Once Upon a Blue Moon Book Blitz #rabtbooktours

Paranormal Romance/Mystery

Date Published: July 1, 2025

Magic, mystery, and enemies-to-something-much-sweeter collide in this cozy paranormal romance full of heart, humor, and hexes.

 

Hazel Thornton is a small-town witch with a knack for brewing potions, botching spells, and annoying her grumpy werewolf neighbor, Blake Carter. But when a magical mishap leaves them trapped in each other’s bodies, they’re forced to work together—awkwardly, sarcastically, and very much against their will.

To make matters worse, Moonridge is on edge. Wolves are acting strange. Magic is going haywire. And beneath Hazel’s apothecary, something old and dangerous is waking up. As Hazel and Blake stumble through spellwork, supernatural politics, and a suspiciously perfect wellness guru with a shady agenda, one thing becomes clear: this body swap isn’t their biggest problem.

As Hazel and Blake race to reverse the spell, they uncover secrets that could tear the town apart. But the deeper they dive into the mystery, the more they realize their biggest problem might not be magic... it might be how much they’re falling for each other.

About the Author

Avery Arujo is the pen name of a neurodivergent, painfully shy, and proudly introverted writer who has finally decided to dip her toes into the chaotic world of self-publishing.

Though she’s been quietly writing for years (mostly through anonymous fanfic and enthusiastic encouragement for other writers) this marks her first official foray into paranormal-romance-mysteries. (ParaRoMystery?) It was the quiet days of the COVID pandemic, the persistent voices of the Moonridge characters in her head, and the gentle (okay, sometimes pushy) insistence of family and friends that nudged her toward publishing.

Avery lives in the northern U.S., where it’s cold more often than not, with two opinionated dogs, and a significant other who is equal parts grumpy and lovely. When she’s not writing, you’ll find her watching trashy reality TV or reading with a blanket, a cup of coffee, and at least one pet trying to prove that they are more interesting than her book.

 

Contact Links

Website

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Amazon

Beautiful Darkness 3 Teaser #rabtbooktours

 

Horror, various subgenres

Publication Date: October 30, 2024

Publisher: Dragon Soul Press

 

 

Ghosts, demons, and more monsters.

In a world where so many dark things go bump in the night, terror awaits around every corner as these authors take horror stories to the next level. Discover ghosts, demons, and your worst nightmares. Read at your own risk.

Featuring twenty-nine stories by Joshua Williams, Stephen A. Roddewig, Joseph Hirsch, Max Blood, Paul Lonardo, Matt Spencer, S.J. Walker, Kelly Barker, Gregory Scott Matics, Gaetan Battaglia, Fred Phillips, Cassandra Jones, Barend Nieuwstraten III, Sean E. Britten, Larry Hodges, Donalee Moulton, Arlo Z. Graves, C.L. Hart, Robb T. White, Kelly Piner, Benjamin Curt Unsworth, Trixie Nisbet, Jennifer Papillo, Justin Jones, Diana Parrilla, Jared Thomason, J.M. Bengtsson, Caleb James K., and J.E. Feldman.

 

Full Cold Moon

 

Story Genre: Shifters, werewolf

 

Wolf shifter Roza Van Rompaye awakens in a basement filled with Christmas decorations with a silver manacle around her ankle. Her captor spiked her drink with silver nitrate, and now he wants her to be his mate and to turn him. Roza isn’t about to do either. She warns her captor that he will die if she is still a prisoner when the full cold moon rises.

 

Excerpt

 

No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t get free of the chains I was bound in.

“You’d better hope they hold when the full moon comes out, you silly shit,” I snarled.

The cadaverous young man with the watery green eyes, blemished face, and greasy disconnected fuchsia pompadour presented me with a rectangular box wrapped in metallic celadon paper.

“I don't want presents from you,” I snapped, turning away. “If you think holding a woman captive on Christmas Eve is seduction, I guarantee you'll die a virgin. Gavril Kuroki, president of GrassHopper Green Construction and renowned seducer of both men and women, would be horrified to learn his son was holding his favorite architectural consultant prisoner in a dungeon that looks like Santa's elves got hammered and puked all over the walls while he tries to win her affections with cheesy lingerie. What the hell is wrong with you, Yair?”

“Roza, please, just look,” Yair insisted. He eagerly unwrapped the box, revealing a silky puce nightgown. “I’m not trying to turn you into a sexual object, and I’d never force myself on you. I know you’re not like those easy women who ride the cock carousel any chance they get. This negligee is elegant and ladylike, like you.”

“I’ll never be the fawning captive princess of your pathetic fantasies.”

“My love, it pains me to keep you prisoner, but until you accept me as your alpha, I must.”

“Being chained to a concrete wall in a windowless basement stuffed with Christmas decorations like a holiday goose full of apples and bread pains me. This plot to make me fall in love with you by forcing a full-blown English Christmas on me is insane. We’re in Cresval, South Dakota, for Krampus’ sake, not jolly old London town. I’m the thirty-five-year-old spawn of a Dutch-American agnostic farmer, not the demure daughter of flipping Bob Cratchit.”

About the Author

C. L. Hart is an editor who writes or a writer who edits. She primarily writes Lovecraftian fantasy and horror with the occasional sweet romance thrown in to upset the cosmic apple cart. This is her second year participating in the annual For the Love of Winter anthology from First Coast Romance Writers. She is a member of ACES Editing Society, The Denver Horror Collective, First Coast Romance Writers, The H. P. Lovecraft Historical Society, Passionate Ink (writing as Lil DeVille), Regency Romance Writers, and Rocky Mountain Romance Writers.

 

Author Links

 

Purchase Today

Fangs, Fur, and the Single Girl

 

New Release!

Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl

By Lisabet Sarai

Paranormal Polyamory, Urban Fantasy

71,000 words, 257 pages

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9798224674015

ASIN: ‎‎B0CXF755SM‎

Hashtags/Keywords

#Shifter #Vampire #UrbanFantasy #Menage #Polyamory #LoveTriangle #Werewolf #Alpha #NewYork #BloodDrinker #ParanormalRomance #EroticRomance

Blurb

A tragically attractive vampire, a hunky wolf-man and a skeptical but susceptible career gal. What could possibly go wrong?

Bianca Sorenson understands obsession. Her phenomenally successful Vamp magazine feeds the popular fascination with the undead. The city is full of fanatics who want to believe vampires are real. Bianca knows that’s a fantasy. Then a blond, blue-eyed blood drinker walks into her office looking for a model’s job and turns her universe upside down. Jim Bush hasn’t been a vampire for long, but his terrible history and seductive hunger undermine Bianca’s single-minded ambition and her cherished self-control.

Trying to escape from Jim’s disturbing influence, she collides with a shaggy giant of a man whose mere presence inspires irresistible lust. When Zack Kane reveals that he’s a wolf shifter and claims Bianca as his mate, she finds herself on the horns of a supernatural dilemma. How can she resolve her feelings for her two mutually hostile lovers while defusing a city-wide conflict between the vampire clique and the werewolf pack?

Fans of Twilight: get ready for a wilder ride than you ever imagined!

Excerpt

The blond vampire reached over to her dressing table to pick up a leather-bound notebook. “It’s lucky you use a physical day planner instead of a calendar app.” He sighed again, apparently out of habit. “I admit, I came looking for you tonight. I was desperate to see you. I thought we should discuss—well, I’ll be honest, I was weak. I imagined that perhaps we could—I kept remembering your warmth, your scent…” He shook his head as his voice trailed off. “It’s so easy to deceive myself. To let the hunger think for me.”

“Oh, Jim!” She bounced off the bed and enfolded him in her arms. Though his skin was like cool marble, fire sizzled through her at the contact. A steady pulse beat between her legs. An ache grew in her chest, an echo of his pain. She could soothe him, heal him, if only he’d allow it. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, silently urging him to surrender.

For a fraction of a second, she felt his answering passion. Then he turned his head away to break the connection.

“Don’t. Please. Don’t tempt me, Bianca.” Extricating himself from her clutches, he pinned her with his gaze. His normally blue eyes deepened to wells of blackness. “Stay away from vampires, for your own safety. Away from me, and definitely away from that harpy at the club.”

“How did you arrange for the police? Did they really have a warrant?”

Jim’s embarrassment was obvious. “It seems I have some ability to plant ideas in the minds of suggestible individuals. I didn’t realize I had that kind of power, but when I saw that creature—Elena? —messing with your thoughts, I figured I had to try.”

“Well, I’m very grateful. I probably should have known better than to accept her invitation in the first place.”

Jim rose from his chair and began to pace. “I agree. You took a grave risk.”

Bianca slumped back down on the bed, her eyes following his back-and-forth progress. “But she’s a business associate. Elena Lazarescu’s a major force in the vampire ecosystem. She’s a wizard at branding. Just think about how many potential subscribers she could deliver…”

He whirled to face her. “Bianca! Just listen to yourself! ‘Vampire ecosystem’? ‘Wizard at branding’? After you came close to being Elena’s victim! Didn’t you see what was going on at her club? Pathetic humans being drained to feed her blood hunger and that of her clique. This isn’t about business or marketing, fashion or fads.”

“But—”

“Your readers live in a fantasy world, but vampires are real. And they’re not trendy, romantic or sexy. They’re monsters, driven by an insatiable craving they’ll do anything to satisfy.” The young man glared at her, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m a monster, Bianca—no matter how I try to fool myself.”

She was on her feet again, hand on his arm. “No, Jim—you’re not like her. You’d never hurt me.”

He yanked himself from her grasp. “I already have, don’t you see? This bond between us—”

“So you feel it, too…”

“It’s the blood, Bianca, the blood we’ve shared. Nothing more. And it will destroy us both if we let it.”

Soul Mates (Plural)

The notion of finding one’s soul mate—the one individual in the universe whom you’re destined to love—is possibly the most fundamental romance trope. I can understand the appeal of this concept. It’s both reassuring and thrilling to imagine a lover perfectly attuned to your needs, your ideal complement and companion, a person who makes you whole and vice versa.

I find it hard to write stories about soul mates, though. I’m always aware that reality is much messier than romantic fantasy. Mostly I create contemporary stories where the relationships are realistically complicated. My heroines are frequently unsure about their own feelings. Sometimes they’re attracted to more than one person, in different ways. That’s one reason my back list contains so many ménage tales, I think, to save my heroines from having to choose whom they should love!

Paranormal romance frees me from the constraints of realism. In a world infused with magic, I can suspend disbelief about forever-after perfect matings. Magic imposes structure and symmetry on the tale. Perfect love may be kindled by enchantment, or may reflect age-old connections. Old souls, old lovers, may meet again in a new life. A quest, a struggle against evil forces, may bind two characters together for eternity.

In paranormal erotic romance, you can recognize your soul mate by the transcendent and irrational lust he inspires. The author doesn’t need to explain the attraction; it’s magic, a given.

What happens, though, when more than one character feels like the One? That’s the situation in my new paranormal erotic romance Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl. My heroine Bianca is a hard-headed businesswoman, supremely self-controlled and immune to flights of fancy. When she succumbs to temptation and offers her blood to an emotionally wounded vampire, though, she finds herself bound to him, both physically and psychically. Meanwhile, she encounters a shy but potent wolf shifter whose scent overwhelms her with desire. Each of them wants to claim her. Each of them feels “right”.

Is it possible to have more than one soul mate? Read Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl and find out!

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1508-fangs-fur-and-the-single-girl/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CXF755SM

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CXF755SM

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1540924

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fangs-fur-and-the-single-girl-lisabet-sarai/1145179250?ean=2940167695276

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/fangs-fur-and-the-single-girl

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6480071026

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/210320373-fangs-fur-and-the-single-girl

Add on Bookbub - https://www.bookbub.com/books/fangs-fur-and-the-single-girl-by-lisabet-sarai

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

In The Midnight Hour Giveaway and Guest Post #SilverDaggerTours

 

Werewolf Queen wasn't on her middle aged bingo card... 

In the Midnight Hour

A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 3

by Lori Handeland

Genre: Paranormal Women's Fiction

Just when I thought it was safe to go home…

I’ve been running too long. I’d gotten sloppy. Sloppy gets you captured. But it turns out, the very one I thought I had to hide from, saved me.

I just want to live peacefully. But happy family, er, pack reunions don’t seem to be in my future. When my secret is used against me, I’m forced to run again. This time, help comes from the most unexpected source, the greatest werewolf hunter of all time, Edward Mandenauer.

To get what we both want—the end of the sadistic, yet sexy, werewolf Zane—Edward and I join forces. But Zane isn’t working alone. Nor is he who or what he says he is. He’s much, much more…

All I want is the life I believed I’d lost, but at this rate, I’ll end up captured, imprisoned, enslaved . . . or dead.

From the voice of New York Times bestselling author Lori Handeland, the final installment in the Midnight Madness trilogy takes you deep into her Nightcreature world, complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced plot lines the author is known for while showcasing her incredible range.

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

 I strolled down the deserted streets of Wisconsin’s capital city and tried to think of a plan. I could only come up with one.

The first person I saw getting out of a car was in the employee lot of a twenty-four-hour diner. I approached her, and she smiled. I was an older woman, nonthreatening, no danger. I felt bad about what I was about to do, but I did it anyway, smiling back as I touched my fingertips to my temple. “Give me your car keys, then go to work.”

She repeated my instructions, handed over her keys, and reached into the midnight-blue Hyundai SUV for her purse.

“Leave it.”

Sadly, my borrowed pockets held nothing but lint. Should have thought ahead and asked my daughter for some cash—though like most Gen Zers, she rarely had any. But what difference did stealing make on top of grand theft auto?

At the next gas station, I used the woman’s cell phone—no password, shame on her—to search for the Leonard farm, then scribbled the address on a stray receipt. I tossed her phone into a sewer grate before heading inside where I bought a burner, then asked for a map of Wisconsin.

“You could just get this one.” The clerk pointed to a more expensive phone. “Then you could GPS it.”

I’d have to connect to my personal provider for that. And the entire point of tossing my own phone days ago, as well as tossing the phone of the waitress I’d robbed just now, was so Gideon couldn’t find me.

I shook my head. “Maps?”

The guy pointed to a revolving wire carousel hidden behind a display of energy drinks, which contained maps of Wisconsin and the surrounding states.

“I don’t know the last time anyone bought one of these.” The clerk scanned the barcode. “I hope it doesn’t send you down a road to nowhere.”

I wasn’t worried. The roads of northern Wisconsin didn’t change much. The Department of Transportation spent its budget on the byways that got the most use, for instance, the ones that went into and out of big cities or those that went into and out of the state. Considering those restored Victorians, Viroqua had been there since the mid-to-late 1800s, which meant the roads surrounding it had been there that long as well with only baseline maintenance and little to no rerouting.

In less than two hours, I turned off a highway that had been mostly deserted and rattled down the rutted gravel driveway that led to the Leonard farm. The moon’s silvery glow had been dulled to pewter by a sky filled with clouds. I still heard the moon singing, but her voice had waned, night by night, since she’d been full. According to every werewolf I knew, that music would grow louder as she waxed from new to full.

The just-sprung buds of corn in the fields fluttered, their shade a muted moss shrouded in ice, while the mud in the barnyard recalled a cup of espresso, the puddles undulating like a raven’s wing. In that vista of sepia, the white clapboard house and outbuildings shone pearlescent.

The night held its breath, but all I heard were the clicks of a cooling engine and the beginnings of a breeze. Shouldn’t there be the lowing of cows? Shouldn’t there be cows? Shouldn’t there be someone waking up to deal with the cows?

The porch steps creaked like those in a Gothic novel. I’d read quite a few once I’d discovered that Gothic lit became popular during the Victorian period. I’d been partial to Dracula. Kind of hilarious now.

I lifted my hand to knock, and the door screeched open. Maybe not so hilarious. If there were werewolves, were there vampires?

“Bloody hell.” I bit my tongue to stem the hysterical laughter that bubbled up over my choice of curse words. “Hello? Anyone home?”

As I didn’t want to be shot for trespassing, I remained perched on the threshold. Then it occurred to me that while that might hurt, it probably wouldn’t kill me because the chances of a dairy farmer in Viroqua packing silver cartridges were slim to none.

I stepped inside. “I have information about Natalie.”

I’d thought of little else during the two-hour drive, but what could I tell the Leonards that wouldn’t get them wiped out by a werewolf for knowing it? All I had were two truths and a lie—she’d been kidnapped by sex traffickers, then killed. And me? I was with the FBI task force handling the case.

I’d believed it when Ash said it; I hoped the Leonards would believe it when I did. If not, I’d have to push them to do so, as well as to keep the news to themselves. Didn’t need any real FBI agents following up.

Not a great plan, but I had to work with what I had.

I listened for the sounds of someone getting out of bed, opening a door, flushing a toilet. All I heard was another creak. I wished I had a gun, but my fangs and my teeth and my inability to die except by silver were pretty good weapons.

However, I was here to tell the Leonard family a partial truth. I wasn’t going to be able to do that if I was a wolf. And I wanted to tell them, needed to. There were many, many girls who weren’t coming home. Many, many families who would never know where they’d gone or what had happened to them. This girl I could do something about.

I took a breath to call out again, and the door slammed behind me. I would have blamed the wind if not for the gun barrel pressed to the base of my skull. I went very still.

“I told you I’d kill you the next time I saw you.”

Blame It On Midnight

A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 2

I saved my daughter. But how do I save myself?

I did what I had to. Try and kill my girl? I will end you faster than you can say have mercy. Sure I broke a cardinal pack rule, which will get me executed by my mate. If they find out. If they find me.

Saved from capture by Zane, the sexiest of sexy werewolves, my rescue comes with a price. Zane wants a favor, one that could cause an all-out pack war. The last thing I need is to make more enemies, but lives are at stake if I don’t make a stand.

Not only that, but I have a secret. An impossible secret that is going to turn the entire werewolf world upside down.

From the voice of New York Times bestselling author Lori Handeland, a new volume in her Nightcreature world, complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced plot lines she is known for while showcasing the author’s incredible range.

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

 “You’re my wife,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

“My mate. Same thing.”

“You said it wasn’t the same. That humans marry and wolves mate.”

“Mating is deeper, more.” A growl rippled the air. My air, and he wasn’t even in my air. “Until death, which is a very long time in our world.”

I’d allowed this, embraced this to save my girl, but now I needed to save not only Gideon, but also the pack that had come to feel like family far too fast.

“I’m sorry, but we need to do whatever we have to do to undo this.” I waved a finger back and forth between us.

“There is no undoing it.”

“I don’t believe you.” And with that, I disconnected the call, powered down, yanked out the SIM card, and dropped both it and the phone into the tropical fish tank Patrick had given to Frankie one Christmas.

“Sarah! What the hell?” Frankie stood in the entryway from the hall.

“I’ll buy you another one.”

He waved a hand as if to chase a fly. “Heir? Mates? Pack?”

“You were eavesdropping?” I had waited for the sound of a door closing, but what I hadn’t done was check to make sure that Frankie was behind it. Silly me.

“You sound like a lunatic.”

“Feel like one too.”

Frankie shoved his fingers through his hair, mussing it more than I’d ever seen it mussed. “He’s Jenna’s dad?”

I nodded.

“Did Patrick know?”

Since Patrick and I had never had sex—surprised he hadn’t shared that . . . “Of course.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. I wasn’t supposed to share this, but there was a lot I wasn’t supposed to do that I’d already done. “There’s another world that lives beneath the moon. One that howls. One that kills.”

“You really believe that.” It wasn’t a question. “What else?”

I told him. All of it. Why not? I could always make him forget.

When I got to the part about Ash, Frankie held up a hand. “The FBI sent a werewolf hunter.”

“Apparently, certain cases are routed to them.”

“To the . . . what was it? Jager-Suchers?”

“Hunter-searchers. When you called your contact and said Jenna was missing, that contact called Ash, who’d been trying to find other missing girls.”

His niece, Haley, being one of them.

“I don’t know an Ash.” Frankie rubbed his temple. “Do I?”

“I made you forget. I didn’t want you searching for him or calling anyone who might.” And I should have stuck with that plan, but the ship had sailed.

“And where is he now?”

Chained in a dungeon somewhere awaiting execution. I’d tried to find out where but—

“Don’t have a clue.”

Frankie glanced at the door. “We should probably go.”

“Where?”

“Psych hospital.”

I laughed so hard I had to bend over to catch my breath.

“You finished?” he asked when I had. “Were you experimenting with psychedelics? Weird mushrooms? Bad food? Did someone slip you a mickey?”

“I don’t think that’s what they call it anymore.” Though what they called it I had no idea. “You believe I’m crazy.”

“As a shithouse rat. No offense.”

I snorted; I’d heard worse on the campaign trail. “And Gideon?”

“Who’s Gideon?”

“Guy on your phone.”

“Ah. The alpha.” He twisted the title into an insult, and annoyance trilled along my spine. “Shared delusion?”

“What about these?” I pointed at my formerly gingham-blue eyes, now a lovely royal cerulean.

He frowned; he hadn’t noticed them. Maybe because I had turned off all the lights.

“Tinted contacts.”

Except I wasn’t wearing any, but why bother? He was going to see what he wanted to see, it was the way of humans when what they saw was impossible.

I strode for the door.

Frankie hurried to keep up. “I’ll call ahead, talk to someone I know at the—” He peered into the fish tank, where all the pretty fishies flitted around his phone like it was a brand-new fish toy. “Crap.”

“Guess it’s show-and-tell time,” I said. “Or maybe tell, then show.”

Why I didn’t just zap his memory—again—I wasn’t sure. Perhaps a nagging concern that doing so too many times might give him a brain bleed. Or maybe I just needed someone to know. Someone who wasn’t part of this frightening new world I’d been thrust into. Still, telling Frankie had been a dumb idea. All about what I needed, what I wanted. Selfish.

“Hold on. Let me . . .” He glanced around, lost as a millennial without a cell phone. Or a landline.

I set my hand on the doorknob. “Don’t worry. I won’t tear out your throat.” I yanked open the door.

The wolf on the porch lifted his lip, and a snarl curled free.

“But he might.”

Nothing Good Happens After Midnight

A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 1

They say a mother will do anything for her child . . . I’m living proof

This nightmare began when I got the call every parent dreads. My daughter, Jenna, was missing from her college campus. Of course, my mind went to the worst place. After all, my late husband was a powerful senator. Was this some political payback?

I call in a favor and soon I’m partnered with an FBI sex trafficking agent. He tells me local girls have been disappearing for some time now, and he finally has a lead. But what we find at that abandoned warehouse is something out of a horror movie.

Werewolves! Two rival packs, their alphas fighting, winner take all––the pack and the trafficked girls. The werewolves must replenish their breeders, recently decimated by a virus that killed only the females.

But Jenna’s been keeping a secret, which only makes two of us. Though I should be angry, I know the lies I’ve told play a huge role in why we’re here. I’ll do anything to make it right. No way is my girl going to become a sacrificial mate for the greater good––even if she is the ‘chosen one.’ So, I do what any mother would do, I take her place, offering myself to Gideon, the winning alpha, as his mate.

Gideon’s goal is to live in harmony with the human world, but there are others who exist for the power, for the violence, and they don’t plan to let peace prevail.

There’s a civil werewolf war brewing and I am right in the middle of it.

From the voice of New York Times bestselling author Lori Handeland, a new volume in her Nightcreature world, complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced plot lines she is known for while showcasing the author’s incredible range.

Amazon * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

When the phone rings in the middle of the night, everything changes.

Mother always said: Nothing good happens after midnight. I’d found in my forty-one years on this earth, in that at least, Mom had been right.

I sat up so fast I jiggled the mattress. I froze, my gaze shifting to, then away from the empty side of the bed. I still hadn’t gotten used to Patrick not being there. Would I ever?

The shrill slice of sound continued to cut through the oh so silent night. I only had one ringtone left on my allowed calls after that indelible hour of midnight, and this was it. My heart rate increased from WTF? to OMG!

“Jenna?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s Cammy.”

I searched my memory for the identity of Cammy, feeling slow, stupid despite the far too rapid rate of my heart.

Spring, same time two years ago, my OB had diagnosed the reason for my newly sluggish brain and sudden ability to fry eggs atop my head as premature menopause.

Look at it this way, you won’t have to worry about getting pregnant for very much longer.

Not that I had for decades. However, having my body betray me like that—basically saying I was old, when I never really got to be young—had stung. It still did.

Cammy’s tentative voice brought me back to the right now. “I’m Jenna’s roommate.”

My skin prickled with heat and a fine sheen of sweat started up at my hairline. “What’s wrong?”

“Jenna hasn’t been here since Tuesday.”

Here being the University of Wisconsin. I’d been so proud when Jenna had decided to go to UW like me. Or like the me I could have been, would have been if not for her.

“Tuesday,” I repeated. “But it’s . . .”

Come on, brain, don’t fail me now!

Thursday! I thought at the same time Cammy said, “Thursday.”

For an instant, I was near ecstatic to have concluded something at the same speed as a millennial. Then I did the math, never my strong suit even before all the brain-fart BS. “That’s two days, and you’re just calling me now?”

“Sometimes she pulls an all-nighter. Stays at the library or goes to a study group. But she lets me know. I didn’t really worry until I called her phone, and it was . . .”

My skin did that prickle again. Jenna’s phone was in Cammy’s hand, obviously, since she was talking to me on it. That I hadn’t asked why earlier put another notch in my losin’ it belt.

“Her phone was in her backpack,” Cammy continued. “In her room, along with her laptop and her books.”

Cammy paused, waiting for me to fill in the blanks. Jenna probably wouldn’t be studying without her backpack, and the notes and books and computer within. But even if she’d grabbed a few things and left the rest, she never would have left her cell phone. I didn’t think it had been out of her sight—more accurately, out of her hand—since I’d handed it to her when she was ten.

“In Lunar Lake, anywhere can be reached from anywhere in a handful of minutes,” Patrick had argued. “Even if she falls off her bike and breaks her leg, someone’s gonna be at her side quicker than she can make a call. She’s safer than safe, like every other kid in town. What are you worried about?”

When I lifted my eyebrows, he’d blinked, said, “Oh,” and that had been the last Patrick had said about that. He knew why I was the way I was better than anyone. It was one of the reasons I’d married him.

I’d devoted my life to raising Jenna. She was everything. The only thing. When she’d gone to college, I’d been proud but also terrified. This exact scenario—a midnight phone call, a missing child—played through my mind far too often. Sadly, what I should do about it had never played through as well.

“Hello?” Cammy’s worried voice broke into my thoughts. She probably thought I’d fainted. Or stroked out. I was tempted.

But all Jenna had was me now, and all I had was her. If that meant facing my greatest fear again, I’d face it. What choice did I have?

She was my baby.

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Can you, for those who don't know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?

Hi, I’m Lori Handeland and I always wanted to be an author even while I was studying to be a high school English teacher. (Hey, they have summers off for a reason, right? Besides sanity, that is.) Life intervened and while home with two boys under the age of three, I decided to try writing the book I always wanted to.

That book, SECOND CHANCE, won the Wisconsin Romance Writers Fabulous Five contest and was requested by an editor at Harlequin. Several revisions and submissions and years later, it sold to Dorchester Publishing.

If you knew you'd die tomorrow, how would you spend your last day?

With my grandchildren, doing whatever they wanted to.

What kind of world ruler would you be?

No nonsense. I have no patience for it. Behave or b-bye.

What do you do to unwind and relax?

I go on wonderful writing retreats with my writing friends, where we write all day, drink wine and chat at night. The perfect recharge.

How to find time to write as a parent?

When my boys were small I wrote at 5 am, midnight, whenever (if) they napped. I also exchanged babysitting with other moms so I could have uninterrupted writing time.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

When my first fan letter arrived.

Do you have a favorite movie?

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Which of your novels can you imagine made into a movie?

JUST ONCE. And it almost was. The book was optioned by Catalyst Global Media. I even wrote the screenplay. But as those things go, it did not. I am still submitting my screenplay. It’s done, so why not?

As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

A wolf, of course.

Lori Handeland is a five-time nominee and two-time winner of the prestigious RITA™ Award from Romance Writers of America, as well as the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over sixty novels spanning the genres of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, contemporary romance, historical romance, historical fantasy and women’s fiction. Her novel Just Once received a coveted, starred review from Library Journal and was optioned as a feature film by Catalyst Global Media.

Lori set her sight on being an author at the age of ten. She remembers sitting at a typewriter before she knew how to type, pecking out a story about a family who went into space. As an only child her summers were spent with that typewriter, television, and, above all, books. As a young adult, she got sidetracked by the need to make a living. She worked as a waitress and later enrolled in college to become a teacher.

Lori lives in Southern Wisconsin with her husband of over thirty-five years. In between writing and reading, she enjoys long walks with their rescue mutt, Arnold, and visits from her two grown sons, awesome daughter-in-law and perfectly adorable grandchildren.

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