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Tuesday, November 4, 2025

Supernatural Mystery Graphic Novel Kickstarter: The Return of Cyrus Perkins by Dave Dwonch

The Return of Cyrus Perkins
Celebrate the 10th anniversary of the original series with the Haunted Taxi Cab Hardcover of the original four-issue series and the long-awaited sequel, Cyrus Perkins and the Death Brigade #1.
Kickstarter

Hard to believe it's been 10 years since I reviewed Cyrus Perkins and the Haunted Taxi Cab by Dave Dwonch!

Dave is one of my favorite comic writers. All four issues of Cyrus Perkins got 5 sheep from me. You can read my reviews here:
If you missed this awesome supernatural mystery comic the first time around, you can support the Kickstarter and get the original story and the first issue of the sequel.
Join the Kickstarter




After a young boy named Michael Bernbaum dies in his taxi cab, driver Cyrus Perkins must solve the boy's murder... or be haunted by the spirit trapped in his car! But as Cyrus digs into the mystery surrounding Mikey's death, he uncovers something even more sinister than murder.  
 
Drawn by Anna Lencioni (storyboard artist: Amphibia, Hazbin Hotel, Luck) and written, colored and lettered by Dave Dwonch (The Loose End, Jenny Zero, The Automaton), Cyrus Perkins and the Haunted Taxi Cab has been hailed as:  
"Accessible to horror newcomers while retaining an ever present air of spookiness that old fans have come to love." Fangoria.com




About the Author:

Linktree
Dave Dwonch has been a comics writer and artist producing indie titles for over a decade. Recently he penned several titles, most notably Jenny Zero for Dark Horse comics (with co-creator Brockton MccKinney, Cyrus Perkins and the Haunted Taxi Cab, Vamplets (with Gayle "My Little Pony" Middleton), and CBR's Top 100 series, Double Jumpers.

He has also worked in other media, working with the narrative team for Playful's Nintendo Switch game, New Super Lucky's Tale, as well as creating properties for the NFL, UFC and more.

Monday, November 3, 2025

New Release: The Place Where They Buried Your Heart by Christina Henry

In THE PLACE WHERE THEY BURIED YOUR HEART, Christina Henry brings a crumbling manor to life, and it embodies a menacing character all its own. But the novel is also a story about the line between naivety and neglect—it’s meditative and so very human.


The Place Where They Buried Your Heart
by Christina Henry
Nov 4, 2025
Genre: horror
A woman must confront the evil that has been terrorizing her street since she was a child in this gripping haunted house novel from the national bestselling author of The House That Horror Built and Good Girls Don’t Die.


On an otherwise ordinary street in Chicago, there is a house. An abandoned house where, once upon a time, terrible things happened. The children who live on this block are told by their parents to stay away from that house. But of course, children don’t listen. Children think it’s fun to be scared, to dare each other to go inside.

Jessie Campanelli did what many older sisters do and dared her little brother Paul. But unlike all the other kids who went inside that abandoned house, Paul didn’t return. His two friends, Jake and Richie, said that the house ate Paul. Of course adults didn’t believe that. Adults never believe what kids say. They thought someone kidnapped Paul, or otherwise hurt him. They thought Paul had disappeared in a way that was ordinary, explainable.

The disappearance of her little brother broke Jessie’s family apart in ways that would never be repaired. Jessie grew up, had a child of her own, kept living on the same street where the house that ate her brother sat, crouched and waiting. And darkness seemed to spread out from that house, a darkness that was alive—alive and hungry. 
PRAISE FOR CHRISTINA HENRY
“The Place Where They Buried Your Heart is a cosmic blast of haunted house horror in which Christina Henry explores the complex bonds of families—both the ones we lose and the ones we gain—and how those relationships can be found in the most unexpected of places. It’s a story about monsters, and murder, and loss, but it’s also a story about the ferocity of love, and the improbable ways it can capture our hearts.” - Philip Fracassi, author of Boys in the Valley

“This book is a celebration of horror films, but what will stick with readers is the relationship between Harry and her son, Daniel. A lumbering costume is fun to read about, but Harry’s past and her precarious finances are the real monsters here. Henry’s spooky tale has a scary face, but it has a heart of gold.”

—The New York Times for The House That Horror Built

“Henry captures the epic scale of the best horror movies, and her passion for monstrosity comes through clearly.”

—Publishers Weekly for The House That Horror Built

“Henry’s latest is a spine-chilling post-pandemic thriller with plenty of pop-culture references that will appeal to horror fans.”

—Booklist for The House That Horror Built 


About the Author:
CHRISTINA HENRY is a horror and dark fantasy author whose works include Horseman, Near the Bone, The Ghost Tree, Looking Glass, The Girl in Red, The Mermaid, Lost Boy, Alice, Red Queen, and the seven-book urban fantasy Black Wings series.
Learn more online at www.christinahenry.net.

Friday, October 31, 2025

Dystopian SciFi: Rhythm Sword Warriors by Lara J Nance + excerpt

Lara J. Nance’s Rhythm Sword Warriors plunges readers into a breathtaking mix of science fiction, suspense, and soul—where rhythm is power, and love may be humanity’s last defense.

Nance’s narrative pulses with intensity, weaving themes of redemption, leadership, and the healing force of music through a world on the brink of annihilation.

Rhythm Sword Warriors
by Lara J Nance
October 3, 2025
She trained to forget, now she fights for Earth.

For twenty years, Calena has lived underground, haunted by the memory of her mother's death at the hands of invading aliens. Her only escape was Rhythm Sword, a virtual reality game where glowing sabers slice through endless waves of cubes and bombs.

Now, she must accept love to rise from the shadowy depths of her depression and lead a ragtag army of gamers-turned-soldiers to face the monsters that threaten humanity's very existence The final battle has begun, and every beat could be her last. 

Amazon-Goodreads

“We have a very unique situation that we want to speak to you about. I’ll just jump right in. Dr. Harding has discovered an element that will destroy a Metavalent.” The general gestured to Blake.

Calena sucked in a breath of surprise. “The hell? I thought that was impossible.”

Blake nodded. “We’ve been researching options ever since the invasion, and this is the first breakthrough we’ve had. Given the structure of the aliens and the way they are able to move, finding a way to attack them has been very difficult.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Kelvin asked, an edge to his tone. This was his domain, and he appeared increasingly angry with the interruption from outsiders.

A few gamers emerged from rooms and glanced at the newcomers uncertainly, as if unsure whether they meant trouble. They edged to the periphery of the room, staring while hugging backpacks to their chests.

Carla noticed them and held up a hand. “We’re looking for your help, guys. Okay? We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Kelvin’s shoulders relaxed a notch, but his expression remained wary. “So, like I said, what’s this got to do with us and the game?”

“If we’re right,” Blake said. “The game may be the secret to defeating the Metavalents. That’s why we’re here.”

Calena exchanged a shocked glance with Katsu, while Kelvin and the Jammers shifted uncomfortably and frowned in confusion.

“We’ve seen three of them around here in the past two weeks, and a person from one of our collectives was killed,” Calena said. “We think they’re looking to expand into this area, and that would destroy us. Can you help with that?”

Pablo held up a hand. “Dudes, this is bigger than just this area. Listen up.”

The cute guy, Blake, started talking about some shit called muon particles and how they could slice through almost anything like butter, but were really fragile in a lot of other ways, so not easy to use in a bomb or anything like that. Then the general explained how they think they can manufacture a handheld device that would generate the muon thingies and project them within some sort of shield, and that would be like a sword that would slice through the Globs…you guessed it…like butter.

Her head was spinning with this information all while she tried to figure out how that related to the game. However, as they went on and on, the vision of something like a sword slicing through Globs created a dull, itchy sense of impending doom within her. Before they had time to finish talking about needed response times, the aliens’ abilities, and actually came to a conclusion, she had it.

The gamers. The game. It all fit. They needed the gamers to fight the Globs. The gamers had years of training in the exact skills needed to use the muon swords with response times that rivaled the Glob ability to pop in and out of existence or attack with their expandable extensions. It all made sense, and fury erupted inside her.

“I get it,” she interrupted before the general finished. He slowly closed his lips without continuing.

“What?” Blake asked, brow furrowed.

Damn, he was actually really handsome. It was distracting.

“You need gamers to kill the Globs.” She planted her hands on her hips, trying not to look at Blake. “You want to use us.”

Blake and Carla shared surprised looks.

Pablo grinned. “That’s right. You in?”

“What are you talking about?” Katsu punched her shoulder.

“They need us to fight the Globs because we already know how to use the sword weapons better than anyone else.” She turned to Blake finally. “Right?”

He slowly nodded.

“That’s exactly right.” The general raised his chin. “We have a crisis, and we don’t have time to train people to the level to which you guys have already developed. And the, uh, Jammers can help by programming simulations just like the game but with MVs instead of cubes to hone your skills.”

“Ohhhh.” Katsu rocked back on his heels, mouth open, finally making the connection. “I get it. That’s…that’s…um, completely cool. I think…”

“See,” Pablo said, eyes gleaming and fists clenched. “We can save the world. We can fight back and get rid of these bastards once and for all. We’ll be heroes.”

Cal shot him a glare. What did he know? He lived with his father in an ultra-secure and amenity-rich army facility because of the general’s position. He didn’t know about the hardships people like she and Katsu faced out in the real world, scavenging for food and dodging Globs for every single necessity of life.

The general patted his son on the back, beaming. “I hope you all can see how critical this is. We need help from as many gamers as possible. We need to set up training programs and start training as soon as our engineering teams can manufacture the hardware.”

“Hold on,” Calena said. “We have an immediate problem here in this town, with Globs appearing again, and you want us to take off and leave people who depend on us for some idea that might not even work?”

Blake frowned, lips parted to say something, but nothing came out.

“Look,” the general said, sternly. “This is important…”

“So is saving the people I live with. We already lost one to the Globs yesterday. This is typical government bullshit.” She jabbed a finger at him. “I have people to protect right here in this town, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“We can’t force you to help, but I have to tell you this is the best chance we have of stopping these invaders. Yes, this is experimental, but the science is solid, and I think we can make it work,” Blake said.

She crossed her arms over her chest and avoided his gaze. What the hell? She couldn’t leave Pavilion, Miss Mina, and the others. This was crazy.

Kelvin pulled off the headphones he’d hung around his neck. “We’ll help in any way we can, but we’d need a lot of supplies.”

Blake walked over and shook Kelvin’s hand. “Thank you. That’s amazing. Yes, of course, you’ll have anything you need. The president has made this a top priority.”

“The president?” one of the other Jammer’s named Bruce asked, eyes wide.

“Yes, the president,” Blake said. “This is about saving the country. Actually, it’s about saving the world. We also think the Metavalents may be expanding, and that’s why this is so critical.”

Calena studied him as he spoke. His blond hair hung past his collar, a little too long for him to be much older than thirty. However, he was some sort of PhD and apparently extremely smart to have come up with this solution. She had to admit he was pretty hot, too. Well, maybe a little geeky and pasty white, but it looked like he worked out, and he had nice eyes…soft brown and melty. She shook off that thought, and forced away her stare. She’d given up hope on relationships years ago. It didn’t matter, she had other things to worry about than hot guys. Like protecting Pavilion, not traipsing off on some quest with an unproven weapon.

“I’ll go,” Katsu said with an apologetic look in her direction.

“What? No…” She grabbed his shoulders. A thrill of fear rushed through her. She couldn’t lose him.

“We have to do something, Cal. Things are getting worse and just setting up patrols is not going to make the problem go away. I want to help.” He wore his stubborn expression she knew so well. When he dug his feet in there was no moving him.

“Thank you,” Blake said to him. “We need a lot more help, too.”

“The first thing is to get the word out to other gamers and find out how many of them would be willing to train for combat,” the general said.

Kelvin tapped his computer screen. “We were getting ready to send out invitations all over the world for a virtual tournament. We can send out this message instead.”

“You can send out international messages?” The general’s gray brows went up.

“Yes, we have a shortwave channel all the gamers use. It’s not consistent and takes a while to make the rounds, but eventually we can reach them. We have an antenna on the roof of this building. But how would they be able to travel here for training with the Globs roaming everywhere again?””

“We may be able to set up training in other countries as long as you can share the programming and we can send details on manufacturing the handheld units,” the general replied. “That way we can coordinate an attack from every corner of the globe when we’re ready.”

“All right. You write up what you want me to say, and I’ll send the message.”

“Do you think a few hundred people might be willing to take part?” Carla asked.

Nick let out a sharp laugh. “Hundreds? More like thousands. You have no idea how many gamers there are. Everyone will want a piece of this action if it rids us of Globs.”

Blake’s face lit up, and the general looked like a kid someone just handed the world’s biggest jar of candy.

She seized Katsu’s arm and pulled him away from the others. She had to talk some sense into him before he ran off on this cursed quest. “What are you doing? You can’t leave. This is dangerous. You could be killed.”

“I don’t care.” He pulled his arm from her grasp, his brows drawn together. “What do I have to live for? Huh? Tony doesn’t love me anymore, and chances are pretty damn good I won’t find anyone else. I don’t want to stay here just surviving with only the game for a life.”

“But people here need us,” she pleaded. She didn’t want to say she needed him, that was too cringy…but she did.

“If we can destroy the Globs, that will help everyone including our collectives. Come on, Cal, you’re the best at this game, you could make a real difference.”

She threw up her hands in frustration.

“Cal, please go with me. I need you there.”

Damn his puppy dog eyes! He did need her. Who else would look after him? Maybe it was true, and they could do something that would help everyone. That would be worth it, right? It wouldn’t be like she was abandoning Pavilion if this worked.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered. “I’ll go. But you owe me.”

He let out a happy yelp of victory, and she shook her head. This was probably a big mistake.


About the Author: 
website
Lara Nance is an award-winning author who spins unforgettable adventures in speculative fiction. A true wanderer at heart, she has lived aboard a sailboat and roamed the globe as a digital nomad, weaving her own daring experiences into the worlds she creates. Her stories invite readers to journey beyond the ordinary—where imagination meets adventure, and every page holds the promise of discovery.

A Poem Penned in Poison (Tales of Wonder and Woe #3) by R. Dugan

We're celebrating the release of A Poem Penned in Poison today! What a perfect read for Halloween!


A Poem Penned in Poison (Tales of Wonder and Woe #3)
by R. Dugan
October 31, 2025
Genre: Dark Romantasy/ Fantasy Horror
  • Enemies to Lovers
  • Forced proximity
  • Grumpy x sunshine
  • Assassin x healer
  • Reluctant partners
  • Masquerade ball
  • He falls first AND harder
  • Villain romance
  • Social Recluse x social butterfly
  • Touch her and die
  • Poet x muse

NAOMI WEATHERS is running from something—and no one knows it.

THE POET POISONER is on the hunt…and Naomi has just stepped into his path.

In the enchanting and deadly third installment of the TALES OF WONDER & WOE, a healer and a poisoner clash in a wicked struggle for survival…a struggle that might be a blade in both of their hearts.

GET IT HERE-Kindle

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Thursday, October 30, 2025

Toil and Trouble: Romantic Horror Anthology + giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The authors will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Toil and Trouble
by DCL Publications
Genre: romantic horror anthology
September 22, 2025

The brew is hot and bubbling over with romance and terror in this twistedly beautiful anthology that welcomes the darkness of horror and the temptation of love's veiled promises. Six remarkable tales from six incredible authors fill this book of dark shadows and ancient whispers.

Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble - by Jennifer Patricia O'Keeffe: Enchanted pastries and spell-brewed coffee make Esmerelda's sugar-dusted counter the city's most coveted haunt—until a dangerously charming newcomer slips into her shop, immune to her magic and unraveling her carefully guarded world. As his witch-hunter heritage threatens to burn her legacy to ash, Esmerelda finds herself torn between the threat of revenge from the witch hunter's ancestors and the intoxicating truth of the connection that they share.

Silverwood - by Lynn Hubbard: A lonely rancher's daughter finds her isolated Wyoming homestead upended when an amber-eyed stranger ignites a mud-splattered passion that defies reason—until his supernatural secret and the vengeful ranch hands hunting her force her to choose between the man who saves her and the monster who might destroy her. Torn between fierce protectors and forbidden desire, she must trust the very darkness that could shatter her world to survive the wild frontier's deadliest threats.

Ivy, Lichens and Wallflowers - by James Ryan: Marketing executive Hilda finds solace from her stifling corporate life and overbearing past in the quiet companionship of Miriam, a mysterious 19th-century marble statue in a city micro-park, only to discover their connection transcends stone when Miriam begins answering her handwritten notes through cryptic poetry left in return. As their forbidden connection deepens into an intoxicating dream-bound romance, Hilda uncovers Miriam's supernatural secret: she's a cursed thaumaturge sustained by stolen life force, forcing Hilda to confront whether love can survive the devastating cost of keeping her alive.

A Mirror to Die For - by Cindy Lewis Smith: A desperate woman finds solace in an antique mirror that whisks her nightly to 1880s Arizona, where a charming outlaw named Johnny Ringo fulfills every fantasy—until her jealous fiancé shatters the glass and vanishes, leaving her trapped in an asylum screaming that he is the real monster, a man who shouldn't exist: Dr. John Henry Holliday, the gambler who killed Ringo a century ago. Now, with "MPR" carved into her cell walls and time itself unraveling, she'll stop at nothing to prove her sanity by proving time travel is real—even if it means unleashing the very darkness that destroyed her.

Flight 1031: Cosmic Turbulence - by Julian Christian:
Diplomatic courier Sarah Martinez boards Flight 1031 expecting routine turbulence, not a Halloween dimensional rift that strands her at Germania International Airport—where the Greater German Reich has ruled since 1943 and perfected technology to harvest souls from parallel realities through consciousness-scanning machinery that pulses with seventeen-beat rhythms. Now trapped in a terminal that breathes like a living organism, Sarah must navigate a world where every passenger hides a secret and her resistance could either save her timeline or doom infinite versions of humanity to eternal enslavement in a Reich that spans all dimensions.

Dream a Little Dream - by Jae El Foster: After a near-death car crash rewires her brain, Sarah's nightmares bleed into reality: sugar on the counter forms glyphs, bats appear out of nowhere in broad daylight, and her own hands betray her—while the velvet-eyed stranger from her dreams appears in her waking hours, his urgency growing as Halloween's veil thins. Now, with her reality twisting into something surreal and an ancient language hijacking her voice, she must confront a dark truth: her soul isn't hers to keep, and the man who saved her in death is the very entity hunting her in life. 

Buy the Book
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Read an Excerpt From ‘Dream a Little Dream’ by Jae El Foster


Sarah didn’t know where to run, where to hide, where to breathe. She drove until the city’s skyline dissolved into cornfields, until the morning thickened with minivans and convertibles carrying families on "ride in the country" escapes. Each passing car—a Jeep with muddy tires, a sedan with bike racks—anchored her to reality, the rubber soles of her sneakers still tingling with the phantom sensation of earth either holding her up or crushing her down.

A flash detonated behind her eyes: the muffled thud of dirt hitting wood, shovel after shovel, sealing her inside a coffin. She couldn’t see it, but she smelled it—the cloying stench of decay merging with rain-damp soil, the suffocating darkness pressing against her eyelids as the weight piled higher. The scent of worms and wet pine needles flooded her throat, thick as grave mold.

The vision snapped just as her car veered toward the shoulder. She wrenched the wheel hard left, tires screeching, a horn blaring from the sedan she’d nearly broadsided. Her hands locked on the steering wheel, knuckles bleaching bone-white, as she fought to drag air into her lungs. Slow. Nervous. Don’t die twice. The wreck’s ghost clawed at her ribs—she wouldn’t invite it back.

Ahead, a billboard loomed: MEMORY LANE. Beneath the town’s name, bold letters promised: Step into Memory Lane, where new memories are made! Sarah’s foot hovered over the brake pedal, ready to U-turn from the omen of that name, but her ankle refused to bend. Cemented. Her other foot slammed toward the brake—stuck. Panic surged as she crossed the town line, tires crunching over the painted border, but then the landscape unfolded: manicured lawns, white picket fences gleaming like fresh bone, and 1950s bungalows painted in cheerful pastels. A sigh escaped her—enchanted.

Chicanery, she thought, scanning the dollhouse-perfect homes. Porches draped in wisteria, hydrangeas bursting from flower beds, rocking chairs swaying in phantom breezes. It felt less like a town and more like a dream staged for tourists—a nostalgia trap with price tags hidden in the shutters. She gripped the wheel tighter, the vinyl seat sticky beneath her sweat-slicked thighs.

The yards deepened in their perfection: hedges trimmed to geometric precision, roses blooming in impossible symmetry, each white picket fence identical down to the last splinter. No cracks. No weeds. No life. The fences stood sentinel around empty yards, guarding homes with spotless windows that reflected nothing but sky.

She passed a brick schoolhouse with a rusted swing set, a park with a merry-go-round frozen mid-spin, a diner with "OPEN" glowing in neon, a barber pole coiled in red-white silence, a post office with mailboxes gleaming under noon sun. No children. No joggers. No bicycles leaning against fences. Since crossing into Memory Lane, she’d seen exactly one living thing: a crow pecking at a roadkill squirrel, its beak crimson.

"Where the hell is everyone?" she muttered, her voice raw as she scanned porches, windows, the empty stretch of road ahead. The only sound was the hum of her engine and the thump-thump-thump of her pulse in her ears.

Sarah’s hands left the steering wheel, fingers trembling as she tried to turn into a driveway for a U-turn. The wheel refused to budge—cemented. She settled back into the seat, watching it steer itself with unnatural precision. Her foot lifted from the accelerator, but the speed held steady, unwavering, until the car slowed on its own for a sharp right-hand turn onto University Boulevard. The road’s grip on her feet had vanished, yet the vehicle moved like a thing alive, hungry for the town square.

To her left, manicured university grounds sprawled beneath flowering trees, grand homes lining the boulevard like stage sets. Roses bloomed in impossible symmetry, hedges trimmed to razor edges. Sarah groaned at the street name—University Boulevard—its banality a slap in the face. Two blocks down, the car turned right onto Main Street, the tires whispering over asphalt that felt less like road and more like skin.

Ahead, the town square unfolded: businesses glowing with "Open" signs, windows spotless, a gazebo planted dead-center like a tombstone. No cars. No pedestrians. Not even a stray cat to break the silence. The air hung thick with the scent of cut grass and something sharper—ozone, like before a storm that never breaks.

Sarah’s car rolled into a parking spot near the gazebo. The seatbelt loosened with a hiss, the engine dying as the driver’s door swung open unbidden. "I don’t like anything about this…" she muttered, stepping onto pavement that felt unnaturally warm beneath her sneakers. The keys stayed in the ignition, but fear of theft never came—who would steal from a town with no one to steal?

The door shut behind her with a soft click, sealing her in the square’s suffocating quiet. She forced her breath slow, scanning the storefronts: two restaurants, a beauty parlor, a bank, antique shops, a used bookstore, and a theater dominating the square. Its marquee blazed in vintage bulbs: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM and SHE RISES AT NIGHT—titles she’d never heard, yet they hummed in her bones like half-remembered screams.

She turned toward the right-hand restaurant, heels clicking on the pavement. Instantly, its "Open" sign flickered and died. She froze, then pivoted toward the left restaurant—same result. The sign went dark as if snuffed by an invisible hand.

Sarah took a step forward, pulse hammering against her ribs. The air grew heavier, pressing into her lungs like wet soil. She didn’t need to test it again. The square wasn’t empty. It was waiting.

"What in the living hell…?"

Every storefront Sarah scanned flickered dark—the "Open" signs dying like snuffed candles—but the theater’s marquee blazed relentless: REEL AFTER REEL. Its sign burned bright despite the empty ticket booth, the glass doors yawning open onto blackness. Sarah’s skin prickled. Memory Lane felt wrong, but the theater pulsed with something hungrier, something that made her stomach drop like a stone in a well.

She stared at the theater, arms crossed tight against the chill. The marquee’s promise—DREAM A LITTLE DREAM / SHE RISES AT NIGHT—curdled in her gut. Of all places, this was where she never wanted to set foot. Yet the longer she stood frozen, the more the building breathed. Orchestra strings swelled—violins sawing a tune from silent-film days—though the theater’s modern facade held no projector room. Then came the chatter: phantom voices lining up for tickets, laughter echoing off empty pavement.

"Nope…" she muttered, squaring her shoulders. "Fuck this." She bolted for her car, sneakers slapping the pavement. The driver’s door handle wouldn’t budge—locked, keys glinting in the ignition like a taunt.


GIVEAWAY
The authors will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.