18 July, 2026

Mini Reviews: Love Blooms at the Cornish Cottage / The Book Club Boyfriend / The Italian Village in the Hills

 


Note: I received Advance Listening Copies (ALCs) from LibroFM of all the three book.


Book 1: Love Blooms at the Cornish Cottage by Kim Nash



Sometimes all you need is a warm, hopeful story that reminds you life can begin again after heartbreak. Love Blooms at the Cornish Cottage is exactly that kind of book.

Kim Nash has a wonderfully comforting writing style that feels like a breath of fresh sea air. The story is filled with charming characters, emotional moments, and the kind of optimism that makes you want to curl up with a blanket and keep reading.

Michelle was easy to root for. Her struggles with mid-life changes, past heartbreak, family relationships, and the fear of opening her heart again felt realistic and relatable. I especially appreciated her journey toward rediscovering her confidence, independence, and sense of self-worth.

The romance follows a fairly predictable path once Makis enters the picture, but honestly, that’s part of the appeal. This is comfort reading, and the familiar beats work in its favor. That said, there were moments when Michelle’s decisions tested my patience. She seemed far too trusting of Makis despite several obvious red flags.

What stayed with me most was the book’s message about rebuilding your life, healing old wounds, repairing family bonds, and realizing that happiness doesn’t depend on someone else completing you.

Even if you’ve never read the previous Sandpiper Shores books, this works perfectly well as a standalone.

Amazon

Book 2: The Italian Village in the Hills by Victoria Springfield



The Italian Village in the Hills is a warm, character-driven story about family, identity, and the secrets that linger across generations.

The novel follows two women whose journeys bring them to the beautiful Italian region of Liguria. Stella returns to the village she once called home, accompanied by her fiancé, while Amy sets out to uncover the mystery behind a coin necklace and postcard left behind by her grandfather. As their stories unfold, both women find themselves confronting the past and discovering truths that will shape their futures.

What stood out most for me were the characters and their emotional journeys. Stella and Amy each have compelling storylines, and while it takes some time for the parallel narratives to connect, the payoff is worth the wait. Once the pieces begin falling into place, the story becomes increasingly engaging and difficult to put down.

The setting is another highlight. Springfield brings Liguria to life through vivid descriptions of medieval streets, olive groves, coastal views, and delicious local food. Reading it felt a little like taking a gentle holiday through the Italian Riviera, complete with the kind of scenery that makes you immediately want to book a flight. Humans are remarkably susceptible to descriptions of pasta and picturesque villages.

While some plot developments are fairly predictable, there are still a few surprises along the way. More importantly, the emotional core of the story remains strong throughout, making it an enjoyable and satisfying read.

A lovely escape filled with family secrets, beautiful scenery, and heartfelt discoveries, perfect for readers who enjoy women’s fiction with a strong sense of place.


Amazon


Book 3: The Book Club Boyfriend (Must Love Hockey #2) by Kendall Ryan



This book has all the ingredients of a fun rom-com: grumpy/sunshine chemistry, frienemies-to-lovers tension, a slow-burn romance, and a bet that complicates everything. If those tropes are your weakness, this one is easy to pick up.

The alternating POVs worked particularly well, helping build the romantic tension and making it easy to root for the characters as they danced around their feelings. The audiobook narration also does a great job bringing that dynamic to life.

That said, the story didn’t completely win me over. The pacing dragged in places, especially when the romance seemed to be circling the same emotional ground. I also struggled a bit with the heroine, who often came across as more insecure than self-assured. While her growth arc made sense, I wanted a stronger sense of confidence and agency from her.

Overall, this was a cute, trope-filled romance with plenty of banter and chemistry, but I found myself wishing for a little more energy, passion, and that extra spark that turns a good rom-com into a memorable one.

A solid choice for readers who love slow-burn romance and classic rom-com tropes, even if it never quite reaches its full potential.



Amazon


17 July, 2026

Beyond Ever After by Chantal Gadoury

 

Beyond Ever After
Chantal Gadoury
Publication date: July 14th 2026
Genres: Adult, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult

Return to the world of fairytales that readers first fell in love with in Until the Last Page in this magically charming sequel.

When Jo fell into a book of fairytales, she thought she would only have to save one prince. But now she has to save his brother, too.
In this new chapter, Jo finds herself lost once more in a world of magic, crowns, and impossible choices. The stories have changed, but the dangers haven’t—and neither has the loving a frog prince was never meant to be easy.

He thought one kiss would solve everything—but now, Prince Aneurin must stop a doomed royal wedding. With Josephine by his side, they tumble through twisting tales in search of a clever witch hiding behind a perfect disguise.

Between running from bearded kings, and avoiding unwanted betrothals, they navigate kingdoms and stories that refuse to stay neatly written. As adventures collide and hearts are tested, Jo and Aneurin soon discover that even in fairytales, the most dangerous magic of all is love.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Apple Books

EXCERPT:

PROLOGUE: ANEURIN

I was certain I could not tolerate another insufferable evening in these damned confining clothes. Tugging at the collar of my tunic, I silently let out a curse into the cool night air. The music from the festivities below, a gentle, enchanting melody of the celebration, drifted up to where I stood on the balcony of my chamber. I’d done my best in avoiding the gossiping members of the court who still could not cease bringing up Josephine’s name around me.

This was a night of grand celebration. My brother was finally engaged, and there was once again a promise of stability – a guarantee of a prosperous future now that he was to be wed. My brother, the epitome of regal charm, and his beautiful future bride-to-be were at the center of everyone’s attention. I was grateful for the distraction from myself.

Sliding a hand through my hair, I let out a deep sigh. It had been apparent from the ballroom floor just how much of a stark contrast I was to the idyllic scene. The years I’d spent as a cursed amphibian had only isolated me from the kingdom, and worse, my family. Sitting at the dining table night after night, left me quiet and disconnected, while my family went on as I imagined they had for years without me. The courtiers had much to say about their theories of my previous life. I couldn’t stand to hear their remarks. Memories of the long nights, being confined in a body that had never truly been mine, feeling so far away from home…from my family. My manservant Henry had tried to tend to my every whim, except for the one I’d truly wanted the most—the freedom to be a man again. In the quiet evenings, when only the sounds of grasshoppers kept me company, I had imagined myself as I once had been, and it had filled me with a sadness I’d never known how to describe. I had dreamed of my return home, to the welcoming arms of my father and mother. But the reality of my return was not one of excitement, but uncertainty and fear.

I overheard the whispers about “the mysterious woman,” who had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. Her presence had unwittingly brought danger by luring the very man who had cursed me into the heart of the palace. Despite it being me who had bargained with the man called Rumpelstiltskin again, Josephine’s disappearance had left unanswered questions and an uneasy tension that permeated the palace walls.

The festivities below were a cruel reminder of the life I could have had but had lost.

I slid my hands over the cool stone of the balcony railing and closed my eyes. For so long, my life had been consumed by one purpose—breaking the curse with a true love’s kiss. I had never allowed myself to imagine what came after. I supposed that I would slip back into the role I had left as a young man. I would be welcomed back with open arms and take my place beside my father as his heir – his true heir. However, as that path had changed, I was forced to forge a new one —a life in which I would stand beside my brother as a symbol of unity. It was my duty to assist him in his new role, and it was an honor to do so – or so I was told. Even as I stood beside him in the glowing ballroom, I saw the hope in his eyes as he looked at me, and the quiet joy as his gaze shifted to his bride-to-be. The way he held her hand to his lips, the love that passed between them – it was clear. Charming would be a noble and worthy king, and I would serve him with unwavering loyalty.

Loosening the necktie of my tunic, I tilted my chin up towards the sky, gazing over the sparkling stars above. “Josephine…” I whispered.

In all honesty, despite my impeccable ability to keep track of the hours of a day as a frog, I had lost track of how many weeks had slipped by since the last time I had seen her. Had it been a fortnight? Longer? Or perhaps even shorter?

The memory of our last night was etched vividly in my mind. The gentle touch of her hand in mine, the sparkle of mischief in her dark brown eyes, and the softness of her laughter as I held her in my arms while we danced. I had been a fool not to kiss her then. Maybe if I had, she would have been able to stay by my side. I had ignored the silent plea in her eyes, ignored the gnawing in my stomach. I’d been so determined to fulfil the foolish bargain I’d made with Rumpelstiltskin, and it had made me so willingly blind.

I had known Josephine had been the one for me ever since seeing her with that irritating woodland man—Arch, with his untamed beard and wise eyes. For as insufferable as I found Arch to be, I knew it was because he was her friend. I had yearned for the warmth of her friendship, to be on the receiving end of her charms, her smiles.

I had also been a fool to deny the truth for so long, until it was too late. It was maddening how deeply Josephine had worked her way into my heart—only to be torn away before I could fully grasp it.

After the defeat of Rumpelstiltskin, Josephine was returned to her world by a mysterious woman. As the clock in the grand hall began to strike twelve, she dissolved before my very eyes, her form fading like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind nothing but the pair of glass slippers my mother had lent her. Instantly, my heart had been filled with longing. I had remained alone on the dance floor for several minutes until my brother pulled me away. In my manic desperation, I pleaded with my parents to allow me to search for her—to search for ‘the mysterious woman.’ They inevitably gave in to the request. Hours bled into days, and there was no trace of Josephine, nor the woman. It was as though Josephine had never existed in my world. Perhaps she hadn’t.

Since that moment, I had been haunted by the memory of her disappearance, by the ache of her absence that grew with each passing day. I missed her with a depth of longing that threatened to consume me. A yearning that gnawed at my soul and left me restless in the quiet hours of the night.

I knew I would never find her again. She’d claimed to come from another world that existed outside of my own. Many days, I found myself longing to retreat to my chambers and escape the routine of long meetings with my brother and silent dinners with my parents. I preferred to sit in the quiet darkness and bury my sorrows in a decanter of mead by my bedside. I hoped that if I stayed there long enough, the world outside would fade away, and with it, the ache in my heart.

Maybe then, the enchantress—the cruel and cunning one who had spirited Josephine from me would decide to grace me with her presence again. Many nights, I pictured her slipping into the room, her voice as dangerous as a snake’s whisper. She would look upon my pitiful state and offer to curse me back into the amphibious form I once loathed but now yearned for.

I knew I couldn’t let myself remain lost in those thoughts forever. As much as I wanted to linger in the past, I had a role to fulfill, just as I always had. It was time to reintegrate myself into my family, to reclaim my place—it sounded more noble than it felt. I had to come to terms with my brother’s ascension to the throne, and by the night’s end, I wanted to offer my congratulations to him and his soon-to-be bride convincingly. After all, who wouldn’t want to celebrate the fact that my dear brother would someday be the ruler I’d been trained to become? Duty demanded I play my part, and so I arrived, prepared—armed with charm and wit to navigate a room teeming with courtiers, who were more interested in gossip than actual conversation. I preferred the company of the men in the forest that Josephine and I had encountered to the people of my family’s kingdom.

I danced with many of the eligible women, aware that my participation would help pacify their gossip-hungry mothers. I moved through circles of small talk, offering pleasant smiles and well-rehearsed banter. With every conversation, I maintained an air of composure, masking my lingering thoughts of Josephine. It took considerable effort to hide my discomfort behind a polished facade, to act as though her absence didn’t linger like a shadow at the edge of my mind. I had learned to hide so much when I’d only been a few inches tall.

Opening my eyes, I stared out into the darkness and released a slow breath, letting the night air wash over me. I’d been gone long enough and didn’t want to give anyone a moment to question why I’d been gone for so long. I only had an hour more, and then it would be midnight, and I’d be able to depart from the festivities for good. I peered back up at the night sky, gazing at the brightest star above me. I hoped that wherever Josephine was, she too could see this star and think of me.

Perhaps it wasn’t very reasonable to hold onto that hope…to entertain such wishes. “Find me then,” were her last words to me, and yet here I was, unable to do even that.

“A drink would do me good,” I muttered to myself. I just needed a goblet of mead before I returned to the festivities. As I turned on my heel, something stirred in the shadows beside the velvet-curtained door, barely visible from the corner of my eye. I froze, my body tensing as I waited, my breath catching in my throat.

A faint rustling reached my ears as I watched the curtain sway on its own.

“Gerrit?” I asked, calling out the name of my valet. But there was nothing but silence. “I’m in no mood for games,” I continued. “Show yourself.”

Taking a step forward, I reached for the curtain. Almost on cue, a shadowed figure slowly emerged from behind. To my surprise, the figure was much smaller than I had expected, barely reaching half my height. There was a pause before the figure stepped into the faint light, illuminated by the moonlight. What I saw took me by surprise—a fairy! Her delicate wings shimmered like iridescent pearls as they caught the faint glow from above. She hovered before me, her wide violet eyes reflecting determination as she drifted closer.

“Who are you?” I asked, taking a step back. In truth, despite all the stories I had heard as a young boy, stories about witches and enchantresses, mermaids and trolls, I had never quite believed in fairies. The woman’s gown, a deep blue that sparkled under the moonlight, glistened as if woven from the very stars. Her hair, short and white, was pinned back with tiny glass baubles that gleamed faintly in the night. She looked ethereal, otherworldly—like something pulled from a dream.

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “I must speak with you.” Her words hung in the air as she paused in front of me. The timing, her sudden appearance, couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Did she come bearing news of Josephine? My thoughts raced between hope and dread.

“I am Lunelle,” she murmured. “A fairy of the stars.”

“The stars?” I echoed, disbelief mingling with curiosity. I had never imagined fairies could exist beyond the skies, let alone among the stars themselves. Was this how wishes were granted?

“My sisters and I observe from above,” Lunelle continued, her gaze centered on me. “We hear the wishes whispered from those down below. And we see everything.” Her eyes grew wide, and she gestured at the sky. “And I have seen something perilous, Your Highness. Something you must know.” Her final words fell to a whisper, delicate yet heavy with forewarning.

I forced my brow to remain calm, though frustration flared beneath my skin. “If you could elaborate,” I said dryly, my tone clipped but measured. Mystical proclamations were of little use without answers.

“Your brother, sire…” She continued. Her delicate features were etched with genuine concern. “Your brother is in grave danger.”

My heart skipped in my chest as I peered at her with wide eyes. My brother? I looked over my shoulder, listening to the soft melody of the ball taking place below. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“If he’s in danger, I must go to him,” I said firmly, attempting to move past her. If there were something to be done, I wouldn’t waste a moment standing idle. But before I could take another step, Lunelle’s small hand darted out, her fingers clutching the sleeve of my white tunic. Her grip, impossibly firm for her slight frame, held me fast. I pulled against her, but my feet felt rooted to the stone, as if the ground itself had conspired to keep me still.

“It is far too dangerous,” she murmured. “Neither you nor your brother is safe—at least not yet.”

My patience waned under the weight of her cryptic warnings. “You’d best explain yourself,” I snapped, my voice sharp with frustration. I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing. “Now.”

Lunelle released a shaky breath before replying, “There is an evil witch who has set her sights on you and your brother. She seeks to undermine you both, to plant herself in a seat of irrefutable power.”

“A witch?” I repeated, incredulously.

“One of the most powerful in all the land,” she continued, ignoring my question. “Her magic is dark, ancient, and fueled by envy.”

I narrowed my eyes, determination flaring in my chest. “If you release me, I can go directly to my father. Surely, he can do something about this.”

A bitter smile twisted her lips, and for the first time, a flicker of something almost human crossed her delicate features. “If it were that simple,” she said quietly, “do you not think I would have already alerted him?”

I gritted my teeth, frustration mounting. “Is this not exactly the sort of thing you’re supposed to handle? Instead of trapping me here, shouldn’t you be doing something about this witch?” If an enchantress had the power to send Josephine away with just a flick of her fingers, surely this fairy could deal with a rogue witch.

“You honor me with your compliment, Your Highness—”

“It was no compliment,” I interjected, scowling.

“But even my magic has limits.”

I let out a slow, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“There is…one person who can help you,” Lunelle said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “One person who can save your brother from making a grave mistake.”

“A mistake?” My mind reeled at her words. What in God’s teeth had Charming done now?

“It’s the woman he intends to marry,” she continued, her tone somber, her words deliberate. “She is not who she seems. The maiden he met a fortnight ago is no longer the one with whom he plans to exchange vows.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“You must find the one who can break the witch’s hold.”

“God’s teeth, not this again,” I muttered, frustration boiling over. Another vague warning, another puzzle without a key.

“You must find her,” the fairy pressed, her tone sharp now, cutting through my doubts.

“Her?” I repeated the word hanging in the air like a storm cloud. “Who? Who am I supposed to find?”

Lunelle leaned closer, her luminous eyes locking onto mine as she pulled her wand free from the waistband of her gown. With a simple touch against the sleeve of my tunic, I watched as my white royal finery was transformed into a simple blue tunic with a leather satchel on my side.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked, tugging on the simple fabric.

“Remember, Prince Aneurin,” she said, “The face you seek is not the face you see.”

“Speaking in riddles does nothing to aid this situation,” I retorted.

Before I could demand more answers from her, the fairy pulled out her wand. It gleamed in the moonlight as she pointed it toward me.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Lunelle said softly, almost regretfully. “But you will soon understand.”

In an instant, a blinding light erupted from the wand, enveloping me completely. I tried to shield my eyes, but the brightness was overwhelming. The ground vanished beneath me, and I felt weightless, as if flung through the air by an invisible force. The rush of wind roared in my ears, and my heart pounded in a frantic rhythm. When the light finally ebbed away, I gasped for air, disoriented and breathless. My feet landed unsteadily, and I stumbled, blinking rapidly as my surroundings came into focus.

The world around me had changed entirely.

Author Bio:

Chantal Gadoury is a best selling fairytale-retelling and romance author, living in the beautiful countryside of Muncy, Pennsylvania with her mom and family yorkie, Taran.

When Chantal isn't pursuing her next writing endeavor, she enjoys spending time with her loved ones, and taking long walks to the sounds of BTS. She is a TikTok enthusiast, loves all things Disney and loves a good, romantic K-Drama.

Chantal first started writing stories at the age of seven and continues that love of writing today. After graduating from Susquehanna University with a degree in Creative Writing, writing novels has become a dream come true.

Goodreads / Instagram / TikTok


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15 July, 2026

Mini Reviews: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings / Gather Together in My Name / Every Day I Read

 



Book 1: Every Day I Read by Hwang Bo-Reum

Before I even opened this book, I was already in love with the cover. It’s absolutely gorgeous. The kind of cover that makes you want to buy the book and hang a print of it on your wall.
Inside, Every Day I Read is a collection of short, thoughtful essays that are easy to dip into and surprisingly comforting. Hwang Bo-Reum’s passion for reading shines through every page, and her reflections on books, reading habits, and choosing what to read feel both personal and relatable.
One section that particularly stayed with me was her discussion about forgetting what we’ve read. As someone who occasionally panics after realizing I can barely remember the plot of a book I enjoyed six months ago, I found her perspective reassuring. Bo-Reum argues that books change us while we’re reading them, and that their impact remains even when the details fade. I needed that reminder.
At first, some of the advice felt almost too simple. After all, if you’re picking up a book about reading, chances are you don’t need much encouragement to read more. But as the essays build upon one another, they gradually create a thoughtful exploration of how books shape us intellectually, emotionally, and socially.
What resonated most was the belief that stories help us make sense of the world and ourselves. Fiction can bring order to internal and external chaos in ways that is difficult to explain.
A warm, reflective read for anyone who loves books and occasionally wonders why they matter so much.

Every Day I Read on Amazon


Book 2: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

You read it once and remember for a lifetime.
Maya Angelou’s memoir is heartbreaking, powerful, beautiful, and deeply human all at once. With remarkable honesty and grace, she recounts her childhood experiences, transforming personal pain into a story of resilience, identity, and self-discovery.
What amazed me most was Angelou’s voice. Even when writing about difficult and traumatic experiences, her prose remains lyrical, insightful, and filled with compassion. She has an extraordinary ability to make readers feel every emotion while never losing sight of hope.
I found myself pausing to reflect, and rereading sentences simply because they were so beautifully written. Few books manage to be both emotionally devastating and profoundly uplifting, but Angelou accomplishes exactly that.
An unforgettable classic that reminds us why Maya Angelou remains one of the most important literary voices of our time.

Book 3: Gather Together in My Name by Maya Angelou

Gather Together in My Name completely captivated me. Maya Angelou has an extraordinary ability to write about hardship, mistakes, resilience, and survival with such honesty that you can’t help but be drawn into her world. This memoir follows her young adulthood, and what unfolds is a journey that is often messy, heartbreaking, surprising, and deeply human.
What struck me most was Angelou’s refusal to present herself as flawless. She shares her experiences with remarkable candor, allowing readers to witness not only her struggles but also her growth. No matter what challenges life throws at her, Angelou moves forward with courage, curiosity, and determination. Even in her darkest moments, there is a sense of hope and resilience that shines through the pages.
Her writing is, unsurprisingly, magnificent. Every chapter feels alive with emotion, observation, and wisdom. Few authors can make everyday experiences feel so profound, but Angelou does it effortlessly.
An unforgettable memoir from one of the greatest voices in literature. Five stars on paper, ten stars in my heart.

Gather Together in My Name on Amazon




Other reviews that you may like:




13 July, 2026

Those who Shall Die by Michael Bradley

 

THOSE WHO SHALL DIE by Michael Bradley Banner

THOSE WHO SHALL DIE

by Michael Bradley

June 22 - July 17, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

THOSE WHO SHALL DIE by Michael Bradley

A collective of mystery writers, known as the Society of Fibbers, has captivated thousands with their addictive podcast—catapulting each member into the limelight. But when one of their own is found dead under chilling circumstances, the remaining Fibbers realize their newfound fame may have painted a target on their backs.

Rebecca Stanchion, one of the group’s co-founders, is convinced her friend’s murder is a tragic case of domestic violence—until a sinister attempt on her own life shatters that theory and threatens her family. Meanwhile, Zach Hargrove, a fellow writer, becomes obsessed with the cryptic black cards left at both crime scenes. Each card seems to whisper a warning: the killer is watching.

Is this the work of a fan driven to madness, or has betrayal seeped into the heart of the Society itself? As an annual writers’ conference approaches, Zach and Rebecca race against time to unmask the killer before the Society of Fibbers’ headline appearance turns into a deadly final act.

Praise for Those Who Shall Die:

"Michael Bradley has done it again! Those Who Shall Die is a thrilling novel of mystery and suspense, a tense and twisty page-turner that will leave you desperate to learn who is killing mystery authors and why."
~ Lisa Malice, bestselling author of Lest She Forget, winner of the 2023 IBPA Best New Voice in Fiction award.

"A well-written, clever whodunit with crafty twists that will keep readers guessing."
~ Jennifer Sadera, award-winning author of I Know She Was There.

"... keeps the reader's head spinning as secrets emerge, friendships fail, alliances dissolve, and animosities rise to surface until the final betrayal is revealed. A page turner that plumbs the depths of ambition, betrayal, and murder."
~ Jane Kelly, Author of the Meg Daniels mysteries.

Those Who Shall Die Book Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Amateur Sleuths, Suspense Thrillers
Published by: Initium Books
Publication Date: July 7, 2026
Number of Pages: 388
ISBN: 9780986200243 (ISBN10: 0986200247)
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

Zach Hargrove held the serrated hunting knife in a white-knuckled grip as he silently crept forward. No room for mistakes this time. This had to be silent, swift and deadly. Just one fierce thrust into the carotid artery. It would be messy, but she had to die.

Nellie sat—unmoving—in a black leather office chair, facing the third-floor windows that looked out over Old Mill Creek. If she was aware that he was behind her, she gave no sign. Her dark straggly hair hung over the back of the chair in tangled clumps. Zach couldn’t remember the last time he’d run a brush through it. She needed a wash too, but he’d given up on that long ago. Nellie had been exactly what he needed at first, but after so many years, she’d become more of a burden than a help. He hated having to move her heavy, awkward body from chair to chair, room to room. Caring for her had become arduous. No one would miss Nellie if he got rid of her . . .

Her head tilted to the right, blocking her neck from his view, and he hesitated. He wouldn’t be able to strike cleanly from this direction with her head tilted. He swapped the knife from his right hand to his left. The rubber handle felt awkward in his grasp. A few practice swings with his non-dominant hand felt odd and clumsy, so he tried some overhead plunges. Maybe he could stab Nellie in the back of the neck instead. A quick blow to sever her spinal cord, and she’d die in seconds. What if he yanked her head back and ran the knife across her neck, slitting it open from side to side? He shook his head. Too clichéd. Everyone slashed throats these days. He toyed, for a moment, with driving the knife through the back of the chair and into Nellie’s back. I’d never get the knife deep enough to kill her, he thought. She’d survive with a flesh wound—if that happened, he’d never hear the end of it.

With a frown, he shifted the knife back to his right hand and decided to continue with his original plan: one fast jab to the right side of the neck. Zach glanced at his prey. Nellie remained still, oblivious of what he was about to do. He inched forward, his gray Skechers silent on the plush beige carpet. His fingers tightened on the knife handle, and he drew his arm back. The muscles on his shoulder were taut, but his arm had a slight tremble. He had to get this right on the first try.

After two more cautious steps, he stood behind Nellie, staring down at a scalp of unkempt hair. Oh, how he hated that hair. With one barbaric swing, he brought his arm down, but the blow didn’t go quite as planned. The knife tip deflected off her head, tangled in a clump of hair, and plunged into Nellie’s shoulder.

“Damn it,” Zach shouted.

He stood for a moment, studying his handiwork. Nellie slumped forward, the knife standing tall in her shoulder.

He tried to withdraw the knife slowly, but the serrated blade caught on several threads and tore the seam in Nellie’s shoulder. Clumps of polyester stuffing—like giant cotton balls—tumbled out of the hole and fell to the floor. Zach let out a long sigh as he placed the knife on the nearby desk. Now he’d have to sew her up. He spun the office chair around and stared at Nellie. Her featureless face and black button eyes stared blankly back at him. Patches—both big and small—covered her arms, abdomen, head, and legs—scars of the many instances of his mistreatment.

“I’m glad you don’t hold a grudge,” he said.

Zach wrapped his arms around the life-size dummy and lifted her out of the chair, her canvas skin rough on his bare arms. A trail of white filling marked his steps as he manhandled her across the room and propped her up on the sofa.

Dropping into his desk chair, he reviewed the previous few paragraphs he’d written just before he attempted to kill Nellie. The murder scene “seemed” to flow, but he wasn’t satisfied with the way it turned out. His antagonist—the mysterious Mr. Price—had entered the home of Dallas Kincaid with the intention of killing Kincaid’s new girlfriend. But Zach had found the scene difficult to write. There was something about the logistics that bothered him, hence his attempt to “kill” Nellie, his long-time partner for acting out crime scenes. For her part, Nellie had endured a dozen or more stabbings, being thrown from windows, run over by cars, and even shot twice. And yet she never once complained.

Zach stood again, snatched a Bic pen from the desk, and paced around the room, pausing on occasion to glance out the windows that covered all four walls. The third floor of his house, his “Author’s Loft,” as he liked to call it, had a 360-degree view of the surrounding yard as well as the creek that flowed past the back of his property. The small Delaware town of Lewes hadn’t been his first choice of places to call home. But when he’d first toured the house three years ago, the bright openness of the room couldn’t have been more perfect for him. It satisfied his need for a place to write, and the room’s openness was preferred over the more confined spaces he’d seen in every other house he’d toured. He’d put an offer on the place immediately and moved in a month later.

As he paced, Zach furiously clicked the button on the pen with his thumb. He passed the lone bookshelf, stuck in the corner between the adjoining walls’ windows, and paused to study the colorful hardback spines of his previous eight Dallas Kincaid Mystery novels. Five of them had become New York Times bestsellers, but not the last two. His protagonist, Dallas Kincaid, had become increasingly more difficult to write over the past couple years. The character had become too clichéd, too much like every other amateur detective in the market, and Zach was struggling to keep each new book fresh and original. He was ready for something new, something different.

“This will be the last Kincaid novel,” he’d told his agent, Mariah Maddison.

“Don’t be too hasty,” she’d said. “You might regret those words once the book is released.”

With a sigh, Zach slipped the Bic pen into his pants pocket, returned to his desk, and hovered his fingers over the keyboard of his laptop. He stared at the text on the screen, the words fading together into a jumble of pixels that made no more sense than when he’d read them a few minutes ago.

Pushing back from the desk, he growled, “Hell,” and stood, rounding the half wall that hid the stairs from view and descended into the house below.

In the kitchen, Zach grabbed a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale from the fridge, twisted the top off and took a long sip. A calendar—tacked to a nearby corkboard—was open to the month of June. A quick glance over the dates made his stomach churn. He had until mid-July to finish the first draft of the next Dallas Kincaid novel. That gave him six weeks. The manuscript was only thirty percent done. He sighed as he eyeballed the next few weeks. There was an upcoming recording session for the Society of Fibbers podcast. A book signing with Jasper Stone and Martina Vargas in Virginia. He flipped up the calendar page and looked over July. The week after Independence Day was blocked out for ThrillNYC in New York City. Damn, that only gives me five weeks to finish the book. His stomach twisted in knots as his anxiety rose.

Zach moved through the open dining room to the sliding glass door, stepped onto his back deck, and gazed out across the creek. The tide was out, and the muddy banks were exposed to the Tuesday afternoon sun. An eagle was perched in the tree that hung over the water. The lush cordgrass stood tall along the edges of the creek, outlining the maze of the twisting waterway. A gentle breeze rustled the tips of the grass. The faint aroma of marsh water punctuated each deep breath. So peaceful. So relaxing. He closed his eyes and listened to the tranquility around him. But it did little to subdue the angst within him. When was his next therapy appointment? Maybe it was time to try some of the meds his therapist had so often suggested.

From within the house, the shrill of his mobile phone interrupted the serenity of the moment. Moving back into the kitchen, he scooped up the phone from the counter where he’d left it.

The voice that greeted him was grave and somber. “Zach? It’s Rebecca. Something terrible has happened. Martina Vargas is dead.”

***

Excerpt from Those Who Shall Die by Michael Bradley. Copyright 2026 by Michael Bradley. Reproduced with permission from Michael Bradley. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Michael Bradley

Michael Bradley is an award-winning author from Delaware who started life as a radio disc jockey, working at stations in New Jersey and West Virginia. His time in radio provided him with a wealth of fond, enduring, and sometimes scandalous memories that he hopes to one day commit to paper.

After spending eight years “on-the-air,” he realized that he needed to get a real job. He has spent the next twenty or so years working in Information Technology. And yes, he has said “try turning it off and on again” more times than he wants to admit.

Never one to waste an experience, he used his familiarity with life on the radio for many of his suspense novels. His third novel, DEAD AIR (2020), won a Foreword INDIES Award and a IBPA Benjamin Franklin Award.

Learn more about Michael Bradley and his books:

mbradleyonline.com
Amazon Author Profile
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BookBub - @mjbradley88
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11 July, 2026

Get Gribnitz by Howard Gimple

 

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GET GRIBNITZ

by Howard Gimple

June 29 - July 24, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Get Gribnitz by Howard Gimple

Howard Gimple, master of the comedy thriller, takes on the world of advertising in his funniest, snarkiest, most entertainingly irreverent book yet.

Stew Gribnitz is a brilliant advertising copywriter with impulse control issues, an utter disdain for authority, and an unresolved demi-Oedipal complex (he’d like to murder his father but has no sexual designs on his mother). When the first act of his new creative director is to dump our hero’s best work into a garbage bin, Stew’s immediate impulse (which, of course, he can’t control) is to do unspeakable things to his new boss’s necktie while he’s still wearing it.

The next day, when the necktie guy is found brutally murdered, Stew is brought in for questioning by the NYPD. He’s released thanks to an air-tight alibi, but not before his face is emblazoned on the cover of the New York tabloids, declaring him to be a cross between Son of Sam and Jack the Ripper. Stew becomes a Madison Avenue untouchable and a New York City pariah, except to his father who declares that seeing his son on the front page of his favorite paper is the first time that Stew has ever done anything to make him proud.

Stew gets a gig as a part-time advertising consultant to a billionaire publisher running for Governor of Connecticut who’s twenty points behind in the polls. When the publisher’s private plane does a nosedive into Long Island Sound, Stew is the only one who knows that his deceased client had been receiving death threats from his opponent, a former FBI agent whose brother is a mob enforcer.

Stew is convinced he’ll be the next victim and the authorities are convinced he’s a multiple murderer. The only way to clear his name is to find the real killer or killers, a task, well beyond his skill set, made even more difficult because the FBI, the NYPD, several suburban police jurisdictions and a homicidal hitwoman are all out to GET GRIBNITZ.

Praise for Get Gribnitz:

"...the perfect mystery novel"
~ Readers' Favorite

"…a deliciously entertaining, fun, and exciting read from cover to cover."
~ The Mystery Review Crew

Book Details:

Genre: Mystromedy
Published by: Mystromedy Books
Publication Date: July 1, 2024
Number of Pages: 348
ISBN: 9798990761575
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

On my way to the house I’m hoping Moish isn’t home. But as soon as I walk in there he is, standing in the living room, holding the Post in one hand and the News in the other.

I gird myself for what’s coming. “So I guess you read about me in the paper.”

His smile gets broader. “You bet I did.”

“It was all a huge misunderstanding. Believe it or not, you’re my alibi. I was here with you last night when it happened.”

He sticks his thumb in the air. “Of course you were. I’ll back you up a hundred percent. Just tell me what time I was supposed to be here and I’ll swear on a pile of Bibles.” He winks at me. “Old Testament, of course.”

“No, really.”

He shakes his head. “This is better. We were here together all night, playing pinochle. Wait a minute, you never learned to play pinochle. How about gin rummy? You know how to play gin rummy. Of course you do. Any moron can play gin rummy.”

“Pop, listen to me. We don’t have to make up a story. If it ever comes up, just tell the truth.”

“Okay, son,” he says, still grinning. “Whatever you say. But I still think the gin rummy routine is the way to go.”

Son? He never calls me son. Putz, schmendrick or shmuck with earlaps, which for my father is the absolute worst thing you can be, are his usual terms of endearment for me, but son? Never.

Since my mother died, giving me a hard time has become my father’s favorite pastime. Even more than playing cards or going to the track. After forty-five years of arguing with her, he needed someone else to yell at. Not that he didn’t yell at me when she was alive, it’s just that she was his number-one target. She told me that he never means anything by it. She used to say, “When he gets quiet, that’s when you have to worry. As long as he’s yelling, everything’s fine.”

That’s why I’m so confused. Here’s the perfect chance for him to tell me what a shmuck I am for getting myself into this mess, instead he’s kvelling like I just won the Nobel Prize.

“You did see the paper, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I bought extra copies. I’m gonna hand them out to everyone at the track.”

“And you’re not upset?”

“Upset?” He puffs out his chest. “I’ve never been prouder.”

“But everyone thinks I’m a cold-blooded murderer.”

“I know.” There’s that grin again. “It’s terrific.”

“I don’t get it.”

“What’s to get? You finally made a name for yourself. Made it to the front page. The page that’s usually reserved for presidents, governors and generals. And now my boy is right up there with them.”

“They made me look like a homicidal maniac. It’s not the same.”

“You’re right. It’s better.”

At this point I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there with my mouth open.

“You know where I grew up, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. Brownsville. Chester Street, right?”

“You know my mother had a chicken market around the corner on Dumont Avenue?”

“Of course. You told me that story a hundred times. They called her the Chicken Lady. She made you get up at five in the morning to pluck chickens before you went to school. Made you come back before you went to bed to sweep up.”

“She was a hard woman, my mother. She had to be. After that goddamn flu killed my father, she had three babies to feed. But that doesn’t matter now.” His eyes start to twinkle. And Moish wasn’t usually a twinkler. “Do you know what was down the street from my mother’s store?”

I shrug.

“Rosie Gold’s candy store.”

“Okaaaaay?”

“You know who hung around Rosie’s?”

“Not a clue.”

He puffs out his chest. I’m thinking it’s gonna be some old-time Jewish sports hero like Kingfish Levinsky or Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom.

“Murder, Incorporated. That’s who. The toughest SOBs in the country. And they were all Jews. Louis Lepke, Abe Reles, Buggsy Goldstein. Killers, every one of them. Everybody feared them. The Italians, the Irish, the coloreds. They had class too. Money, women, fancy cars, you name it. When I was a kid, twelve or thirteen, I’d sneak out of my mother’s shop and hang around outside Rosie’s. Those guys loved me. They treated me like I was their little mascot. Their good-luck charm. I’d run errands for them. Bring them cigarettes, drinks, the paper. Whatever they wanted. And they’d throw me a twenty-dollar tip like it was a nickel. You know what that’s worth today? Five hundred dollars. I was a snot-nosed pisher with more money in my pocket than most of the grown men in the neighborhood. In a couple of years I coulda been one of them.”

I don’t know whether to be impressed or aghast. “So what happened?”

He shrugs. “This and that. Reles turned rat. Then he fell out of a hotel window. Pretty soon they were all dead or in jail. The Depression hit. The war happened. I spent five years in the Philippines shooting Japs. And when I came home I married your mother.”

I’m a little taken aback that he puts marrying my mother in the same category as the Second World War and the Great Depression.

“Besides, when your grandmother found out what I was doing, she beat the living crap outta me. Told me if she ever caught me hanging around with those bums again she’d pluck me like one of her chickens.”

“Let me get this straight, your childhood dream was to be a gangster?”

“It was different then, not like the scum-bums you see now. Back then, if you were in the rackets you were somebody, a big shot, a mensch.”

“So seeing my commercials on TV and the awards I won, that all means nothing to you, but having everybody in New York think I’m the Jewish Dillinger, that you’re proud of?”

“It’s not like you’re a senator or governor, but it’s something.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but I really didn’t do it.”

“Whatever you say.” He pauses for a second. “Listen, do you know Shifty, the bookie from back in our old neighborhood?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“He’s been giving me a hard time. He says I owe him some money but he’s fulla shit.”

“How much money?”

“I dunno, two . . . three hundred.”

“Dollars?”

“No, kishkes. Of course dollars.”

“And you’re sure you don’t owe him the money?”

“Of course I’m sure. You think I wouldn’t remember something like that?”

I don’t say anything.

“He says he’s gonna come over here with some leg breakers and take it if I don’t give it to him. How about you pay him a little visit and convince him to lay off?” He holds up the paper and grins. “He’ll listen to you.”

“Listen, Pop. I’m not a thug. I don’t even play one on TV. There’s no way I’m gonna threaten your bookie or anybody else.”

He shoots me a scornful smirk. “I shoulda known you didn’t have the guts.” He walks to the bathroom. Before he shuts the door he looks at me with disgust and shouts, “Putz!”

***

Excerpt from GET GRIBNITZ by Howard Gimple. Copyright 2026 by Howard Gimple. Reproduced with permission from Howard Gimple. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Howard Gimple

I’ve been writing for my supper for most of my adult life. First as a copywriter and creative director for several ad agencies. After I aged out of the advertising business (you’re a dinosaur at 35), I wrote English dialogue for the American releases of Japanese anime cartoons, reviewed movies for a pay-per-view television network, and was the editor of a newsletter for the New York Giants football team. I wrote the lyrics for a song used in the soundtrack of the horror film THE REJUVENATOR as well as the fight song for Stony Brook University, where I was a writer and sports editor for their alumni magazine and taught two classes, Rock and Relevance, about the influence of classic rock on politics and Filthy Shakespeare about the sexy bits of the Bard’s plays and poems that they don’t usually teach. Several of my stories have been featured in Akashic Books’ Mondays are Murder online noir series. I recently finished work on The Garbageman, a documentary about a trash hauler who saved the lives of 50,000 children in underprivileged countries with congenital heart disease. And if you’ve gotten this far on the website, you know about my novels.

After living in Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Long Island, I headed west to Glendora, California, with my wife and Goldendoodle.

Catch Up With Howard Gimple:

HowardGimple.com
Amazon Author Profile
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10 July, 2026

Mini Review: Nerdplay by Annabel Chase



Nerdplay is the kind of book that feels like a warm hug for anyone who’s ever found their people in an unexpected place.

What I loved most was the camp’s welcoming atmosphere. The found-family dynamic is wonderfully done, creating a space where everyone can embrace their interests without judgment. The quirky supporting cast adds plenty of charm, making the camp feel like a community you’d happily move into if fictional real estate were a thing.

Cricket and Charlie were equally delightful. Their chemistry feels natural, their banter is consistently entertaining, and their relationship develops in a way that is both sweet and satisfying. Charlie’s journey was especially rewarding. Watching him evolve from a tightly wound lawyer into someone willing to embrace his inner nerd and discover where he truly belongs added real emotional depth to the story.

My only reservation was that the central conflict occasionally felt a little too low-key. Given the legal and financial issues driving the plot, I expected higher stakes and a bit more tension. The story remains engaging throughout, but a stronger sense of urgency would have elevated it even further.

That said, the heart of this book lies in its characters, relationships, and sense of belonging. If you’re a fan of found family, nerdy passions, lovable side characters, and romances built on genuine connection, Nerdplay is an easy recommendation.

Amazon



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08 July, 2026

The Midas Touch by Gary Grossman, Oren Aviv, & Charles Segars

 

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THE MIDAS TOUCH

by Gary Grossman, Oren Aviv, & Charles Segars

June 29 - July 24, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

THE MIDAS TOUCH by Gary Grossman, Oren Aviv, & Charles Segars

National Treasure meets Jack Ryan in THE MIDAS TOUCH

July 19, 1799. Napoleon’s armies advance into Egypt. In the steaming desert sands, his explorers unearth an astounding discovery: The Rosetta Stone. The tablet, cracked and incomplete, will eventually answer mysteries about ancient Egyptian history, culture, and science. But in the years since its partial excavation, world leaders, historians, scientists, and adventurers have speculated that the missing fragments could answer another age-old mystery.

THE MIDAS TOUCH is a globe-trotting adventure that follows CIA cryptologist/puzzle solver/savant Brady Donovan as he investigates the murder of his beloved mentor Dr. Hastings Kaufman, only to find that it leads to a search for the missing pieces of the famed Rosetta Stone and the secret it holds: The Alchemist Gold Theory – how to turn ordinary metals into gold.

Protagonist Brady Donovan partners with British archeologist Teppy Flynn and conspiracy theorist Avery Prophet. Only a heartbeat away is a diabolical Silicon Valley tech giant, D’Arcy Lauren Granier, and her henchmen.

The quest takes them through Napoleonic history and into a contemporary race through the streets of London, America’s backroads, the Caribbean, New Orleans’ French Quarter, Napoleon’s last island prison in the Atlantic, the Louisiana Bayou, and a massive, abandoned salt mine where pirate Jean Lafitte hid his treasures.

History, told in vivid flashbacks, jumps back to 1799 Egypt, and forward through the hundreds of years since, with pirates and presidents on the search for better or worse. Now Brady Donovan fights against the fast- ticking clock, relentless bad guys, and a Category 5 hurricane to where past meets present and greed and betrayal become deadly partners.

THE MIDAS TOUCH is written by international award-winning thriller writer Gary Grossman with Charles Segars and Oren Aviv, the creators of the billion-dollar National Treasure movie franchise.

Praise for THE MIDAS TOUCH:

"A perfect piece of entertainment with characters and a story that never disappoints. Poignant in places, nail-biting in others, the plot is accentuated by a take-no-prisoners attitude, similar to speeding down a slalom course with all its twists and turns. It's quite a ride!"
~ Steve Berry New York Times best-selling author

"The Midas Touch is a thrilling ride through history and modern-day, tantalizing the reader with intrigue, action, and adventure across a labyrinth of archaeological secrets and danger."
~ Raymond Benson, New York Times best-selling James Bond novelist

"Fans of The DaVinci Code will love The Midas Touch. Grossman, Segars, and Aviv have created an iconic character in Brady Donovan, a CIA cryptologist who trades in his pen for tradecraft to protect the world from a devastating economic weapon. Gripping prose, unforgettable settings, and non-stop excitement. A real page turner!"
~ K.J. Howe, international bestselling author of Skyjack writes

THE MIDAS TOUCH Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Suspense, Mystery, History Fiction, Globe-Hopping Intrigue
Published by: Fayetteville Mafia Press
Publication Date: June 2, 2026
Number of Pages: 334
ISBN: 9781949024999 (ISBN10: 1949024997)
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | BookBub

 

Gary Grossman:

Gary Grossman

THE MIDAS TOUCH is written by international award-winning thriller writer Gary Grossman (OLD EARTH, the EXECUTIVE ACTIONS and RED HOTEL series) with Charles Segars and Oren Aviv, the creators and executive producers of the exciting and popular Nicholas Cage NATIONAL TREASURE movie franchise.

Catch Up With Gary Grossman:

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Charles Segars:

Charles Segars

CHARLES SEGARS has served as a senior executive at Viacom, CBS, The Walt Disney Company, DreamWorks Pictures, and DreamWorks Animation. Segars is also known as Creator and Executive Producer of the Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures hit movie franchise, National Treasure and National Treasure: Book of Secrets.
Currently, Segars enjoys a dual role as CEO of Ovation TV, the only multi-platform program service dedicated to the Arts and as President of Segars Media.
Segars is a respected global safety and security analyst. He advises a number of national security-related technology startups and is actively involved in governmental affairs.He has served as a White House Associate as an Advance Team leader for the Office of the President and Vice President of the United States of America, leading a number of secretive domestic and international trips.

 

Oren Aviv:

Charles Segars

OREN AVIV ran Disney Studios from 2006-2010, after heading Disney Marketing for eight years. He became Disney’s first Chief Content Officer, and after leaving Disney he became CMO for 20th Century Fox Studios. In addition to executive producing a dozen films, he also co-created and was Executive Producer of Disney’s National Treasure film franchise.
Aviv was named “Marketer of the Year” three separate times by Advertising Age Magazine. He created breakthrough campaigns for the studio’s NARNIA, STEP UP, Pirates of the Caribbean, and the National Treasure franchises, and launched memorable campaigns for many of Pixar’s animated hits, including Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc., The Incredibles and Cars. He also launched blockbusters such as The Sixth Sense; Pearl Harbor; Ransom; The Rock; Signs; The Waterboy; Armageddon; Unbreakable; 101 Dalmatians; Con Air; Crimson Tide; Freaky Friday; and Father of the Bride, as well as hundreds of other films under the Disney, Touchstone and Hollywood Pictures banners. As CMO at 20th Century Fox, Aviv created the campaigns for Rise of the Planet of the Apes; X-Men: First Class; Ridley Scott’s Prometheus; The Wolverine starring Hugh Jackman; and Ang Lee’s Oscar-winning Life of Pi.
As head of production at Disney, Aviv was responsible for greenlighting such hits as THE PROPOSAL starring Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds; Tim Burton’s billion-dollar-grossing Alice in Wonderland; Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End; National Treasure: Book of Secrets; and the Amy Adams musical-comedy Enchanted.

 

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06 July, 2026

The Vanishers by R. G. Belsky

 

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THE VANISHERS

by R. G. Belsky

June 15 - July 10, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Vanishers by R. G. Belsky

Megan Foley knows she saw the little boy. So why does everyone at the perfect seaside house insist he never existed? The house was perfect. That was its first lie.

When Megan and her husband Patrick accept an invitation to spend the summer at a luxurious house share in Stone Beach, Connecticut, everything seems too good to be true. The rent is absurdly low. The host, Mrs. Monahan, is attentive to the point of unease. The other guests are pleasant — until they aren't.

One day, Megan sees a boy, Tommy, playing… and the next, Tommy is simply gone. Not moved. Not spoken of. Erased, as though he never existed. All the other guests at the house look at Megan blankly when she asks.

One by one, the guests succumb to long hours in front of the television in a glassy trance. Patrick grows cold and distant. Something stirs in the attic.

Megan alone seems immune — but for how long? As she begins to doubt herself and the house tightens its hold, she must confront the terrifying truth about Mrs. Monahan, the attic room, and the price of a perfect summer.

A chilling gothic thriller for fans of atmospheric domestic horror — available in Kindle Unlimited.

Book Details:

Genre: Paranormal Gothic Thriller
Published by: dp DIGITAL PUBLISHERS
Publication Date: May 7, 2026
Number of Pages: 298
ISBN: 978-1918343335
Book Links: Amazon | KindleUnlimited | Goodreads | dp DIGITAL PUBLISHERS

Read an excerpt from The Vanishers:

PROLOGUE

Hudson Lake, Michigan

I know everyone in this diner is looking at me like I’m strange.

Well, I’m sure used to that by now. It wasn’t always that way, of course. I mean I’m blonde-haired, just turned 30 and once – a million years or so ago before the terrible times happened – people said I was pretty. But now I realize that I look old beyond my years. I’ve lost a lot of weight, my face is pale and gaunt and I’m trembling noticeably right now even though it is the first real warm day of spring.

I make my way unsteadily over to a stool at the diner’s counter and sit there quietly, without talking, even when a guy comes over and asks for my order.

“What’ll it be, ma’am?” he smiles.

I stare at him with a confused look on my face. Nothing people say these days - even simple questions like that - seem to make sense to me anymore.

“Ma’am,” he repeats.

“Pardon?”

“My name is Danny. Danny Heller. I own this place. What do you want?”

I think about if for a second, then say: “Do you think I could have some tea?”

“Tea, sure.”

He walks over to the kitchen area, pours a cup and brings it back to me.

“How about something to eat?” he asks. “A sandwich. Some soup. Maybe a nice piece of pie. We got some nice pies today. Apple. Cherry. Lemon meringue.”

“Lemon meringue?”

“Sure. Want a piece?”

I nod. “Yes, that would be nice.”

Danny Heller cuts an extra large slice of the pie, places it onto a plate and carries it back to where I am sitting. I begin eating. Silently and without any emotion. Just like I do everything else now.

“Are you from around here?” he asks.

“No, not from around here.”

What’s your name?

“Uh, I’m Megan…

“Well, I’m glad to meet you, Megan. Are you just visiting around these parts?”

“I’m…,” I hesitate, because it’s painful to say the words., “I’m…looking for a vacation house.”

“Hey we’ve got some good ones. The lake this time of year is one of the prettiest spots in all of Michigan. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Have you looked at many houses?”

“Not here. Other places.”

“You’ve been traveling then?”

“Yes, I’ve been traveling quite a bit.”

The truth is I have been traveling for nearly a year. I started back east, moving from resort town to resort town along the New England coast. When fall came, I started moving down along the coast toward the winter resorts. Miami Beach. The Gold Coast. The Gulf Shore. Then, with the advent of spring, I had come north and inland to look at lake areas. Ohio. Minnesota. And now Michigan.

In all the places, I’ve done the same thing. Gone through ads for house rentals. Checked with real estate brokers. Driven aimlessly around shore areas looking.

Always looking.

Looking for the house.

The house I can never forget.

The house of my nightmares.

“We have some local house listings on that bulletin board over there,” Danny Heller says, pointing to a wall at the end of the counter. “People with a place to rent put stuff up there. Maybe you’ll find something you want.”

I get up from my stool and walk over to the bulletin board.

Looking through the ads posted on the bulletin board without really expecting to find anything.

But then I see it.

And I scream!

I scream so loudly that everyone in the diner stops eating and looks at me.

It’s a scream that keeps gathering momentum as it goes on like a runaway train, terrifying everyone there.

“What’s wrong?” Danny says, rushing over to where I’m standing by the bulletin board.

I point to a picture of a house in one of the ads.

“It’s here,” I whisper.

“What?”

“The house.”

And it is.

The house I’ve been looking for.

The house from Pleasant Street.

“I don’t understand,” Danny is saying.

“It’s the house,” I sob. “Oh, my God, it really is the same house…”

***

Excerpt from The Vanishers by R. G. Belsky. Copyright 2026 by R. G. Belsky. Reproduced with permission from R. G. Belsky. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

R. G. Belsky

R.G. Belsky is an award-winning author of crime fiction and a journalist in New York City. His newest mystery, THE VANISHERS, was published by dp DIGITAL PUBLISHERS. Belsky has published 26 novels. He also writes thrillers under the name Dana Perry. And he is a contributing writer for The Big Thrill magazine and BookTrib.

Catch Up With R. G. Belsky:

www.RGBelsky.com
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BookBub - @dickb79983
Instagram - @dickbelsky
Threads - @dickbelsky
X - @DickBel
Facebook - @RGBelsky

 

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03 July, 2026

Mini Review: The Answer Is No by Fredrik Backman (Translated by Elizabeth DeNoma)

 



The Answer Is No is one of those rare books that somehow manages to be hilarious, insightful, and deeply relatable all at once.

Every time I read it, I find myself loving it just as much as the first time. There’s something about Lucas that feels uncannily familiar. His desire to be left alone, his bewilderment at the strange social expectations people place on one another, and his quiet determination to protect his carefully constructed life all resonate far more than I probably should admit.

In many ways, reading this novella feels like being seen in a way where an author captures a particular type of person so perfectly that you start wondering if they’ve been secretly taking notes on your life.

Backman balances humor and humanity beautifully, turning what could have been a simple story about an introvert into a thoughtful exploration of boundaries, community, and the messy business of being around other people. Which is unfortunate, because some of us were quite committed to avoiding exactly that.

Short, clever, funny, and surprisingly profound, this is one of my all-time favorite novellas and an easy five-star read every single time.

Amazon


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