Children’s Book / Alphabet / Early Learning / Picture Book
Date Published: September 3, 2025
Take your little one on a sunny adventure through the Sunshine State with My ABC Florida — a bright, cheerful alphabet book filled with fun, Florida-themed words and charming illustrations.
From A for Alligator to Z for Zoo, each page introduces a new letter with colorful scenes that celebrate Florida’s nature, culture, and magic. Perfect for toddlers and preschoolers, this heartwarming book supports early learning through positive visuals, simple words, and a whole lot of sunshine.
* Early letter recognition
* Florida-themed vocabulary
* Beautiful, vibrant artwork
* Great for bedtime or classroom reading
A perfect gift for curious little explorers — whether you live in Florida or love it from afar!
About the Author
Born in the heart of Siberia, Russia, she pursued her passion for storytelling with a degree in Journalism. A mother of two, she blends life experience with creativity, crafting stories that inspire and guide children in meaningful ways.
Children’s Books → Health, Safety & Daily Life
Date Published: September 9, 2025
Rick and Dan are just ordinary boys — but with them and their friends, learning about fire safety becomes an exciting and important adventure!
In this beautifully illustrated children's book, kids will learn the most important fire safety rules in a fun and engaging way. From knowing when to call 911 to how to safely exit a building during a fire, “Fire Safety Basics” helps children build confidence and stay calm — without fear or panic.
What makes this book special:
* Designed for kids ages 3–8
* Gentle, hand-drawn illustrations on every page
* Covers real-life fire safety tips in a playful, reassuring way
* Great for early learners, preschoolers, and elementary students
* Perfect for reading at home or in classrooms
Whether you're a parent, teacher, or caregiver, this book is a warm, thoughtful tool to introduce children to fire safety in a way they’ll understand — and remember.
About the Author
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Children's Book
Date Published: July 16, 2025
When grandpa rules are about to be written…
Grampy’s in charge. He might sip a soda in a safari zone… and then forget to throw it away. One curious rhinoceros just can’t resist a taste—and that’s when the wild, fizzy fun begins. Expect giggles, sneezes, and a rhino with a serious case of the burps!
* A playful tale about friendship, curiosity, and saying “oops”—Grampy’s best moments happen when things go wrong
* Sweet theme of grandparent-grandchild bonding—featuring Grampy, Elliott, Lennon, and a very nosy rhino
* Beautifully illustrated with colorful artwork that brings Todd Cardin’s silly circus of soda chaos to life
Perfect for favorite moments:
* Children learning to love reading
* Parents and grandparents seeking silly stories to share
* Preschool classrooms looking for fun rhyming books with life lessons about kindness and responsibility
When he’s not writing or directing, Todd enjoys pretending to know what he’s doing, chasing ideas, and occasionally chasing grandchildren. He also has a television series in development titled *Late Hit”— a comedy-driven musical drama and is part of Todd’s growing body of work beyond the stage and page.
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LGBTQ Romance, Dark Fantasy, Steamy
Date Published: October 10, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press
Trust is Fraught (Medically Necessary 2): As the leader of the werewolves sinks further into insanity, Amir and Oliver fight prejudice and time to rescue their alpha. As Oliver and Amir are pulled deeper into the dangers of the psychic world, their love may be the only thing keeping them sane.
Trust is Sacred (Medically Necessary 3): Oliver’s terrible secret is eating him alive. Amir thinks purging and confession are medically necessary for spiritual and physical well-being, but Oliver will stop at almost nothing to hide his scars.
Can either of them learn to trust?
Excerpt from Trust is Earned
He had tended to different members of the Tilthos and Merle werewolf packs over the years. Being positioned in southern Erie County, located in Upstate New York, had been the best thing he could do for his medical practice. Once he’d finally convinced Nicholas Black of the Merle pack in Buffalo, New York, to work with him as the werewolf equivalent of a midwife, his office was often full to bursting with pregnant female werewolves.
And it didn’t matter one bit that he spoke Werewelsh, the native language of most werewolves, with an accent or as only his fourth language. For Dr. Amir Othman, the prejudice he might have encountered because of his unusual parentage and his even more unique upbringing was all overshadowed by one truth. He was good at his job.
That didn’t make him less nervous to meet the alpha above all alphas. Tilthos Charles, alpha of his own pack and leader of the wolves of North and South America, was supposedly intimidating. All of which pointed to this truth: while Amir had healed every magical creature from djinns to kelpies, and even two dragons, he still worried about doing or saying the wrong thing in Tilthos Charles’s presence.
What bothered him even more was that he almost qualified as a lone wolf. A “packless loner,” in werewolf-speak, and that was not a compliment. He had a technical pack, run by Kreisha Alexander. When that particular alpha threw his weight around, everyone obeyed. Thankfully, that pack was in Washington, DC, nearly two hundred miles away. So, unless Alpha Alexander gave him an edict directly over the phone, as opposed to in an email or via snail mail, Amir could basically do as he chose.
Except, now the alpha above all alphas was coming to his office and would surely demand to know why he hadn’t switched his allegiance to a pack up here in New York. “It doesn’t have to be mine,” the most powerful werewolf on the planet would say, “but it can’t be you operating under your own aegis.”
So, when his assistant, Carly, sent him a message that Tilthos Charles was here, Amir’s pulse picked up. He responded to her message, saying he’d be in Exam Room Three in under five minutes. Then he did a deep breathing exercise, using the five senses trick he’d learned as a young wolf when he first realized he wanted to become a doctor and would be around blood and anxious magical creatures.
Five things he could see. His fidgety hands. By crossing his eyes, he could see his nose. His computer screen, which held everything his clinic had on the alpha above all alphas. Trying to look farther away in an attempt to slow his racing heart, he looked at the carpet in front of his desk. It was a boring brown that didn’t hold his attention. Finally, he looked at the door where he’d hung a poster of a Great Pyrenees, which was the closest breed to his family’s wolf forms, which were usually white.
Four things he could hear… The thudding of his heart. The rush of blood in his veins, which meant he was really keyed up still because even though he was a werewolf with acute hearing, he didn’t usually pay attention to the sounds of his own or others’ bodies. He struggled hard to refocus and heard the buzzing of the fluorescent light in the ceiling. He needed one more thing, so he made his chair creak. Oddly, the sound of something he could completely control helped him breathe a little easier.
Three things he could touch… The pen in his hand, which he’d been nervously twirling. He set it down. The feel of the chair under him, with his suit coat slung over the back. He could also feel his toes in his shoes. He breathed in more deeply than he’d managed so far and felt still a bit better.
Two things he could smell… He could no longer smell adrenaline. That was a good thing. He lifted his hand to his nose and smelled the soap he’d washed with maybe ten minutes ago.
And one thing he could taste, which was his cold lavender matcha latte.
Glancing at the clock icon on his computer, he saw it had been almost three minutes. Well, it was now or never. He doubted he’d be calmer if he sat here longer. So, he stood, straightened his white medical coat, and left the office. He listened to people talking quietly in the waiting room as he passed. He smiled at Carly, who mouthed, “Good luck.” Then he knocked on the door of Exam Room Three.
“Please come in.”
The voice that had responded was lightly accented, and he wondered why no one had ever told him Tilthos Charles was Hispanic. Then he was in the room, and he saw there were two people inside. The werewolf was certainly Tilthos Charles and the psychic vampire… Oh, yes. Tilthos Charles’s mate was a psychic vampire.
The alpha wolf sat on the exam table and his mate stood at his side. It was actually the psychic vampire who moved first, holding out his hand. “Dr. Othman, I’m Luis McLaughlin.”
Amir shook with him and then offered his hand to the burly werewolf. He saw the wolf’s eyes flicker quickly down to his hand and then away. Then his hand was taken and Tilthos Charles said, “Please to meet you, Dr. Othman.”
He sounded it too, but there was something bothering him. Well, and didn’t that make sense? Folks who were completely healthy rarely came to the doctor’s office.
“The pleasure is mine,” Amir returned, smiling at both of them. Then he retreated until he could sit on his stool. He watched Tilthos Charles’s eyes try to focus on him. “Forgive me, but while I have some information about your general health, I know very little about your visual impairment.”
He saw his guess had been right, that the alpha above all alphas indeed had something wrong with his vision.
“I told you he’d know,” said Luis as his mate brought out a folded white cane from behind his back.
“Forgive me the test, Dr. Othman,” said Charles, “but I’ve been seen by too many doctors who miss the obvious until I point it out to them.” He settled the cane on his leg, keeping one hand on it so it wouldn’t fall. “We’re here today, not because of my visual impairment, which has been unchanged since I was born, but because Luis is convinced there’s something…” He hesitated.
Luis said, “He’s distracted and agitated.”
Amir watched Charles’s nostrils flare and his pupils dilate. “I’m on edge because Agent Sowerby’s… Shit. I must be off-balance somehow if I’m about to spill state secrets.” He smiled ruefully at Amir. “Forgive me. Luis is right. I just can’t figure out how you’ll help me or if there is any help for the mess we’re about to be in.”
“May I examine you?”
Charles nodded.
Amir went through all the basics, including sending the alpha werewolf out to give him a urine sample. When the door closed, he turned to Luis. “How long has he been on edge?” He could smell the wolf’s almost panic.
“About three weeks. “
“Did anything precipitate his anxiety?”
Luis sighed. “I’m not sure what’s really private. I assume you’re bound by medical confidentiality?”
“I am.” He could see the psychic vampire hesitating. “Please tell me everything you can. I cannot be effective while only possessing half the facts.”
“My mate holds the belief that the head of SearchLight is going to expose all magical creatures.”
Amir’s mouth went dry. “I know Tilthos Charles probably has the ear of SearchLight. Is he correct?”
“Absolutely not, but I can’t convince him of that.”
“Has he talked to…” He couldn’t remember the name of the new head of SearchLight, only that Agent Weinberg had stepped down.
“I’ve tried getting Jack Sowerby to talk to him. No dice. Not that Agent Sowerby wouldn’t, but Charlie didn’t believe him.”
Amir held up his hand. The bathroom door had creaked open. He turned his head toward the exam room’s entrance for good measure.
Tilthos Charles entered. “Your assistant took my sample.”
Amir said soothingly, “Please, Alpha, sit down.”
He saw his words had the opposite effect to what he’d intended. Instead of resting on the table again, Tilthos Charles drew himself up. He was taller than Amir by half a foot and intimidating as hell.
Sitting on his stool, making himself as nonthreatening as possible, Amir put his hands palms up on his thighs. “I mean you no harm.”
Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15
Mozart, Einstein, Jobs
Nonfiction, History, Biographies
Date Published: October 6, 2025
* Mozart’s father paraded him across Europe as a child prodigy, driving him to dazzling heights and early ruin.
* Einstein’s mother pushed him relentlessly, molding a stubborn dreamer into the world’s most famous scientist.
* Steve Jobs was adopted by a machinist and a bookkeeper, raised in a California garage where craftsmanship met rebellion—only to falter when fatherhood became his own test.
Written as gripping narrative nonfiction, Raising Genius reads like a novel but stays true to history. You’ll walk candlelit halls in Vienna, sit in Einstein’s parlor in Bern, and stand in the Los Altos garage where Apple was born. Each scene is real, each triumph shadowed by sacrifice.
This is not just another biography. It is a reflection on parenting and genius—how families shape greatness, and what genius costs in return.
Mozart gave his body.
Einstein gave his family.
Jobs gave his daughter.
The world remembers their brilliance. This is the story of the parents who made—and unmade—them.
About the Author
I blend backgrounds in psychology, neuroscience, and business strategy to create books that help parents and readers think differently about raising children, balancing modern life, and understanding the roots of genius. My work spans practical parenting guides like Raising Future Leaders and Perfect Parents Don’t Exist, as well as narrative nonfiction such as Raising Genius: Mozart, Einstein, Jobs — The Price of Brilliance.
Through my writing and consulting, I aim to make research and history not only accessible, but actionable—so that families can thrive, and readers can see the world in new ways.
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More Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist
A life of adventure, science, and survival— one man's journey from writing for Star Trek® to exploring the edges of the world
Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense
Date Published: October 10, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press
Dylan -- I thought I could handle my uncle’s world. I thought if I kept my head down and stayed quiet, I could survive with the help of the mysterious man who’d slipped into my bed like a secret I didn’t want to question. But one night everything shattered. My uncle Eli handed me off to a trafficker like I was nothing, and the man I trusted turned out to be the ghost Eli thought he’d left hanging in the woods -- the man who would kill to keep me safe.
Vendetta -- I used to be Tank, proud to wear the Cottonmouth patch, until I spoke out against the rot our so-called leaders let poison our MC. They hung me for it. I crawled out of my grave and took a new name. Now I’m back to burn the criminal empire infecting Oak Grove, and the Cottonmouths that invited it in, to the ground.
Dylan was never supposed to be part of the plan. Hell, she’s the niece of the man who betrayed me. But I’ll die before I let him hurt her again. And when Eli and his men try to finish what they started, they’ll see I’m not the same man they tried to bury.
Warning: Vendetta is intended for readers 18+ due to explicit adult content, violence, and bad language. There’s no cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed HEA.
Dylan
Ned’s Sundown Lounge looked rougher in the light of day than it ever did at night.
Dylan Crizer waited across the street with her keys clenched in her hand, taking it all in. The building looked old, dressed in faded black brick. The same flickering neon sign that barely spelled the word “Open” was still there. She remembered it from passing by that building as a child. The tinted windows smeared with fingerprints and smoke stains were new. While the building wasn’t falling apart just yet, it had clearly seen better days. Maybe better decades.
Yeah, it was as bad as her Uncle Eli had said it was. It blew her mind that he was now co-owner of the bar that had been there most of her life. Eli Crizer was a big bad biker, president of the Cottonmouths and all that, but he’d never been well-off before. How did a biker get that kind of money? Did he dip into his retirement account? Did he even have one of those?
Not long after she returned to Oak Grove, she found out her uncle had bought the place with a “business associate.” How did he get a business associate? The place had always fascinated her, so when she saw the ‘help wanted’ sign in the window, she marched herself in and applied right away. Not surprisingly, her uncle, who hadn’t made time to reach out to her so far, called her the same day about her application.
“It’s not the place for you, Dylan,” he said right off the bat. When she asked why, he countered with, “It’s gonna be full of drunks, ex-cons, and worse.”
She thought the fact that she’d been a waitress for years would guarantee her the job. She had bartender experience too, although she wasn’t the best at making drinks consistently good in a rough environment. Her uncle didn’t agree. “You’re a Crizer. You’re better than serving drinks to scummy people.”
But here she was anyway. Not just because she had something to prove. She now had something to rebuild. Her entire life basically. Maybe she wouldn’t be starting a new job today; Eli as a co-owner could cut her off. But she had to try.
Dylan spent five years with a man who couldn’t commit and didn’t want her to grow. Five years pretending she was happy in a dead-end relationship in Richmond. When she left him and the city, she made up her mind that she’d come back to Oak Grove and figure it out from the ground up. She’d start over. Hell, she was only twenty-five. She had time.
She was starting over right here at Ned’s Sundown Lounge.
Pushing through the front door, Dylan blinked as her eyes adjusted to the low light inside the bar. The entire place smelled of old leather, cheap whiskey, and stale beer. It appeared to be well stocked and mostly clean despite all the scuff marks and the sticky spots along the floor. The tables were roomy and spaced out well around its central dance floor. A narrow hallway led off in the direction of the restrooms and the back offices. Ned’s Sundown Lounge had its own unique charm. If you squinted.
“Good afternoon,” came a voice from behind the bar. A tall, older woman with a sharp jaw and leopard-print eyeglasses worked at polishing glasses, watching Dylan with a smile. “You must be Eli’s niece.”
“Dylan,” she said, stepping up to the bar. “Here for my first day.”
At least she hoped she was. If Eli told them she couldn’t work there, what would she do? She really needed the job and had already told him that.
“I’m Peggy,” the woman said in the way of introduction as she gave her a once-over and nodded like she approved of what she saw. “You got the job. Just stay aware and don’t take shit from anyone. Even the regulars. You’ll be fine.”
Dylan didn’t hesitate. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Come on.” Peggy put the last glass she polished on the bar and motioned for Dylan to follow her.
Down that narrow hallway and to the left was a line of really old lockers outside the business offices. All of them had huge padlocks, protecting the personal items the employees wanted to tuck away. Just one, at the far end, had a small key stuck in the bottom of its padlock. Peggy pointed to that one.
“There’s only one key,” Peggy warned. “If you lose it, you’re responsible for getting a new lock, okay?”
Dylan nodded, tucking her purse into the locker and securing it with the padlock before sliding its tiny silver key into the front pocket of her jeans.
Peggy jerked a thumb in the opposite direction. “The kitchen is that way. There’s not a lot of menu options to memorize. Burgers, fries, nachos. I think they have chili a couple of times a week. None of it is that great.”
Good to know. Pulling the hair tie from her wrist, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail as she followed the woman back through the bar, taking in every corner as she went. Dylan was many things but naive wasn’t one of them.
Her Uncle Eli had influence here and he led a shady biker club. And now he was a co-owner of this place. People didn’t just “run bars” these days. Bars were often covers for other things. More shady shit. She’d left a couple of bars after learning they were running drugs out of them. The second one had a full police raid one night and it took hours for it to be cleared up so everyone could go home. She never returned because drugs were dangerous and brought dangerous people. No job was worth putting herself in the line of fire.
But until she had proof that something wasn’t right here at her uncle’s bar, she was going to do the damn job. Unfortunately, she needed the money to get back on her feet.
Smile. Hustle. Listen. It had been her mantra since her first job in a bar.
Peggy looked to be somewhere in her forties. She had a no-nonsense attitude that had to come in handy in a place as rough as this. “House rules. Keep the regulars’ drinks full and staff are not allowed to talk politics. Or religion. People don’t want to think about religion when they’re drinking and partying, you know? The jukebox plays when it fucking wants to, so no beating it or kicking it. If Ned’s here and he sees you do it, he’ll lose his mind.”
“Who’s Ned?” Dylan asked.
“The other co-owner,” Peggy replied. “Try not to piss him off, even if you are Eli’s family.”
“Understood,” Dylan said.
“Now, if a fight breaks out and there’s usually one each fucking week,” Peggy explained, “don’t be a hero. Just try and get clear and wave down one of the bouncers. We usually have at least two of them scheduled each night. It’s not a bad idea to check the schedule. It’s on the whiteboard with the lockers. See who’s on duty each night so you know who you’re looking for.” She jerked her chin in the direction of the far end of the bar.
Dylan followed her gaze to the two huge guys leaning against the back wall near the hallway, perfectly still and silent. One of them was built like a refrigerator with tattoos creeping up both sides of his neck. The other looked mean even though he wasn’t actively trying to at that moment. He was leaner with an angular face and a body you could only get from hours each week in the gym. The gym rats were hit-or-miss as bouncers. Dylan would be willing to bet money that the fridge was the one to flag down in a fight.
“They don’t talk much, but they move fast, let me tell you. If some shit goes down, make eye contact, give a nod, and then get out of the way. Got it?”
“Got it,” Dylan said, scanning the room as Peggy handed her an apron and a notepad. “Is there a panic button or something? I’ve worked in other places that had them.”
Peggy snorted. “This ain’t Applebee’s, sweetheart. You see something coming, you move. Fast.”
It wasn’t the serious lack of formal safety protocols that raised Dylan’s eyebrows. It was the way Peggy said it, like fights weren’t just a possibility, they were expected. Like there was a rhythm to them and they were allowed. She nodded and kept listening, but something about that rubbed her wrong.
“Most of our business is on the weekends, of course, but the VIPs come in all during the week,” Peggy went on, already moving back to the bar to stock napkins in old-fashioned metal boxes. “You’ll know them when you see them. They don’t tip, but don’t piss them off. Eli likes to keep them happy.”
Dylan paused, notebook in hand. “VIPs?”
“Locals. Out-of-towners. Some are from his MC. Doesn’t matter,” Peggy said, without looking up. “You serve what they order and stay out of their conversations. That’s not me being rude. That’s me keeping you employed.”
The words hit her like a warning. Something about all of it, the emphasis, the look in Peggy’s eyes, the way she didn’t offer names made Dylan’s stomach tighten as she kept listening, wondering what else she was going to hear. Nodding, she filed it all away and forced a smile.
“Thanks for showing me the ropes,” Dylan said. “I appreciate it.”
Peggy finally looked at her, a long, assessing stare. Then she shrugged. “You’ve got the eyes for this place. You watch everything. That’s good. Just make sure you don’t watch too closely, yeah?”
Dylan didn’t answer. But she was definitely paying attention.
“One last thing.” Peggy spoke quietly. “You’re one of the owner’s family members which probably means you’d have to really fuck up to get fired. But just keep in mind, you’re still expendable.”
“I’ll do my best to remember that.”
The evening crowd was light, just as Peggy explained it would be. It was Thursday night, and Ned’s Sundown Lounge always did look better at night. The dim lighting and the fact that the sun had already set, covered the bar’s many imperfections better than paint ever could. The jukebox was working tonight, playing songs that were moody and lazy, and they filled the space without drawing attention.
The regulars were easy to spot, planted on barstools like fixtures, beers in front of them. Some of them talked to each other in low voices, some were there on their own. Dylan had just finished clearing one of her tables when the cool night air blew a newcomer through the front doors.
Dylan glanced up and paused.
The newest patron was tall and built. She didn’t think she’d seen him before. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. She was just back in town after having been gone several years.
The man who just walked in didn’t look like a local. Six-four, easy, with broad shoulders under a worn jean jacket and a dark hoodie that had definitely seen better days. His long dark hair was pulled back low at the neck, and a beat-up baseball cap shadowed most of his face. Not that it helped much. He was fine and pretty hard to miss.
Dark eyes scanned the room once, slow and deliberate. He didn’t come across as cocky, just aware. Like he was used to being in places where trouble could find him in a hurry. When his gaze finally landed on her, it lingered for half a second longer than it needed to. Not creepy or flirty. Maybe interested.
Dylan straightened and stepped behind the bar, already reaching for a clean glass. But the new guy didn’t sit at the bar like most of them. No, he picked out a booth near the back, one that gave him the best line of sight on both the bar’s exits.
Shit, they really must have fights often here.
Dylan clocked that and noticed how relaxed his movements were. Like someone trained not to draw attention but fully capable of handling it if he had to.
She walked over with a notepad in hand, smiling when his gaze met hers. “You look like a bourbon guy,” she said by way of greeting.
“It depends on who’s pouring,” he said, voice deep and gravel smooth.
About the Author
Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She's anxious to introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie. But there's thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the feels.
Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on the side, and she's an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys time with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror movies and shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds writing and reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward to hearing from you.
Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15
Date Published: 2025
Publisher: Serapis Bey Publishing
Ready…Set…Let’s Roll!
About the Author
When teaching at the preschool level, Claudia encouraged busy parents to utilize the time spent carrying out daily routines as language-rich opportunities. Parents were counseled to talk about what was happening in a child’s “here and now” - while getting dressed, brushing teeth, taking a stroller walk! Claudia used available and self-generated rhymes and songs and involved as many bodily senses and movements as possible to facilitate developmental skills in preschoolers. She considers the repetition used in The Wheels on the Bus book and now in The Wheels on the Stroller to be a valuable learning tool for young children. According to early childhood research, repetition reinforces language processing, pattern recognition and a sense of predictability. It also provides children with opportunities to rehearse new sound and word sequences.
After retirement, Claudia’s love of rhyme inspired her to take a few children’s poetry writing classes. She was pleased to have several poems published in “Highlights High Five” and “Highlights” magazines, with two poems also published in children’s anthologies. The joy of reading to her sons long ago and now her grandchildren sparked her desire to write a children’s book as well. One day, after she and her young grandson enthusiastically sang and motioned along with The Wheels on the Bus book, grandma and grandson set out for one of their many adventure-seeking neighborhood stroller walks. As the wheels on his stroller went round and round, they greeted neighbors with tail-wagging dogs, watched squirrels scurry up trees and delighted in the “ding! ding! ding!” of an approaching bicycle along with other encounters- The Wheels on the Stroller was spontaneously born!
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Music Fiction
Date Published: 09-30-2025
Publisher: Covfefe Press
For anyone who's ever said, "They're playing my song!"
SUSAN SLOATE is the author or co-author of more than 25 published books. This includes 3 editions of Forward to Camelot, a time-travel thriller about the JFK assassination that became a #6 Amazon bestseller, was honored in 3 literary competitions and was optioned by a Hollywood company for film production. She also wrote the autobiographical Broadway novel Stealing Fire, which became a #2 Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release, and Realizing You (with Ron Doades), for which she invented a new genre: the self-help novel.
Another Snoop Dogg movie for this month's Readers Imbibing Peril Challenge.
Read the unfavorable yet affectionate review of the movie here.
https://djbooth.net/features/2015-09-03-trapflix-snoop-dogg-mouse-trap-movie/
Children's Book
Date Published: August 23, 2025
Connecting the Dots is a heartfelt and inspiring children’s story about Sakhi, a curious and cheerful girl from a cozy town in the country of Uta. From her love of dot-to-dot activity books to her discovery of the beautiful Indian art of Rangoli Kolam with her mother, Sakhi’s world is full of wonder and creativity.
When a special trip to the planetarium opens her eyes to the magic of the stars, Sakhi’s imagination soars. She learns to connect the dots in the sky, uncovering stories told through constellations like Orion and Leo. With the love and support of her family, Sakhi’s childhood passion grows into a lifelong dream of exploring the universe.
This beautifully illustrated story celebrates curiosity, creativity, and the joy of discovery. It encourages young readers to look closely at the world around them and to follow their dreams—because every great adventure begins by connecting the dots.
Perfect for children ages four to eight, Connecting the Dots gently teaches the value of family, learning, and reaching for the stars.
Priya is also the creator of Pear Sprouts—a space dedicated to the ever-evolving journeys of parenting, growing up, and lifelong learning. At Pear Sprouts, we believe in making these experiences enriching, joyful, and memorable. Through our website, we share our engaging “Word Bytes”—wisdom-filled stories for children, available on Amazon in both eBook and paperback formats.
To discover more of Priya's storybook adventures and explore Pear Sprouts, visit http://www.pearsprouts.com.
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