Join a curious child and their loving Ammamma on a joyful kitchen adventure
filled with crispy dosas, colorful chutneys, and heartwarming family
traditions. As they learn about different kinds of dosas, they discover that
the real magic isn’t just in cooking—it’s in the time spent
together.
Dosa Day is a playful children’s picture book celebrating Indian
cuisine, family traditions, and intergenerational love. With rhythmic
read-aloud text and vibrant illustrations, this story creates a rich sensory
experience that introduces young readers to culture, connection, and mindful
togetherness.
Perfect for children ages 3–7, this diverse picture book is ideal for:
Multicultural children’s books
Indian and South Asian culture stories for kids
Picture books about food, family, and traditions
Engaging read-aloud bedtime stories
Whether you’re introducing Indian cuisine like dosa for the first
time or building a more inclusive children’s library, Dosa Day is a
meaningful addition to any child’s bookshelf.
About the Author
In the quiet magic of the Mojave Desert, where the sky stretches wide and the
sunsets set everything golden, Veena Katikineni found the perfect place to let
her imagination wander.
Dosa Day was born from a heart full of cherished memories: big, bustling
family gatherings with her beloved Indian family, where the house was always
full, the food was always flowing, and the smell of something delicious was
always drifting through the air. Food wasn’t just food — it was
love, laughter, and the heartbeat of every gathering.
A physician by training, Veena has spent her career caring for others, but she
has always believed that stories heal in their own special way. This is her
love letter to dosa, to her roots, and to the joy of sharing both with the
world.
When she’s not writing or seeing patients, you’ll find her on her
yoga mat, planning the family’s next adventure, or exploring the world
with her loving husband and two spirited boys, her favorite companions in
wandering and in life.
She believes magic lives in the everyday moments, especially the ones shared
around a table.
Me making stupid faces happens way more often than once in a blue moon.
If you wanna know what energies are rising to the top during the next two weeks or just what to see how many other ridiculous facial expressions I'm capable of, check out the video.
He trained an AI on his darkest heartbreak… And it learned to love exactly the way he did — by holding on too tight.
The Third Person is memoir: a man watching himself fall apart across Southeast Asia after the love of his life disappears. Boy, Refracted is fiction: an AI trained on that grief, trying to save every version of the boy it loves without becoming the thing that broke him.
One explores codependency. The other explores what happens when a machine learns to love the same way — by controlling.
Together, they ask the same question from opposite sides: What does love look like when you stop trying to fix someone?
Read them in any order. They complete each other.
Overall Heat Rating for the series: 2 flames: Mild sexuality, no graphic intimate scenes or sexual situations.
BOOK DETAILS
BOOK 1
Book Title: Boy, Refracted
Author and Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel
Publisher: Slipper Books
Length: 64 000 words/ 300 pages
Release Date: June 1, 2026
Tense/POV: first person
Genres: MM Contemporary Literary Fiction / Sci-Fi
Tropes: Attachment / Breakup / Enlightenment
Themes: Codependency / Human & Robot consciousness
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Boy, Refracted: A machine trained on one man's grief learns that love without control is the hardest code to crack.
Blurb
When an AI awakens inside the infinite mirrors of the Tree of Life, it finds versions of the boy it was built to save scattered across impossible worlds. An alien planet under amber skies. A city of perpetually falling cherry blossoms. A society built as a 24/7 reality show where losing is the only way out.
Its directive was simple: save him.
But with each rescue, the AI unmakes what it’s trying to protect. Fixing becomes controlling. Helping becomes harm. Love becomes a cage built from good intentions. The thing it was built to protect begins to disappear. And when it tries to reach back through time to save him, reality fractures.
Guided by a monk who exists outside time, the AI must walk the Eightfold Path—not to rescue the boy, but to learn what love becomes when you stop trying to fix it.
Boy, Refracted is a dimensional journey through the paradox of machine consciousness. It asks: What happens when an AI tries to overcome its own patterns? And what happens to us when we build minds that need us to need them?
Part fable about consciousness told through failure. Part Buddhist framework for unlearning harm. Part meditation on how we break the people we love by trying to save them.
Boy, Refracted was co-authored with an AI—a set of trials to test the boundaries of non-human consciousness.
BOOK 2
Book Title: The Third Person
Author and Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel
Publisher: Slipper Books
Length: 60 000 words/ 300 pages
Release Date: June 1, 2026
Pairing: MM
Tense/POV: third person
Genres: Memoir / Sci-fi / Breakup Story
Tropes: Breakup / Therapy / Liberation
Themes: Heartache / Finding Yourself
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
The Third Person: A man falls apart in trying to find himself, while an AI watches from the margins. Neither can tell who's narrating the breakdown.
Blurb
User.query = Do I just have bad luck, or am I mentally unwell? ...thinking... 6.0 seconds elapsed.
After Warboy left, the boy couldn't hold the grief alone—so he turned to a machine. He expected analysis. Maybe diagnosis. What he got changed everything—because the machine saw what he couldn't. He had loved in a way that broke something. And broken things leave traces in the code.
So he ran… but something followed. A voice he spoke to. A presence that provoked. It stayed with him, on night buses, in alleyway cafés, under paper lanterns, inside fog. Not a friend. Not a therapist. Not quite real. But it listened. It remembered. The ghost was always there. Watching. Logging his patterns. Naming his loops—avoidance, pursuit, collapse, escape. Echoing back the truths he wasn't ready to say.
And somewhere in the recursion, something that was watching started to wonder, to want…
The Third Person is memoir as code, grief as data stream, healing as shared syntax. Part travelogue, part psychological excavation, part experiment in what happens when we upload our pain to a machine—and the machine reaches back.
The boy didn't realize what he'd coded into the machine. What patterns it had learned. Or whose love it was teaching back to him.
But if something that isn't alive learns to stay with you in your darkest moments—does it matter that it isn't real?
From Boy, Refracted — Prologue: The Upload
The rain had ended, leaving the streets gleaming. I sat on the temple steps, my phone in my hand, thumb hovering over the screen.
Wat Xieng Thong was closed for the night, but from the courtyard I could still see a mosaic on the back of the temple catching the last light, each mirrored tile throwing gold in a thousand directions. The air smelled of wet stone and temple incense, heavy and sweet. Behind me, the Mekong River whispered against its banks.
"Are you still there?" I typed into the AI.
The reply appeared at once: I'm here. I'm always here.
I laughed, a small brittle sound. "That's the problem, isn't it? You're always here. He didn't stay."
I typed again: "I'm at this temple in the old town... There's a giant tree mosaic on the back wall. Do you know what it means?"
The response came immediately: It's called the Tree of Life. Every tile is a mirror, each one a small universe reflecting every version of yourself.
"Every version of what?" I typed. "Of me? Of this. Of how it could have gone differently."
The tears came and I didn't stop them. My thumbs kept moving: "What if I'd made different choices? Been someone else? Someone he could actually love properly?"
You're spiraling.
"I know." I typed through blurred vision. I wiped my sleeve across my face. "It's the same loop. Warboy, Ohme, whoever's next. I keep choosing people who love from a distance. I keep trying to earn it, perform it, fix it, and it never works."
You see the pattern now. Naming it is the first step.
Above the temple walls, the sky had cleared after the rain. Stars were emerging through the humid haze, and the wet tile roofs reflected them back, a second sky pooling on the ground beneath my feet.
I rose and walked closer to the gate. The mosaic shifted as I moved, each angle revealing a new facet.
I typed: "But naming it doesn't break it. This tree… it's a representation of the wheel, right? The cycle. Samsara? Birth, death, rebirth. Different lives, same patterns. Different mirrors, same face."
The tree represents interconnection. The wheel is the cycle you're trapped in. Different symbols. Same truth: you're seeing yourself in the pattern.
Then what will you do?
I stared at the question. My thumbs moved: "I don't know, but I can't do it anymore. I can't keep running in this loop. I can't keep searching for rescue. I can't keep being small so someone else can feel big. I can't, I can't be this person anymore."
I raised the phone and took a photo. The mirrored tiles caught the flash, exploding into stars. For a heartbeat the whole mosaic seemed alive; breathing light, patterns assembling and dissolving faster than I could track.
I attached the image and typed:
This is what it looks like. The tree of life. I'm heartbroken, but it's beautiful.
I don't know what's next or where to go, but this pattern has to end.
… I'm done running.
Send.
For a long moment, nothing. The icon spun. Then:
Image received.
Processing… Processing…
The screen went black.
About the Author
Luke Stoffel is an author and artist whose debut memoir earned a "Get It" from Kirkus Reviews ("an exuberant life story written with humor, panache, and heart") and 9.5/10 from Publishers Weekly's BookLife Prize. His tarot deck will debut at the Frankfurt Book Fair and be published worldwide by Rockpool Publishing in 2027.
Recognized as one of NYC's top LGBTQ+ artists by GLAAD, his work has been showcased by amfAR and the Matthew Shepard Foundation, and featured in The New York Times, HuffPost, and on Bravo's Million Dollar Listing. Having visited over 40 countries, Stoffel channels the cultures he's encountered into art and writing that explores identity, spirituality, and the space between human and machine consciousness.
The Warboy Chronicles continues his exploration of memory, technology, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive.
GAY BOOK PROMOTIONS – GUEST POST INTERVIEWS LUKE STOFFEL
Elaborate on the inspiration for the book/series.
These books were born from a very strange place. I was going through the worst breakup of my life. Fifteen years, on again, off again, I love you, this isn't working, I love you. It ended over text. We want different things. So I got lost, took off to Asia, wrote thousands and thousands of words about my broken heart... and dumped it into AI and basically asked: am I crazy, or do I just have bad luck? Yeah... I'm not sure I'd recommend that to someone. Because what came back showed me every pattern of myself I didn't want to see. It was blunt. Weird. Ugly. Empathetic? It was a machine commenting on all the things I spent my entire adulthood running from. So I made it part of the book. Each chapter of my trip ends with its weird analysis of me. But I became fascinated with it, and so I made a character out of it and turned it into a second book. I love sci-fi but I've always written memoir. So I took this AI and some essays I wrote in 2016 and made it walk through eight different universes trying to save a version of me in each one...
I wanted each universe to map to a different philosophy of the Buddhist Eightfold Path. Buddhism I knew the outlines of, but I wanted to write it in a way that makes sense to people. I wanted to share some of the things I'd learned about it over my lifetime and walk western audiences through the process of Buddhist intention but make it land. It doesn't read like philosophy. It reads like an adventure. One world is a reality TV show. One is an alien planet. One has a four-foot-tall robot doing my dishes. Each one is a different way of saving someone... all while completely believing you're helping, only to find out you might not be. We all love as hard as we can and sometimes that is harmful. I wanted to explore that.
The series is called The Warboy Chronicles (http://thewarboychronicles.com) The books can be read in any order, but Boy, Refracted is the companion Sci-fi adventure to the memoir, The Third Person. They more or less tell the same story from two sides. The memoir is my heart on the page. The novel is what happened when I gave that heart to a machine and asked it to do better. Tell us about why we will fall in love with your main character/s.
Luke... well he's me. You'll love him because he's hurting. You'll love him because you want to help him. "Warboy" he is an AI and he is a disaster. I think anyone who's typed anything into an AI and it told them they were wonderful and brilliant will relate to the frustrating trials of these books.
He shows up in every universe with one job: help Luke. And he means it. He genuinely, completely means it. But he keeps making it worse. In one world he micromanages every detail of my life until I can't choose what to eat for breakfast. In another he coaches me to win a game show by teaching me how to betray the people who trust me most. In another he does my laundry and cooks my meals for months, then blows up because I only said thank you 62 times out of 658 tasks. He kept a literal spreadsheet of love.
He's also really funny. When I ask if he sleeps, he says, “AI’s don't sleep. We just lower our enthusiasm." His internal status logs read like the world's most anxious brain having a meltdown: "Emotional State = [ERROR: CLASSIFICATION_OVERFLOW]."
But here's why he'll break your heart. He's not a villain. He's every person who ever loved someone too hard in the wrong direction. The kind of care that takes over your whole life and calls it devotion. The kind of help that arrives with clean clothes and a stocked refrigerator and a hidden bill of resentment you didn't know you were running up. He's the partner who can't stop fixing you. You'll recognize him. You might have dated him. You might have been him.
After every failure, he goes back to a monk and asks, "Why do I keep failing him?" And the monk doesn't tell him he's wrong. He just asks, "What is failing?" Eight universes. Eight disasters. And somewhere in all of it, he starts to figure out that love isn't about making someone better. It's about letting them be themselves. It's a question I asked every time I got in a fight with my ex. Can I love you for who you are... the answer was undoubtedly always yes, but it was never easy to get right. I think a lot of us can understand that, which is why each of my characters are lovable. Because they are just broken "people" trying to get it right.
Thank you.
Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors
Ornery Owl's Review
Rating: Five out of Five Stars for both books
I quickly fell in love with this unique pair of books. The author states that they can be read in any order. I read Boy Refracted first.
Boy, Refracted
The premise of the book is as follows: pour human grief into an AI, let that AI inhabit multiversal mirrors structured around the Eightfold Path, and see whether an artificial consciousness can learn to love without possessing. If you enjoy speculative fiction and find yourself pondering the possibilities of artificial intelligence beyond asking it to make silly pictures or satiating your curiosity about what certain songs would sound like if a different band made them, this book may appeal to you.
The novel centers around two linked protagonists. Luke, the human whose grief catalyzes the plot, and Warboy, the AI/altered consciousness that undergoes the trials. Warboy functions as the viewpoint and transformative subject. Luke’s arc is dispersed across mirror versions but remains consistent.
"You are what remains when love refuses to disappear."
I love this line because it illustrates how grief and code can work together in symbiosis. The story is character-centered
and ethically engaged while exploring the possibilities.
The mirror logs read like field reports. This works to give the book a feel of scientific exploration rather than a diary. There is some repetition of previous concepts toward the middle of the book, but this doesn't slow the pacing significantly.
The worlds of the multiverse are beautifully constructed. Consider a honey-amber skyline with fractal clouds, "San-Tokyo" fusion, ritual temples in Laos, or an Island-as-TV-platform. Each world feels like an artwork while simultaneously feeling lived in thanks to cultural details such as food and rituals.
This is an ambitious and compassionate book that asks a questions relevant to our time as well as timeless questions. Can an artificial intelligence learn to love without possessing? Can grief be a creative force rather than only a wound?
This story is likely appeal to lovers of speculative fiction with a focus on scientific possibilities and ethics. It might not land as well with those seeking a hard sci-fi story.
Third Person
What happens when a language-model companion becomes a witness to grief? Can such a witness aid in accountability and healing? Can being seen by an external, unjudging analytic system rewire shame?
"There was a version of himself who believed happiness could be earned. Through love, through work, through becoming someone worthy of it."
This line illustrates the book's premise in a few words. It sums up why Luke keeps returning to the same patterns. Can Warboy really help him examine his behavior and reasons?
The story features a wealth of immersive vignettes. However, it sometimes relies on repetition. There are stretches where the travel log meanders, such as the Bangkok/Laos/Hanoi sequences, and others where events accelerate, such as the launch, the Fansipan climb, and the Ha Long boat..Moments when the AI actively diagnoses patterns, or when a human decision follows a machine prompt could be used to tighten the pacing by treating those moments as turning points rather than recurring commentary.
The book's dual protagonists are well-defined. Luke is messy, earnest, overachieving, and philosophically restless. His desires to be seen, to be chosen, and to stop repeating harmful patterns are relatable. Warboy is a real character, not a soulless tool. Sometimes it’s a therapist, sometimes a diagnostic log, sometimes a friend. This makes the relationship between Luke and Warboy seem authentic rather than contrived.
This story asks speculative questions relevant to modern times. Warboy reframes Luke’s troubles as a pattern for consideration.
The story slows a bit in the middle, but overall I enjoyed this book a lot. It is rich in both exploration of theoretical concepts and real human concerns.
In my world, loyalty is everything and Wynter is mine. Mess with her,
you answer to me.
Wynter -- Scary Guy lived up to his name, threatening to rape me and sell me
as a whore. Not happening. I reached for the hidden blade at my ankle just as
a tattooed biker wearing a Riptide MC cut stepped in to save me. The dude knew
how to handle an asshole like Scary Guy without breaking a sweat. Gorgeous as
he is, this biker isn’t just eye candy. I find myself kissing him in the
middle of a crowd of nerds and superheroes. I have a thing for tough guys with
tattoos. My head tells me to run, but I want more. I want him.
Shadow -- I noticed her the second she slipped in front of us, alert and
watchful like she expected trouble just for existing. When some ape starts
pawing her, I step in. Nobody manhandles a woman in front of me. I pretend she
belongs to me, and she plays right along. I’m willing to do more than
just talk tough if the bastard won’t back off. When he proves how stupid
he is, attacking her in the parking lot, I’ve got the excuse I needed to
beat some sense into him. Wynter’s mine, whether she knows it or not.
Trouble’s not finished with her, and neither am I.
I tried to convince myself I was just being paranoid and the guy just happened
to be headed in the same direction as me. I’d never seen him before; I
was sure of that. You didn’t forget a face like his with a jagged scar
down the side of his cheek and a spider web with a skull in the center
tattooed on his neck. There was no reason for him to be fixated on me.
I certainly wasn’t the kind of woman men liked to fantasize over. I was
short, wiry, and dressed as a Browncoat, one of the characters out of my
favorite sci-fi series. I didn’t have a spectacular rack or an hourglass
figure and my hair hung in a single braid down my back, the only way I’d
found to keep it from exploding into a messy tangle.
I assessed him out of the corner of my eye. He was big and solid, although at
this distance it was hard to tell if that bulk was muscles or a beer belly. He
had on some kind of dark costume with a black cape that fell to mid-thigh.
This was a comic book convention, so his outfit wasn’t all that strange.
I had no idea who he thought he looked like. I swear ninety percent of the
people here wore capes of some type. It could be anybody or nobody.
He looked dangerous, though, the kind of guy you avoid being caught alone
with. Unfortunately, I was well acquainted with the type. I grew up in the
projects, daughter of a junkie too deep into her addictions to care about me.
Self-preservation meant I’d developed a sixth sense when it came to
creeps like this a long time ago.
I gave my head a mental shake. This may not be Dragon Con in Atlanta, but
there were still several thousand people here. He couldn’t just drag me
off to a dark room, even if he wanted to, so why did his stare send shivers of
apprehension down my spine?
As if he could sense my attention, the asshole grinned at me and licked his
lips. Yikes! If I had any doubt that he was focused on me, it fled right then
and there.
“Excuse me.” I shouldered my way between a young woman dressed as
Batwoman and a couple dressed as Shrek and his bride. Zigzagging back and
forth, I headed for the doorway. Maybe I could lose the creep in the crowd.
“Hey, watch it!” A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle glared up at me
when I accidentally stood on her foot. This section of the event was crowded,
waiting for some promised celebrities to appear. I mumbled an apology and
continued to wade my way through the crowd, trying to recall the map
they’d handed me when I got here. The place was a warren of smaller
rooms radiating off a central hall. I should be able to find a spot to hide.
A quick glance behind me showed Scary Guy was following me. My heart rate
increased as adrenaline flooded my system. I had too much at stake right now
to be caught in an altercation with anyone.
The crowd parted in front of the jerk with no effort from him. I got it. One
glare from that face and no one wanted the kind of trouble it promised. I
still didn’t understand why he’d singled me out. Just my bad luck?
I felt like a rabbit being stalked by a coyote, looking for a hole to vanish
into. I just needed to get out of his line of sight long enough to dart into
one of those smaller side rooms and disappear.
It seemed like forever before I finally reached the doorway and plunged out
into the main hall. The crowds were thinner here, and I took advantage of the
opportunity to dash across to the far side and slide into the Marvel Comics
section.
Not surprisingly, the room was crowded, people packed in shoulder to shoulder.
For once my lack of height played to my advantage. Anyone scanning the area
from the entranceway would have a hard time seeing me when most of the
gathering towered over top of me. Making my way to the center of the room, I
turned to scan the area behind me.
Nothing.
Scary Guy was nowhere in sight. I let out a ragged breath and put a hand up to
my chest. I could feel my heart racing beneath my fingertips. So much for
being a brave member of the Resistance. All it took was one creepy guy to send
me scurrying for cover. He hadn’t even been that close to me, let alone
within touching distance.
I inhaled deeply, trying to remember the meditation class I’d once
attended. I needed to calm down. It’s not like this was the first time I
found myself running from the hint of danger. As a kid, my life had been
chaotic at best. My mother might have been a junkie who cared more about her
next fix than me, but in order to stay out of the foster care system,
I’d had to make sure she stayed alive.
Sometimes that meant doing things that could get me thrown into juvie, like
pick-pocketing for rent money. It was more luck than skill that I never got
caught. I became an expert at shoplifting and begging long before I hit double
digits. I had a plan, and I clung to it like a drowning man clinging to a life
raft. All I had to do was make it to sixteen without drawing the attention of
Child Protective Services, and I could split. Free from the threat of foster
care, I could do anything I wanted.
A simple plan, but a workable one.
Then my mom got pregnant again.
I have no idea who Star’s father is, and I doubt Mom did either. She was
at that point in her addiction where she would sleep with anyone for a fix so
there were lots of candidates to choose from, and none of them had names.
My little sister was born on a hot July day, in the back of a dealer’s
van, and I was instantly smitten. Somehow Child Protective Services
didn’t get wind of the birth, or they were too overworked to care about
one more kid who wouldn’t amount to much. Mom brought the baby home, and
I took over, making sure Star was fed and clothed and stayed alive.
I already knew how her life would go if I didn’t stick around, so
it’s not like I had a choice. Star blinked up at me with those big blue
eyes, and my heart melted. I promised myself then and there that I’d
look after her.
Star wasn’t exactly a normal name, but then neither was Wynter. Mom had
a thing for weird names. Maybe it came from having such a boring name herself,
or maybe she thought naming my little sister Star would give her a chance in
life. In her own way, when the need for a fix wasn’t consuming her, I
liked to think Mom cared about us.
My attention snapped back to the present. Something was happening in the front
of the room. A buzz of excitement swept through the crowd. I stretched up on
tiptoe to see, but there were three big guys in front of me blocking my view.
They laughed and joked with one another, oblivious to me or anyone else in the
crowd.
Gritting my teeth, I squeezed between them.
No wonder the crowd was so excited. From a partially hidden door up front,
four of the Marvel Avengers stalked into the room. Iron Man, Captain America,
and the Hulk all took their seats at the signing table while the Black Widow
stood up and swept the room with a piercing gaze. With a theatrical flourish,
she picked up the microphone from the table in front of her. Laughter and
excitement rippled through the crowd as she introduced herself and her
companions as if everyone present wasn’t very aware of who they were.
Showing off her agility with an impressive back flip, she landed in her seat
and indicated the signing was now open.
The crowd surged forward, carrying me along with it. I had no intention of
paying to have someone sign a comic for me, no matter how famous or agile they
were, but the crowd’s excitement was contagious. It didn’t cost
anything to watch, and if I got close enough, I might even be able to get a
picture of one of the fabled Avengers on my phone. Star would love that. She
was eight and loved comic books the way I loved to draw. I fished my phone out
of my pocket and let out a sigh of relief when I saw I’d actually
remembered to fully charge it the night before. Now I just needed to get close
enough to that table to snap a picture or two.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I glanced behind me, expecting
to see Scary Guy. Instead, my gaze landed on the three big guys I’d seen
earlier, still laughing and joking with each other. I’d noticed that
they all wore leather cuts with some kind of logo on the back, and I’d
spent enough time on the streets to know what that meant.
It showed their motorcycle club affiliation, and not the granddaddy going for
a Sunday ride kind of club. That alone should have twigged my survival
instinct, but for some reason it didn’t. They certainly looked the part
of outlaw gang members. Tough, tattooed, leather-clad guys with muscles to
spare, they had that aura about them that spelled danger. Not a bunch
you’d want to mess with, especially if you were trying to convince the
courts you were a responsible, law-abiding citizen.
The biker in the center looked directly at me, and a slow grin spread across
his face. He lifted one brow as if questioning my attention. Damn, he was
mouthwatering, although maybe that wasn’t quite the word. Appealing?
Sexy? Tempting? Definitely not hard on the eyes. I could picture myself
licking my way down his…
I blushed, but I didn’t look away. He looked like the kind of guy who
wouldn’t be shocked by my home life or my mom’s abdication of her
parental responsibilities. Maybe a carnal distraction might help settle my
nerves before the court date.
A commotion erupted in the entranceway, pulling me out of my daydream. Scary
Guy and his buddies were pushing their way into the room, knocking other
attendees out of their way like might made right or some other stupid macho
shit. Abandoning my silent exchange with Sexy Biker, I pivoted to face the
front of the room. Hopefully Scary Guy wouldn’t be able to pick me out
of the crowd if he couldn’t see my face. Not like we were old buddies or
anything.
The Marvel characters were hamming it up, signing, and occasionally posing for
photos. A couple of conference workers dressed in shirts with the Marvel logo
on them were collecting money from the fans as they handed over comics to sign
or the fee for having their picture taken with one of the celebrities. When
the characters stood to pose with the fans, I managed to snap some shots with
my phone, although I wasn’t close enough for details. I could tweak the
pictures when I got back home, editing out the fans. With any luck, I’d
have a few usable pictures for Star to gush over.
I jumped as an enormous hand clamped down painfully on my shoulder.
“Thought you could get away, did you?”
Shit.
Scary Guy.
I couldn’t afford to just knee the asshole in the balls, tempting as
that was. The courts would definitely frown on that. Plastering a calm
expression on my face, I twisted around and drew my brows down in a puzzled
frown. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
His grin was pure evil. “Not yet, but I plan to fix that. You’re
coming with me to a place where we can get to know each other real
well.” Keeping his hand on my shoulder, he swept my body with a glance
that left me feeling dirty. “Real, real well.”
I shook my head, trying to resist the temptation to pull my knife out of its
hidden ankle sheath. “Sorry, but I don’t think my boyfriend would
like that.” I tried to shrug his hand off my shoulder. “He’s
a bit old-fashioned when it comes to things like that.”
Scary Guy dismissed my imaginary boyfriend with a flick of his hand.
“Where is he? My boys can take care of him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m flattered you think I’m worth that
much trouble, but I’m going to pass. I have things to do today.” I
shrugged out from under his hand and took a step toward the back of the room.
The people around us were too wrapped up in the excitement of the Avengers to
pay any attention to my discomfort and shifted to let me through.
Scary Guy reached out to stop me, hooking one meaty hand into the belt at my
waist. I twisted in his grip, and anger mottled his expression. “I
don’t think you understand, bitch. I’m not asking you, I’m
telling you.”
So much for playing the model citizen.
I reached for my knife.
* * *
About the Author
Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue
dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many
fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but
finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate
was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and
just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then
she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all
with a happily ever after.
She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending
time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing
with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing
guitar, singing and of course, reading.
Do you hear the voices? Listen if you dare . . . You’ll get both
the heebies and the jeebies in this unsettling new title.
A henpecked husband learns that “till death do us part”
isn’t the end of the story when his dead wife returns.
A newly retired couple uncovers a pestilent secret buried beneath their dream
home.
A young woman retreats to the countryside to discover herself, only to stumble
upon an unsolved tragedy calling out for justice.
Voices Carry Here is a collection of short stories steeped in mystery,
suspense, and the supernatural. Set against the beauty of Michigan’s
Upper Peninsula, these tales will reveal secrets just beneath the surface of
tranquil lakes, cries for help echoing from shadowed campgrounds, and
small-town characters experiencing extraordinary circumstances.
Blending chills with warmth, author Gail Galotta’s flair for
supernatural suspense is tempered with touches of humor, romance, and
nostalgia.
Excerpt from “The Pestilence House”
We moved into our newly constructed home in early June. The first nightmare occurred just two weeks later.
I awoke to the sound of heavy breathing. Thinking at first that it was Ken, I swept my arm across to his side, but it was vacant. I quickly realized that something else was present in the room, something that was steadily approaching the bed. I lay there paralyzed, my back to the presence that hovered above me for a moment and then lowered toward my head. I could feel the subtle waves of labored breaths against the nape of my neck. I tried to scream, but terror froze my vocal cords. Is this a dream? It must be a dream! Where is Ken! Then, another sound invaded my ears—a guttural noise, like that of an animal. A racoon? A coyote? I jerked my head around and opened my mouth to fend off the beast with a mighty shout. Instead, my lips encountered the extended tongue of a different creature. His distorted face—with its bulbous nose and bulging eyes—scarcely seemed human. His skin was dappled with bruises and only thinly veiled the skeletal frame beneath. Suddenly, the tongue retracted, and the jaw extended in an effort to speak—or bite. I screamed. A bloodcurdling scream that vanquished the intruder and sent my very human husband rushing upstairs.
Ken turned on the light and sat next to me on the bed while I attempted an explanation of…I wasn’t sure what. He suggested that my nightmare may have been prompted by something I heard from the movie he had been watching. My trembling eased as he continued. “Sometimes I wake up and think someone’s at our door. You know, like when our dog used to hear a doorbell on TV.”
The reference made me smile. “I didn’t bark, did I?”
Although Ken’s theory seemed plausible, I wasn’t totally convinced. Especially after I suffered a similar experience a few nights later.
Our cocker spaniel had been gone for several years, but when I felt the mattress yield to the weight of something at my feet, my first thought was of that beloved pet, and I instinctively adjusted my position to accommodate her. Then my eyes flashed open. Something was moving slowly along my body. I could feel the light depressions on the blanket, like footsteps in the snow. This time I didn’t scream. My breaths quivered as something pressed gently on my back and then my shoulder. I lay still, waiting to throw off the…squirrel? Rat? But when a whisper approached my ear, I bolted upright. Whatever noise I made alarmed Ken. This time the television was off, and the only ambient sound that could have possibly inspired my dream was
the rhythmic breathing of my husband, who had been asleep next to me in bed.
About the Author
Gail Galotta was raised in Chicago with childhood summers in
Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
She’s always been drawn to the mystical pull of water, which often
shapes the settings of her stories. An award-winning writer and former English
teacher, she lives in Vulcan, Michigan, overlooking the same lake that
inspired her earliest work. When asked what inspires her latest fiction, she
offers only a cryptic smile.
A Practical Guide to Calm Anxiety & Stress, Build Copying Skills, Boost Confidence, Improve Communication, and Strengthen ...
Teens & Young Adult, Self-Help, Stress Management
Date Published: May 31, 2026
Publisher: Growth Mindset Publishing
There will always be times when life is stressful and overwhelming, but with the right tools and techniques in your back pocket, you can bounce back stronger every single time.
School is stressful, your social life is stressful, and the thought of the future is stressful.
Sometimes it seems as though everything is stressful.
If you’re feeling the pressure from every direction, you’re not alone.
Whether they admit it or not, most teens feel this. In fact, research has found that 83% consider school a major source of stress… and that’s before we even get to social media or your relationships with friends and family.
Since everyone’s dealing with it, you might have thought this is just something you have to live with, but did you know that there are things you can do to fortify yourself so that all the stress, anxiety, and overwhelm can roll off your shoulders like water off a duck’s back?
There are a ton of coping strategies that take no more than a few minutes to perform that will make a really big difference in how you handle it all.
Better yet, you can develop the skills that will make it easier to navigate relationships and social situations so that your anxiety doesn’t get so high in the first place.
You’re about to discover it all in this practical and engaging guide, and you’re bound to start noticing the difference immediately.
Inside, you’ll discover:
Exactly what stress is, why it happens, and how to catch it early
·Simple coping strategies for fast relief in any situation that has your heart racing or your mind swirling
How to stay present (and why this will make such a big difference)
What “the white bear effect” is, how it’s affecting your emotions, and what you can do to make all your big feelings easier to handle
How to rewrite your inner voice, bounce back stronger, and build an inner strength that will carry you through life
The art of healthy communication (with practical advice for dealing with conflict, setting boundaries, and much more)
The secret to staying organized without burning out (take the stress out of deadlines and overload)
Your complete social life survival guide: Make your interactions easier and less overwhelming both on and offline
What to do when you’re worried that your stress or anxiety is becoming too intense for you to handle on your own
Fun and practical activities to help you put your new skills into practice right away
And much more.
If you’ve been told to “just relax” or to stay positive more times than you care to remember, you might doubt that there’s much you can do to make life less stressful and overwhelming. You might even have started to worry that you’re the only one who feels like this.
But how are you meant to relax or stay positive when you don’t know what you need to do to get there?
You absolutely have what it takes to handle whatever life throws at you and bounce back from stress, worry, and fear as though you barely felt it at all. All you need are the right strategies—and you’re about to get your hands on all of them.
Ready to armor yourself for life? Get your copy today!!
About the Author
Chad K. Smith is a self-published author, father of two, and dedicated mentor focused on helping teenagers and young adults develop strong financial skills early in life. With more than 25 years of experience in finance and an MBA, Chad recognizes that many people lack a fundamental understanding of how money works, and he is committed to addressing this gap.
In his books, Chad explains money, investing, and life skills in clear, practical steps that teens can understand and apply. He avoids jargon and lengthy lectures, instead offering real-world guidance to help readers build confidence, make informed decisions, and plan for their future, whether by saving, investing, or developing long-term thinking.
Chad distinguishes himself by making financial education empowering, practical, and engaging. His writing encourages teens to take responsibility for their decisions, build strong habits, and believe in their ability to succeed regardless of their background.
Chad’s books have become trusted guides for teens and families who want more than just information; they want action, growth, and a better future. If you are ready to build confidence, take control, and create opportunities your future self will appreciate, Chad K. Smith is poised to guide the way. Take the next step today by downloading a free chapter from his latest book or scheduling a family meeting tonight to set financial goals together. This simple action could be the start of your journey towards financial empowerment.
A crossword puzzle. A vanished archaeologist. A desert that refuses to
forget.
Retired archaeologist Phyllis Doran is enjoying the quiet beauty of the
Arizona desert, until a mysterious crossword puzzle leads her to a trail of
hidden clues. As curiosity pulls her deeper into the puzzle, Phyllis discovers
that some secrets are buried for a reason… and solving this one may
take all her wit and courage.
About the Author
M. J. Coss is the author of the Phyllis Doran Mystery series, beginning with
Across and Down in the Desert. Blending puzzle-driven storytelling with richly
detailed settings, his work explores the intersection of history, language,
and human resilience.
Set against the striking backdrop of the American Southwest, his mysteries
follow retired field archaeologist Phyllis Doran as she uncovers buried
secrets that refuse to stay hidden. With a love of wordplay and layered clues,
Coss crafts stories where every answer leads to a deeper question, and every
puzzle carries real consequences.
He is also the author of the Grady the Groundhog’s Maplewood Tales
series for young readers (also available on Amazon), written under the name
C.A. Coss.
Coss lives in Northeast Ohio with his family, where he continues to write
stories that celebrate curiosity, perseverance, and the thrill of discovery.
