’d just promised to give her the information she so desperately needed in seven days. What possessed me to make such an outrageous claim?

I didn’t care about the money. I had exactly one week to prove I was worth the trust she’d placed in me—or be finished as an investigator.




Denise Devine is a USA Today bestselling author who has had a passion for books since the second grade when she discovered Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. She wrote her first book, a mystery, at age thirteen and has been writing ever since. She loves all animals, especially dogs, cats, and horses, and they often find their way into her books.

She has written twenty-two books, including books in the Beach Brides series, Moonshine Madness series, and West Loon Bay series. Her books have hit the Top 100 Bestseller list on Amazon and she has been listed on Amazon’s Top 100 Authors.

 

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Silver Dagger Book Tours: Dragons of Mu Release Tour & Giveaway – 6/20 to 6/27

Posted on June 23, 2026 by Sahara Foley

 


The Eternals, a non-magical woman as the Chosen One, Marfóir, and her best friend join in the battle to slay the most evil dragon on earth who’s plan is to take over the world.


Dragons of Mu

by Pamela Ackerson

Genre: Epic Fantasy Adventure


Drakine is rising. The only hope is the hero no one expected.

One non-magical woman is the Chosen One. Destiny won’t wait. With her fiercely loyal friend, Lottie, by her side, and Blaze’s army behind her, Amy is thrust into a war against the most evil dragon ever to preside over the dragon realm on the Island of Mu. A creature whose heinous ambition is nothing less than total annihilation of the mortal world and complete global domination.

To survive, they must fight the ancient powers and unite the fractured kingdoms. The Island of Mu is burning… and only she can turn the tide. Grab your copy today.

 

**Releases June 26th – PreOrder Now for Only .99cents!**

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She rubbed the back of her head, felt a small lump, and winced. Her head was throbbing. Her knee was yelling at her and now she heard angry, men’s voices.

One of them yelled, “Over there! There she is. Get her!”

Another pulled out a long knife and they ran toward her.

Amy rushed into the woods. Turning around, she could see they were catching up to her.

Up, Amy, up. They won’t be looking up.

She climbed an oak tree as high as she could. Pulling on the long skirt, she squatted on a branch.

The branch felt odd and slithered underneath her. A large, looming face in the shape of a dragon stared at her unblinking.

Holy cr—

The creature put a long claw to its mouth and said, “Shhh.”

Amy took a deep breath. A scream was building inside her but before she could release the ear-piercing screech, she was muzzled by the creature. Her heart jolted as its wing enveloped her and she lost consciousness.

A few moments later, she was gulping for air. Fully expecting to open her eyes and see the hotel lobby, she was stunned to be staring into the eyes of a dragon.

–A dragon, a huge dragon with big, green eyes.

You’re safe.

Amy shook her head. “No. No, I’m not. There’s no okay in this, whatever this is at all. This is crazy. Why is this happening?”

Where did you come from?

She stared at his mouth. It wasn’t moving.

This hallucination was freaking weird. A talking dragon that didn’t move his lips. They’re going to take her away and leave her in the psych ward for the rest of her life.

Her eye began twitching. It wasn’t real. None of it makes sense.

Think, Amy. Dragons aren’t real. How could a dragon talk?

Anything can happen in a hallucination. She repeated to herself. This isn’t real.

Was she dead? Is this purgatory? Her own personal nightmare of an afterlife? Could she have injured herself so badly that she died?

She wasn’t a bad person. It certainly wasn’t in Hades. Well, it better not be Hades.

A talking, psychic dragon communicating with his mind.

Of course, it makes soooo much more sense.

She watched as the men ran into the woods, searching for her.

The dragon spoke in a deep, soothing voice, “Why are you dressed in that garb?”

Amy stared at the huge beast.

The beast’s green eyes penetrated her with a questioning glare.

“A— a party. We were going to a party.”

He looked at the bracelet.

“Someone put them in my shopping bag.”

“Let’s go. We need to get you into normal clothing. I’ll take you to Bev’s.”

Amy started climbing down the tree.

“No, no.” The dragon grabbed her and placed Amy on his back before taking flight.

Amy squealed, inhaled and released another louder scream.

“Stop.” His body jolted. “Your obnoxious squawking is impaling my ears.”

Within a few moments, they soared through the air and flew from cloud to cloud.

Her stomach flipped and she swallowed the huge lump in her throat.

“Ugh, no ups and downs, please.”

He laughed. “No quick drops? You’re the slow-boat kind of person.”

Her heart was finally returning to its normal beat. She was getting comfortable riding on his back and was beginning to enjoy the view.

“Whoa! This is awesome. I never have flying dreams.”

The dragon huffed.

Amy was mesmerized. It was freaking fantastic. The warm heat from the sun and soft air on her face, the flapping of his wings, it was glorious.

She could do this. It was peaceful. He was gliding along and she was euphoric.

Hold on.

“Hold on? No, don’t ruin the moment!”

The dragon took a deep dive. Amy let out an earsplitting shriek and gripped the back of his neck tighter as he gracefully landed on the ground in front of a small, wooden cabin.

He grunted in pain.

“Your fingernails are cutting into my skin.”

“Sorry.” Amy dismounted him like she would a horse.

“You don’t look like you’re sorry.”

She gave him an angry side-eye.

He grumbled, “Go. Tell her I sent you.”

“Um. You want me to knock on a stranger’s door, in the middle of BFE, and tell her a dragon sent me?”

 “We’re not in Egypt.”

She snapped, “What? We’re in the middle of freaking nowhere. That’s what BFE means!”

Ignoring her irritation, he responded, “We’re in Ireland.”

 “Ireland? I’ve never been to Ireland. How am I dreaming that I’m here? I’ve only seen pictures and this in not anything like the pictures.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t have a passport with me!”

She rubbed her forehead. Why would she need a passport in a dream?

“No worries.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll be back in a blink. In the meantime, tell her Blaze sent you.”

“Oh, look. A fairy circle.”

His wide-eyed, incredulous stare gave her pause. He shook his head. “Wow.”

She shrugged.

“I can’t keep up with you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. My mind goes really fast sometimes.” She limped toward the fairy circle.

“What are you doing?”

Amy chuckled. “Making a wish.”

He looked at her like she was growing horns.

“Um, yeah. Make a wish and the fairies will grant it only if they see fit. You have to watch out for all the fairies protecting the fairy circle. You don’t want to step on them, you know.”

Amy stepped back from the circle. “Hello, little fairies. I hope you’re having a pleasant day.”

He harrumphed and walked away.

“Hey, it’s my dream. I can do what I want.”

Amy raised her hand to knock, but never made contact. An elderly woman, in her mid-seventies, opened the door.

“Oh, I thought I heard Blaze’s voice.”

“I’m Amy. He told me to tell you—”

The woman opened the door wider. “Come in. The sun’s going to be setting soon and it’ll be a bit chilly.”

The elderly woman had light hair, dark blue eyes, and a wide, pleasant smile. Her hair was rolled up into a bun tucked on the back of her head. Amy’s memories immediately went to the cartoon with the grandma lady who owned the canary, Tweety.

Amy cautiously entered the house and as she turned to look about, a man rushed through the doorway.

He was an average-looking man except for his eyes. They gleamed an effervescent green. The man’s dark hair was a deep contrast to his light skin.

She never cared for the five o’clock shadow but it did do him justice.

“There you are, Blaze.” She handed him a mug.

“Thank you, Bev.”

“Mark on his way?”

“Soon. He has a few things he needs to take care of before he comes.”

Mark? As in Harlow?

Bev turned to Amy. “What would you like, dear? I’ve got some hot tea on the table or, if it pleases, I can pour another draught.”

“T—”

“She needs normal clothes.”

Amy glared at Blaze. “And who are you?”

“I’m the man who saved your skinny bum and brought you here.”

“And how, pray tell, did you do that? A dragon…” Her voice trailed off.

Bev looked puzzled. “So, she’s not from medieval times?”

“No.”

“She didn’t time-travel here?”

“No.”

Time travel? Amy interrupted, “I can speak for myself.”

“Really?” He snorted. “Go ahead, darling, and explain how you got here.”

“Fine. I was at a party.” Amy flipped her hand in the air. “I tucked the jeweled comb in my wig and the next thing I knew, these men attacked me and I’ve been having this dream or possibly been unconscious ever since.”

Blaze sat at the table. “You’re not unconscious.”

“Then you tell me what’s happening.”

Bev took her arm. “Oh, sweetie, it’s been a day for you, hasn’t it? Sit, relax, and have a cuppa. I’ll get you some clothes that should fit you. We’ll get you all sorted out.”

The concern in Bev’s voice was telling.

Wariness clung to Amy as a hesitant smile tugged at her lips, a stark contrast to how she was feeling.

“I don’t need clothes. I just want to wake up.”

Bev asked, “Wake up?”

Blaze waved Bev’s question off and spoke to Amy, “Somehow, you’ve managed to get two very powerful and magical relics to bring you here. People have gone to war to possess the magical comb and bracelet.”

Amy grunted.

“Those men stole the relics to take over Mu and conquer the magical world. They will not hesitate to kill you for them.”

Amy bit her upper lip, repressing a nervous giggle. “Not ruby-red slippers? Will lightning flash from the jewelry when you try to remove it from my hair and wrist? Do I repeat ‘there’s no place like home’ three times?”

Blaze glowered. “I don’t find your sarcasm amusing.”

She removed the jeweled comb and handed it to Blaze. “Here. Take it.”

Bev glared at Blaze and tapped Amy’s hand. “Blaze can get you back to where you belong and to your party whenever you’re ready.”

“Good.” Amy put her wrist toward Blaze. “I’m more than ready.”

Blaze reached to take the bracelet off her wrist. “It won’t come off.”

Bev put her hand to her chest. “What?”

Amy’s voice shook in panic. “No, no, take it off!”

“It won’t come off.”

“Fine, then I’ll do it.”

She fiddled with the clasp and finally threw up her hands in frustration. “It won’t come off!”

Bev walked over to the cabinet and brought back a bottle of Irish whiskey and three glasses, and said, “It has begun.”

 




Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Wall Street Journal bestselling, award-winning author, Pamela Ackerson is a time traveling adventurer. She was born and raised in Newport, RI where history is a way of life. She lives on the Space Coast of Florida where everyone is encouraged to reach for the stars!

Her literary journey is as diverse and adventurous as the time-traveling escapades she writes about. With a rich tapestry of genres at her fingertips, she weaves stories that span from the wild frontiers of the Old West to the intricate cultural tapestries of Native American history. Her work doesn’t stop at fiction; she delves into the realms of history, self-help, and even marketing, showcasing a versatility that resonates with a wide audience.

Ackerson’s presence on the Space Coast of Florida reflects her forward-thinking approach to writing, always aiming for the next big leap in her storytelling odyssey. Her prolific output is a testament to her dedication to her craft, inviting readers to join her in exploring the vast landscapes of human experience and imagination.

Honest reviews of Pamela’s books are always appreciated.

Absolutely no AI programs were used to create any story she has written.

Thank you and have a good moments day.

 

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