Tuesday, June 9, 2026

A New Year In the Presidential Suite Release Blitz #rabtbooktours




Romantic Women's Fiction

Date Published: June 9, 2026



A New Year…A New Chance at Life

 

As a Christmas surprise, Lori Hamlin’s family sends her to The Beach House Hotel on the Gulf Coast of Florida to help her recover from the loss of her husband two years ago, hoping she will realize it’s time to change her life. There, she meets Griffin Sawyer, who’s on his own after his fiancĂ©e left him at the altar. Neither one is interested in anything but friendship, but Lori and Griff decide to spend the New Year’s holiday together.

Griff has to leave unexpectedly because his grandfather, the owner of the Adeline Hills Winery, has had a stroke. Having been told about wine and growing grapes by Griff, Lori decides to learn more. And when she signs up for a stay at the winery’s guest cottage, she meets Griff and his entire family. Then, they must decide if friendship is what they truly want or if the past will prevent them from moving forward.


A special spin-off book where characters have their own stories but end up at The Beach House Hotel in Florida with Ann and Rhonda. A chance to stay connected to the series in a different way.


About the Author


Judith Keim, A USA Today Best-Selling Author, is a hybrid author who both has a publisher and self-publishes. Ms. Keim writes heart-warming novels about women who face unexpected challenges, meet them with strength, and find love and happiness along the way, stories with heart. Her best-selling books are based, in part, on many of the places she's lived or visited and on the interesting people she's met, creating believable characters and realistic settings her many loyal readers love.

She enjoyed her childhood and young-adult years in Elmira, New York, and now makes her home in Boise, Idaho, with her husband and their adorable dachshunds, Wally and Kacy, and other members of her family.

While growing up, she loved the idea of writing stories from a young age. Books were always present, being read, ready to go back to the library, or about to be discovered. All in her family shared information from the books in general conversation, giving them a wealth of knowledge and vivid imaginations.

Ms. Keim loves to hear from her readers and appreciates their enthusiasm for her stories.

 

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Pridelands Teaser #rabtbooktours



An LGBTQ+ Sci-Fi Paranormal Action Romance

Date Published: June 12, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



Stranded... on Earth. Thrust together by fate, can these offworlders find a way to connect?


The Pridelands 1: Darren’s Surprise
Darren is looking for his brother, but he ends up finding something a little more alien. Durai has come to claim his mate. He won’t let anything get in his way. Not even Darren.

The Pridelands 2: Zula’s Stand
Jai realizes he’s found two people that complete him. Only, one wants nothing to do with him, and the other claims he’s only interested in women.

The Pridelands 3: Sheer’s Choice
Jai’s sister, Rabi’a, isn’t going to sit down and let any man determine her future. She has claws of her own, and Tigris Sheer Ma’at and Leo Rais Steinsson are about to feel them.

The Pridelands 4: Griffin’s Joy
Griffin and Mazin have finally found a woman who completes them both. All they have to do is seduce her. Easy, right? Not if Joy has her way.

The Pridelands 5: Khalid’s Challenge
Khalid Steinsson and Pran Devan were once deeply in love. It will take something monumental to bring them back together.

The Pridelands 6: Achan’s Peace
Achan’s nightmares won’t let him move forward. Hunter Miles needs to be able to express his love for Achan. Tafa Morn never expected to find two wounded souls that needed his particular brand of care. Now that he has, he doesn’t plan to let them go.


Publisher's Note: The Pridelands Box Set contains the previously released novellas Darren's Surprise, Zula's Stand, Sheer's Choice, Griffin's Joy, Khalid's Challenge, and Achan's Peace.

 

Excerpt from Darren's Surprise
Copyright ©2026 Jade Buchanan


Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, he surveyed the loft. A bunk bed was sidled up against the wall beside him. A single bedside table was arranged on the side closest to the stairs, nestled between the dresser and the bed. A large area rug was the only decoration in the middle of the room. Across from it, a very small double bed was set up, the covers strewn about as if a wild animal had slept there the night before.

He tensed, spying the results of his late night.

Sheets of formerly white paper littered the floor. Sketches covered the three walls. It appeared as if he'd gone on some drawing binge last night.

Picking up one piece of paper, he studied the drawing. Anthropomorphic cats sprawled along the page. A head here, a hand there, a full body just barely traced out.

The next sheet he picked up had the same theme as the first. On this one he'd focused on an ear, the pointed tip, the hint of fur shading the delicate slope. He'd drawn the ear from the front and back and every other angle he could possibly imagine.

The next sheet portrayed various tails, some rough and some more detailed. There was one covered in crescent shaped spots, and another that had a hint of stripes.

Every sheet he picked up had the same theme. He'd even used up several sheets just drawing eyes. The corners tilted up in amusement, narrowed with heat, wide with surprise.

Turning his attention to the walls, he realized he'd gone into even more detail here. A planet was stretched above his dad's bed, hints of trees and mountains sketched out in minute detail. Around the planet, he'd obviously started and halted several prototypes, because small shadows of round globes circled the larger shape.

He had no idea where he'd gotten this inspiration from, but he wasn't going to complain. It was some of his best work recently. Apparently he only needed to come out to Bumfuck, Nowhere, to get plenty of material for his next project.

The bunk bed wall and the wall by the stairs were covered with various drawings, some of his past work that had been up for years. He'd done that over a decade ago. It'd been so long he barely noticed it anymore.

Darren scratched his belly, looking down at his chest covered only by the freckles he'd cursed since junior high. He was barefoot, his feet peeking out from under the worn and faded jeans. They were a size too large on him -- courtesy of his rebellious teenage years when he'd been in love with a certain rapper/male model. God, that man was gorgeous. Darren sighed in remembrance. He'd jacked off on more than one occasion to pictures of the underwear model.

Hell, at least his own tighty-whiteys weren't showing above the waistband. Come to think of it, he wasn't wearing underwear. His pants were in danger of falling completely off, hanging precariously from his narrow hips. Darren sniffed, trying to remember when he'd last had clean clothes. The jeans he'd originally found in a forgotten cupboard set along the wall beside the stairs. He hadn't realized he'd left clothes behind but he was grateful for it when his previous jeans just about stood up and demanded to be washed.

Making his way down the stairs into the main room of the cabin, he looked around to see what kind of trouble he'd gotten into out here. His dad was going to tear a strip off him. He was still mad about the two walls in the loft, and Darren had done that in his teens.

Directly across from him were more anthropomorphic cats, drawn up and around the front door. Hell, he'd even drawn on the back of the door itself. He was so screwed when his dad saw this.

Cats of every species… some covered in stripes, some in spots, some furry with tufts of fur along their cheeks. The majority of them resembled lions, though, sleek and beautiful cats. With one single big cat front and center dwarfing the others.

Make that cat men, since every one of them was anatomically correct, especially the large lion creature in the center of the wall. He blinked, impressed despite himself. He'd definitely been more than generous when he'd been shading in the cats' nether regions. Good on him, it'd obviously been way too long since he'd been laid.

No way would he get away with that in a movie. Lordy, he still considered himself lucky every time he got a job on another film. The last thing he needed was for some bigwig to see this display and he'd be laughed out of Hollywood for being a perv.

Not that there weren't a fair share of pervs in Hollywood, but he prided himself on being above the rest of the riffraff.

He turned to view the wall to his left, behind the ragged couch. The two windows interrupted the mural, but it was still impressive.

A massive warship sat high within a galaxy of stars. He'd paid special attention to each constellation, meticulously drawing every tiny detail.

This was by far his best work.

The warship was shaded intricately with blue ink, each hatch set apart from the sleek lines of the ship. What appeared to be weapons stood out from the simple style of the rest of the craft, bulging along the sides and at the front. The entire top of the ship was open, the hint of glass reflecting back at him. Shapes were present behind the glass, but he couldn't quite make them out.

"Not bad," he murmured. "A race of alien beings inhabiting a large planet. A ship carrying space explorers from Earth crash lands. Suddenly the cat-like aliens take the humans prisoner, binding them and using them as slaves."

He snorted, laughing at himself.

"Yeah, sounds familiar. Planet of the Apes, anyone? Strike one for Darren. Although it wouldn't be too bad to be used as a sex slave by some of these big guys. Talk about wishful thinking."

 

About the Author

Jade's writing is as eclectic as her reading tastes, with over thirty five erotic romance stories currently published. She has been known to accept writing challenges from friends and family just to see their reactions. Jade is a firm believer that love and romance are universal concepts, no matter a person's gender identity or sexual orientation.

Originally from Northern Ontario, she's lived in British Columbia and the Sultanate of Oman in the Middle East. Jade currently lives in Calgary, Alberta where she's hard at work on her next story. Jade loves to hear from readers!



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Monday, June 8, 2026

Bad Decisions Make Good Lovers Teaser #rabtbooktours




(Sanctum Black 2): A Razor's Edge Enemies to Lovers BDSM Erotica Short


Erotica

Date Published: June 12, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



Sanctum Black. Rules Marley can follow. Boundaries she won’t cross. Until Lucan…

Marley’s built her life on control. Sanctum Black is the only place she feels safe enough to let go. No names. No past. No attachments. Then Lucan walks in and shatters every one of them. He sees through every wall she’s built and takes exactly what she’s too afraid to give. One night was supposed to be enough. It isn’t. Because now he wants more than her submission… he wants her. And walking away might break her…

Lucan doesn’t believe in coincidence, and he definitely doesn’t walk away from something worth keeping. Marley thinks she’s in control, but he knows better. She’s been hiding behind rules instead of facing what she really needs. Him. Claiming her means crossing lines that can’t be uncrossed, inside Sanctum and out, but once he decides she’s his, there’s no backing down. Marley isn’t a game or a temporary escape. She’s everything. And Lucan doesn’t lose what belongs to him.


Excerpt


Copyright ©2026 Wanda Violet O.

Marley

I slipped through the unmarked door next to the rear entrance of the art gallery, nodding to the security guard, who recognized me despite my elaborate mask. The transition from bright city lights to the subdued glow of the gallery always felt like crossing a threshold between worlds. Tonight, I needed that separation more than usual. The workday had left its residue on my skin, a film of expectations and responsibilities that clung despite my shower. Sanctum Black waited below, promising the only freedom I truly trusted.

“Good evening, Ms. Marley,” the attendant murmured, his eyes never quite meeting mine. Only first names mattered at Sanctum Black, and only the first name of our choosing. I could be anyone I wanted to be.

I offered my keycard to the attendant. He scanned it at the elevator and the doors slid open silently. “Your usual table is ready. Enjoy your evening.” He offered no other pleasantries.

I nodded politely before stepping into the elevator, the doors closing as I turned. The car descended smoothly. When the doors opened to the main lounge, I welcomed the subtle jazz playing through hidden speakers. Sanctum Black represented the only truly safe place in my life. Confidentiality was not a suggestion here. There were hard penalties for even acknowledging anyone you’d met at Sanctum on the outside. The privacy appealed to me more than even the physical release I never failed to receive.

Black velvet stretched across the walls, muffling sound and creating a soothing feel to the atmosphere. The amethyst sconces cast their violet glow in hypnotic patterns. I inhaled the soothing scent of lavender.

Clear rules protected everyone here. I needed that. No one judged at Sanctum. No one got into the club who hadn’t been completely and thoroughly vetted. And no one talked. Ever.

Outside these walls, my life consisted of endless decisions. Even personal relationships became battlegrounds at times. But here, consent was explicit and spelled out beforehand. Desires were stated plainly. Limits were respected absolutely. And for a brief moment, I could surrender to someone, if only in small measure.

I moved deeper into the room. A hostess appeared at my elbow, her approach silent on the thick carpet. “Welcome back,” she said, with a polite smile and escorted me further inside.

The corner table offered the perfect vantage point to see the room so I could… watch. I loved how people interacted with each other here. The dynamics fascinated me on a purely intellectual level. Some of the most powerful men and women in the world frequented Sanctum Black. When provided a place offering complete and guaranteed anonymity, the true nature of these people came through.

Unfortunately for me, I didn’t number among the rich and powerful people here. I’d helped out Mr. Price, the owner of the club, a couple of years ago. My membership was an expression of his gratitude.

I settled into a velvet chair behind the low table, allowing myself to sink into its embrace. I set my leather play bag at my feet next to the table.

A server approached almost immediately, carrying a crystal tumbler on a black lacquered tray, the amber liquid inside catching fragments of the purple light. “Your Macallan 18, neat,” he said, placing it on the obsidian coaster. Another gift from Mr. Price each time I visited.

“Thank you.” I tried to always thank the staff. Mr. Price had been kind to me. The first sip, as always, warmed me all the way down in the most pleasant way. This small pleasure settled me.

Though the club was relatively quiet tonight, the room filled as regulars occupied their usual territories while newcomers gravitated toward the central bar.

A man I recognized, but had never met personally, occupied a leather armchair near the east wall, one leg crossed casually over the other. I knew him only as Lucan. Anything said about him usually only happened in hushed whispers in private.

I noticed Lucan was paying more attention to me tonight because every time I looked up at him, his gaze was pinned me. Unlike the careful poise most patrons maintained, his posture suggested coiled energy, barely contained. Dark hair fell just slightly out of place above eyes that seemed to take in everyone and everything around him. I’d had patrons stare at me before, but nothing like this man. He looked at me like he wanted to possess me. Or maybe, like he already owned me and waited for me to catch up and get the message.

This time when our gazes connected across the room, I didn’t look away and he didn’t back down. I had a brief moment to wonder if I might have somehow stepped into a trap. I usually kept pretty much to myself, only occasionally seeking out a professional at the club to scene with in private. As was the way of the people here, that unspoken request was usually honored and no one approached me.

Lucan ignored that unspoken protocol. His stare was direct. Unwavering. It held none of the polite distance that formed Sanctum’s foundation. He watched me with such focused intent that I felt my skin warm under invisible fingertips.

 

About the Author

Welcome to Wanda Violet O.'s world of bedtime fantasy, where you'll find a variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play... she's got it all. Come take a look for yourself!

 

Wanda on Facebook

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

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15

 

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Saturday, June 6, 2026

IYSH Teaser #rabtbooktours




Fiction

Date Published: 04-17-2025



In 1940, Leo Butlion, a young Jew studying to be a medical doctor in Koblenz, Germany, has his future plans disrupted when Nazi forces destroy his family and their business. His heroic escape and commitment to survive drive him to overcome the greatest test man could ever encounter. Ivy Jacobson, a deformed yet highly talented fashion designer, works in a textile factory in Liege, Belgium that is ransacked by Nazi invaders. She escapes their brutality and meets Leo. Leo explains the Hebrew word IYSH which means "champion" and together they agree to persevere and champion the cause no matter how difficult it becomes. Their heroism and tenacity unfold in dramatic fashion as they are captured, separated and sent to concentration camps where their future survival is unclear. The story develops from WWII until the Yom Kippur War in 1973 which takes place in Israel.

Excerpt

A week later, as roll call is coming to an end, a woman standing close to Ivy begins coughing and heaves clots of blood that splash onto the white frost at her feet. She is so weak she struggles to stay on her feet. She staggers for a moment and then stumbles forward onto the woman in front of her. The weak, sick woman has no strength left, and falls backwards onto Ivy. Ivy instinctively reaches forward to catch her, but is late in getting to her. The weight of the sick woman falls directly onto Ivy’s left arm. As Ivy catches her, she feels the leather strap snap under the woman’s weight. The prosthesis falls to the ground, making a crunching noise as it hits the frost.

Ivy’s first reaction is to camouflage the prosthesis lying on the ground, and she falls onto it, pulling the woman on top of her. “Karen, help me,” is Ivy’s desperate call. Karen notices the whole event, and reacts quickly by falling on top of the two women. A guard pushes his way past the rest of the women, and storms towards them, “Get up! This is no place to lie down!” The rasping command spreads fear into the three women lying on the frost.

They don’t look at the guard and Karen tries to crawl over Ivy and reach for the prosthesis. However, the guard notices the straps sticking out from under the sick woman’s waist. As Karen picks it up, the guard sticks his huge black military boot out and tramples her fingers into the frost. She screams with pain, but does not let go of the thongs, hoping she can hide the prosthesis and the thongs under Ivy and the sick woman. Karen kicks at the guard’s knee high boots, and he doesn’t feel anything. She is trying to distract his attention and allow Ivy to hide the prosthesis.

“What’s this?” The guard kneels down looking at the thongs, and pulls them towards him. He stands up and holds the prosthesis shoulder high. Bewilderment is the first expression he portrays and then a smirk filters over his face. He looks directly at Ivy who lies on the cold frost. She rolls over face down onto the frost

and starts sobbing, knowing that after all she had been through, she has now been found out. Karen crawls towards her on all fours, leans over her, and tries to console her. “Ivy, we must be strong, they won’t hurt us. Be strong, please.” Karen knows she is talking to herself as well, and that the words are futile. This has to be the end for both women.

“Get up!” shouts the guard as he kicks Ivy and Karen. He leaves the sick woman who is unable to move, blood still pouring out of her mouth as she coughs. “I said get up! Are you also deaf, woman!” The statement cuts into Ivy’s heart like a sharp, piecing hot iron.

Karen is the first one on her feet, and she leans over to help Ivy. The guard reacts with a swift thrust of his right arm against Karen’s back that sends her crashing to the ground. “She can get up on her own! Let’s see her do it.” Turning to Ivy, he shouts hysterically at her, “Get up, woman, or must I shoot you now!” Ivy gets to her knees and falls again. Her strength is sapped by fear and anguish. By now, fear and heartache flood both their hearts. For Ivy, it is all over. Surely they will kill me is all she can think of. Oh, why did this have to happen now? She shakes on her feet as she sobs, cradling the left stump in her right hand. Why God, why? The guard grabs Karen by the neck, and pushes her brutally towards the back of the ranks. “We will teach you to betray the Wehrmacht, slut. There is only one way to teach you a lesson, and everyone else!” By now, the guard is so angry at the fact that a woman has concealed her prosthesis from the army, he is prepared to vent this on Karen.

The matron, who is standing on the platform, doesn’t care what the guard does to Karen. Then she points to Ivy, who is still on her knees trying to get up, and commands another guard in a callous fashion, “Bring me that heap of misery!” Ivy is terrified. Her body shakes as she tries to walk through the prisoners towards the matron. As she reaches the platform, Ivy stands in front of the matron, her head is down looking at the ground because she is unable to face her executioner.

“So, you have been hiding this from us all this time!” The words slam into Ivy’s heart as she stands shaking, knowing that this is to be her impromptu trial. “How long have you been like this?” Ivy cannot bring herself to reply. Through the tears, she looks up at the matron.

The matron struts to her desk and drops into the chair. She pays no attention to Ivy, who stands in front of her shaking. Ivy has no control over her emotions anymore, and the anxiety and terror that encases her heart causes her to soil herself. She stands in front of the matron still holding her left stump in her right hand.

Ivy’s fate is in the hands of this plump round-faced matron who, during the years at the camp, has never showed mercy to anyone. Surely Ivy’s punishment will be worse than Karen’s. Oh, God, please help me, I am this way because of you, please God, please, begs Ivy under her breath as she stands trembling from fear.

“How long have you been like this?” inquires the matron for the second time. Ivy tries to straighten up, and she wipes the tears from off her checks. Then she reaches down to her torn dress, and uses it to wipe her nose. She croaks out the words, “Since birth.”

“Then how in tarnation did you get into this camp, and hide this from us all the time!” The matron explodes in anger and slams her fist on the desk as she speaks at the top of her voice. “Do you know what they do to deformed people in the Third Reich?” The question thunders in Ivy’s ears. She knows all too well what happens to them, and she realizes that this is the eventual road she will have to go once the matron is finished with her.

It is too much for Ivy, and her knees cave in under the mental pressure, and she leans forward to hold onto the desk as the gravity of the situation swoops over her.

“Do you know that I have no choice but to follow orders and shoot you?” The uncouth matron, who shows no pity on Ivy, mouths the death knell. With the emptiness of a hangman, she speaks them to Ivy, as if to say, you are done for. “Please, Matron, please,” says Ivy as she sobs, desperately pleading for her life to be spared. She can get nothing else out. Her throat dries up, and her mind is swimming as the overpowering fear avalanches its way into her heart. She falls to her knees under the strain and pressure and hangs onto the edge of the desk, breaking out into a heart wrenching sob.

“Adjutant, get in here!” shouts the matron. This must be the final decision for Ivy, as she realizes she will now be dragged out to the courtyard and shot in front of the other prisoners. She tries to stand up and face the last few minutes of her life with at least some dignity.

The adjutant walks briskly to the matron’s desk and stands to attention, waiting his instructions. To her amazement Ivy hears the words, “Get me this woman’s file.” The adjutant pulls at Ivy’s right arm, and looks at her number, does an about face, walks out of the office, and returns a few minutes later with a brown manila file.

The matron reaches for the file and casually flips it open. Her eyes fall on a letter addressed to her from Captain Willem Langford in the Textile factory in Berlin where Ivy has worked. A frown creases her brow as she holds the letter towards the light.

The matron drops the letter on her desk and speaks to Ivy in a condescending manner, “You seemed to be of some use to this Captain Langford, what did you get up to there? I suppose you were more than a designer, or do I read this incorrectly?” Ivy is insulted by the remark, and for the first time she stares at the matron, this time in indignation. “I don’t know what you mean. I did what I was told, and that’s all.” She gathers enough courage to make her next point very

clear, “Contrary to your thinking, Captain Langford is an honorable man, and a fine officer. As for me, I’m your prisoner, and have never been abused by him.”

“Captain Langford, this is Matron Von Eck at Ravensbruck Concentration Camp.”

“Yes, Matron, what can I do for you?” Langford is cordial and to the point. “I want you to think back to when you had a prisoner working for you. Her name was Jacobson, she was…”

The matron can say no more as Langford immediately interrupts her. “Yes, I remember her, Matron. She did the Wehrmacht excellent service, even as a prisoner.” There is a moment of silence before Langford speaks again. “Matron, it was the last day she worked for us. The moment I found out she had one hand, I sent her back to you. This was also the day that General Gruber visited the factory, and gave us orders to start a new production line for the next phase for the war. It was when I was discussing the new designs with her that I found out she was deformed.”

Langford uses his superior rank on the matron and reacts to her question, “I wrote to you the day I transferred her back to you. How come you are calling me now about this woman?” The question is direct and places the matron on the defensive.

“Something has come up, and she is involved in it. I needed to get clarification from you.” Her answer is evasive and almost works.

Langford again decides to use his rank, and in an unprecedented manner, commands the matron. “I will need her very soon again. In fact I am looking for workers with such talent right now, and instructing you to do nothing with her. I will contact you within the month, and arrange her transfer back to this factory. Is that understood?”

The matron has no choice but to obey the officer who is much higher in rank than her. She also realizes that there is nothing she can do to Ivy. That is her instruction, and she had better take care of Ivy, or she will be held accountable by her superiors if anything happens to her.

The matron replaces the receiver, scowls as she shuffles the papers back into Ivy’s folder, and bellows, “Jacobson, get back in here, now!”

As Ivy walks back into the office expecting to hear her death sentence, to her amazement, Ivy hears the matron growl at her as she struggles to say, “Return to your barrack. Let me be clear on this, if you ever flaunt your deformity to anyone, or on any guard, I will personally take great delight in punishing you. Do you hear me?”

Ivy does not answer her. She turns around and walks out of the office. As she leaves, she looks up at the sky. It is grey and miserable that morning. But, now there is a ray of sunshine peeping through a gap in the clouds. She takes hold of her left arm and says through the tears of relief, “IYSH”.


About the Author

 

 Greg Price is a writer, human resource expert and an ordained minister. He has traveled extensively throughout the world and shares his experiences by translating them into literary characters who inspire and motivate the reader. Greg immigrated to the United States from south Africa and currently lives with his wife in Mississippi.


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Friday, June 5, 2026

The Terrible Old Woman's Friday Surprise Enchanted Map Reading


 It's amazing how I manage to look drunk when I don't drink alcohol. I haven't been hitting the edibles either. It's all part of my natural charm. If you're seeking guidance or even just entertainment from an irreverent and sarcastic old diviner who's far from divine, look no further. This surprise reading has the answers you didn't know you were seeking!


 

Room 13 Book Blitz #rabtbooktours




History / War / Biography

Date Published: April 13, 2026

Publisher: MindStir Media

 


What happens when training ends—and real combat begins?
In ROOM 13: A Fighter Pilot’s Story, Colonel Kenneth Gilmore delivers a gripping, firsthand account of life as a fighter pilot during the Vietnam/Laos conflict, where survival was never guaranteed—and every mission could be your last.

This powerful military memoir traces Gilmore’s extraordinary journey from a college football coach to an elite U.S. Air Force fighter pilot, flying some of the most iconic aircraft of the era, including the F-102, F-101, A-1 Skyraider, and F-106.

But nothing could prepare him for the brutal reality of war.


✈️ 220 Combat Missions. One Life-Changing Experience.
Assigned to fly the A-1 Skyraider—an aircraft with one of the highest loss rates of the Vietnam War—Gilmore quickly learned that traditional training fell short in the face of enemy fire.

After being shot down during mission 130, he survived hours on the ground before rescue—an experience that would forever shape his life, leadership, and understanding of war.


🔥 The Seven Rules That Meant Survival
In the chaos of combat, Gilmore and a fellow pilot developed seven essential rules for survival—lessons forged under extreme pressure and life-or-death conditions.

These principles became the foundation of his leadership when he later returned to command and mentor fellow fighter pilots as an Operations Officer.


🎖️ A Story of Courage, Leadership, and Sacrifice
Over the course of his career, Gilmore flew 220 combat missions and earned numerous honors, including three Distinguished Flying Crosses for heroism. His rapid rise through the ranks to Colonel reflects both his skill and leadership—but also came at a cost, pulling him away from the cockpit he loved.

 


About the Author


Colonel Kenneth Gilmore (USAF Ret.) is a decorated Vietnam War fighter pilot and author of ROOM 13: A Fighter Pilot’s Story. With over 220 combat missions in the A-1 Skyraider and three Distinguished Flying Crosses for heroism, his experiences in air combat shaped both his military career and Phis life. Today, he shares his story to honor fellow pilots and educate future generations about the realities of war.


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The Shadow and the Scepter Book Blitz #rabtbooktours




Tales of Méhns Móri, Book 1


Low Fantasy, Greek Mythology & Legend, and Dark Fantasy

Date Published: May 19, 2026



When the gods went to war, they shattered the world.

Kingdoms burned. Ancient powers fell. And in the ruins they left behind, the shadow of Coruk-Azul the one-eyed god of death still lingers.

Hidden among the remnants of that forgotten age lies the Scepter of Selene, a divine relic once capable of maintaining balance between gods and mortals. Now broken into scattered fragments, the scepter has become the center of a brutal race that could reshape the fate of the world.

Endymion, a healer from distant Miletus, never sought glory or war. But after arriving in the Greek colony of Phanagoria at the edge of civilization, he is drawn into a deadly conflict alongside warriors, exiles, and survivors bound together by prophecy, secrets, and survival.

Because something ancient is rising.

Vädumir.

Undying conqueror. Cursed warlord. A tyrant who has outlived kingdoms and buried entire empires beneath blood and ash. For centuries, Vädumir has hunted the fragments of the scepter, and he will destroy anyone standing in his path.

If the relic is restored, balance may return to a dying world.

If it fails, something far worse may awaken beneath the ruins of the gods.

Blending dark fantasy, Greek mythology, celestial magic, vampires, giants, and ancient Black Sea civilizations, The Shadow and Scepter is a fast-paced historical fantasy epic perfect for readers of John Gwynne, Joe Abercrombie, and Jay Kristoff.

 

 

About the Authors

Long before they began writing epic fantasy together, Timothy Manley and Shawn McMichael were Navy brats growing up on Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay. They filled their youth with adventures, imagination, and late nights lost in role-playing and strategy games where heroes, monsters, and distant worlds first took shape. Decades later, that shared love of storytelling became The Shadow and the Scepter, the first novel set in the mythic world of Méhns Móri: a realm forged from ancient history, forgotten legends, and the sweeping traditions of heroic fantasy.


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Shawn McMichael is a storyteller who draws inspiration from history, mythology, and a lifelong hunger for discovery, having traveled to over thirty countries. With degrees in communications and history education and a long career spanning the software and gaming industries, he has spent decades in pursuit of the stories only the past can tell. Shawn lives in Washington State with his wife and family.



Timothy Manley is the author of multiple science fiction and fantasy works, including the Earthborn Saga. A veteran of the software and gaming industries, he brings deep experience in world-building and narrative design to everything he writes. Tim holds a BA in English from San Francisco State University and an MBA from Western Governors University, and lives in Oregon with his wife and two of his five children.

 

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