A Life Through Books

Date Published: 08-16-2025

Publisher: Solander Press

One afternoon, A.J. returned home from school to find a surprise waiting for him in the barn - a beautiful little horse named Lady Star. She was now his to ride and care for. From that day on, A.J. spent all his free time learning how to ride Lady Star and caring for her. He dreamed of being skilled enough to ride alongside his grandfather, father, and Jon, the farm hand, during the cattle roundups.

Award-winning author Sherry Roberts weaves a heartfelt story about growing up in the 1930s and 1940s. Based on the tales passed down by her father, Just Call Me Pardner is a must-read for history lovers and those who enjoy stories of the American West. 

About the Author

As a former middle school teacher, Dr. Roberts decided to write her first middle-grade novel (ages 8-13). Her debut novel, The Galaxy According to CeCe, is the first book in a three-book series. It was officially released on February 24, 2024. Book two, The Galaxy According to Cece: The Mysterious Dr. Pruitt, was released August 2024. Book three, The Galaxy According to Cece: The Stars Align, released February 2025.

Sherry’s next venture is a chapter book series (ages 6-8). The first book, Just Call Me Pardner, was released August 1, 2025. The series is about a young boy in the 1930s on a small farm in Northeastern Oklahoma and is inspired by stories of her father’s childhood in the 1930s. Book 2, Just Look at Those Boots, launches in early 2026, with Book 3, Just Don’t Give a Girl a Frog, launching in November 2026.

Dr. Roberts has also written many articles that appear in various academic journals, along with three textbooks. Personal Financial Literacy is in its fourth edition (Pearson). She is an associate professor of Marketing in Jones College of Business at Middle Tennessee State University.

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Christian Devotional, Inspirational Personal Testimonies

Date Published: 11-15-2025

Publisher: Acorn Book Services

All royalties from this devotional book will be donated to the building fund for Oakland Community Church's new building. Oakland's goal is to design a biophilic building that takes advantage of the beauty of our Jefferson County location.

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Publisher: Changeling Press

Shelby Morgen -- Troll’s Blog: Perfect skin, dusted a light powder blue. Bright burgundy Mohawk. 6’4”. Dark blue uniform. Big shiny gun. Yeah. I’m the Troll under the bridge. But if you’re reading my blog, you know that. That’s why I call it Troll’s Blog. Duh. But I digress. This story isn’t about me. Not exactly. It’s about my blog. And Sam. And another one of Sam’s great ideas. You’re gonna love it. Really.

Lena Austin -- Ugly Duckling: Jean-Paul, incubus editor for Bedtime Stories Press has been assigned a new author. Dominick may be a fantastic author, but when he gets aroused, the situation gets ugly. Literally. Jean-Paul is sure he can handle Dom. Maybe…

Anne Kane -- Pixie’s Playmates: “While the story had an engaging quality, I feel that the flavor of the sex was too vanilla for Bedtime Stories Press.” When Bedtime Stories Press review coordinator Pixie calls the reviewer into the office she finds out “B.J. Smith” is really two very drool-worthy males who want to demonstrate their toys. What’s a pixie to do?

Marteeka Karland -- Shut Up! As official kitty of the Bar and Grille for the Bedtime Stories readers and authors, Callie has the last say in everything she does and with everyone in her vicinity. Then Troll makes a proclamation that could very well get someone killed. Anyone who can get the last word in on Callie gets to have his way with her in bed. It’s a proposition Eli can’t refuse. Callie’s about to get all the loving from Eli she can stand. If she can just shut up.

Note: Bedtime Stories in no way represents any actual publishing company. Any resemblance to the staff and authors of Changeling Press is purely coincidental.

That’s our story and we’re sticking to it.

Copyright ©2026

I was so wrapped up watching the '50s vintage Harley coming toward me I didn't even notice he wasn't registering on my screen. As in 1950s. Well over a hundred years old, and still on the road. That machine was really flying. Well, no. Not really flying. That's an old euphemism for moving. Speeding.

God knows what he'd put in the tank. Probably running on moonshine. Nothing legal'd have it cranking like that. The sound of that motor purring down the road toward me had my blood heating up. I closed my eyes for a moment, ready to breathe in the scent of ancient exhaust.

Then it hit me. Sigh. No. Not literally hit me. My brain engaged -- enough to see the century-old motorcycle was not registering on my vid panel. Nothing. Flying completely under the radar. And he wasn't slowing down. In fact, the closer he got, the farther he laid himself out along that tank. Rider and cycle shot past me in one long black blur that had my mouth watering -- and my hand on my gun. He might be sexy as hell, all black leather stretched out long and lean over that tank, but nobody -- and I mean nobody -- runs the gate on my watch.

Alarms and sirens went off, and lights flashed down the next mile of bi-way, warning the felon that he'd best slow down and pull over before the Toll Collector caught up with him.

Not that he slowed in the least. In fact, I'd have bet a month's salary he gunned it about then.

Fine. If that's the way he wanted to play it, the chase was on.

Damn, but that view looked even better from behind.

I shook my head as I jumped into my patrol pod, a three-wheeled Flitter that was airborne at a safe hover of a half-meter or so by the time I got my Mohawk crammed into the cockpit and the door slammed shut. What the fuck was he thinking, trying to outrun a Toll Collector?

The bridge itself is a long, straight shot of highway with equally long approaches, spanning just under two kilometers of unquiet waters. This isn't just any bridge they've entrusted to me. No. It's the Golden Gate, linking Old San Francisco to Marin Co., California. One of the longest bridges in the world. One of the few still in constant operation. Sure, a lot of people use Flitters these days, rather than ground vehicles, but Flitters aren't exactly safe hovering over rough water, and the bay's never calm. So unless you've got a full pilot's license, and something jet propelled, if you're going south, you've got to pass over my bridge.

And pay my toll. Which this asshole had elected not to do.

I'm not exactly an inexperienced pilot. I know my bridge like she was my baby. She's 2.7 kilometers, from abutment to abutment, laid out straight and true as an arrow shot from a master's bow. We crossed her in just under one minute, and if I hadn't been so pissed off, I'd have been scared shitless.

Yeah, even a Troll can experience fear. Doesn't happen often, I'll admit, but chasing that leather-clad backside across that bridge through sheering winds high above some of the roughest, coldest water this side of hell at 200 KPH is more of a thrill than even a Troll is used to.

I could tell, too, from the way he hugged that tank, that he was really getting off on the chase. Every time the wind hit him he'd roll his shoulders, leaning back into it like he was riding a lover. He glanced back at me once, facemask lifted enough for me to see him grin. I'd bet my pension he had a boner the size of his ego. When I caught this idiot of a Human he was going to get a piece of a little more than my mind. I might even resort to police brutality -- before I friggin' killed him.

No Human scares a Troll and gets away with it.

Anne Kane: Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue dog whose breed defies description and an Aussie Shepherd who’s too smart for her own good. Anne likes to write spicy stories with sassy heroines and protective, sexy male heroes who love those women. Her stories all have one thing in common: a happily ever after ending.

Lena Austin: Someone cursed Lena Austin with "may you have a life so full you'll have many tales to tell your grandchildren." Lena's a "fallen" society wench with a checkered past. She's been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba -- she's got a lifetime of "Research material!"

Marteeka Karland: International bestselling author Marteeka Karland leads a double life as an action romance writer by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending.

Shelby Morgen: Shelby Morgen loves writing offbeat tales that defy as many rules as possible.

She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex, and she’s always had a hard time keeping murder, motorcycles, science fiction, fantasy and paranormal from mixing with her kink.

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Date Published: Feb 24, 2026

Publisher: Small Circles Press

“It’s the universe, Ivy Leigh, welcoming in a little change.” Mr. Winters, her neighbor, a wannabe cowboy, tells her one day. But change is so confusing. When a pair of bullies taunt her on the bus and tease her at school, Ivy makes a giant mistake.

With a mix of humor and poignant moments and a quirky cast of neighbors and friends, Ivy finds a way to understand herself and make up for that mistake she’s made. Best of all, Ivy remembers Momma: Feelings are like fireflies caught in a jar, Ivy Leigh. They belong in the open, where a warm breeze can carry them away!

 Gael Lynch is a writer and storyteller, a teacher whose love of kids and furry creatures has followed her throughout her life. She now lives in coastal Carolina, a place of sunny beaches and warm breezes with her husband Tom and her rambunctious golden retriever, Wrigley. However, Newtown, Connecticut, with its pastoral beauty and kind-hearted people will always be a place she calls home.

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Date Published: October 21, 2025

If you ask 100 readers what this story is about, you may receive 100 different answers—and that is exactly the point.

My Guardian Angel is a deeply moving short story about true love in its many forms, inspired by real life, real relationships, and real emotions. At its core, this story is a tribute to unwavering devotion between a husband and wife—and to the quiet strength that sustains us when life hangs in the balance.

Graham, a Vietnam veteran whose greatest joys are his wife and their beloved dogs, begins what seems like an ordinary day wrapped in comfort and routine. But in a sudden and devastating turn, he finds himself fighting for his life. As danger closes in, it is his wife—his lifelong “Guardian Angel”—who stands between him and the unthinkable.

Set largely within the stark stillness of a hospital, the story unfolds as friends rally, time seems to pause, and love becomes both shield and salvation. Through moments of fear, hope, memory, and faith, My Guardian Angel explores how love endures even when life is fragile—and how the bonds we build may be stronger than fate itself.

Though classified as fiction, more than 60% of this story is drawn directly from the author’s life and experiences. Every word comes from the heart—there is no AI-generated content, no shock value, and no explicit language. This is a story written for readers of all ages who believe in love, kindness, and the quiet courage found in everyday relationships.

✨ Themes Readers Will Connect With:

● Hope in the face of mortality

● Gratitude, humility, and resilience

● Faith, belief, and emotional connection

● Stories that inspire children and adults alike

My Guardian Angel does not tell readers what true love is—it invites them to discover what it means through the lens of their own lives.

If you are looking for a heartfelt, gentle, and profoundly human story—one that lingers long after the final page—this book offers a reminder that love, in all its forms, is life’s greatest gift.

Adam Chase is a Vietnam veteran, lifelong entrepreneur, and late-in-life fiction writer whose stories are rooted in lived experience, gratitude, and enduring love. At 79 years old, Adam brings a lifetime of resilience, humility, and heart to his writing—qualities shaped by military service, decades as a self-employed corporate consultant, and his journey as a business owner and mentor.

In 2016, Adam and his wife purchased a failing plumbing company despite having no prior plumbing experience. Through discipline, integrity, and a tireless work ethic forged during his Vietnam service, they transformed the business into the number-one contractor in their county. In January 2025, they sold the company to two trusted key employees—continuing to work alongside them, unpaid, ensuring the next generation’s success. Adam is widely regarded as the county’s “go-to” backflow tester and is respected for consistently placing recognition on his team rather than himself.

For over thirty years, Adam worked as a self-employed corporate consultant, a career that allowed him and his wife to travel the world. One of his most unforgettable experiences was visiting the only wild panda sanctuary in the Southern Mountains of China, where he held a mother panda and her cub—an encounter that deepened his appreciation for life, connection, and wonder.

Later in life, Adam faced significant health challenges, including skin cancer, macular degeneration with geographic atrophy, and ocular rosacea. Rather than slowing him down, these challenges fuel his determination to remain mentally and physically engaged each day. His writing emerged not from literary ambition, but from a desire to put feelings, memories, and gratitude into words—especially for children, who he believes need hope, belief, and kindness most.

Adam writes children’s bedtime stories and fiction, including the deeply personal short story My Guardian Angel, which—while categorized as fiction—is largely inspired by his real life, his marriage, and the people he loves most. Despite graduating near the bottom of a class of over 1,000 students and reading almost exclusively non-fiction and business books, Adam’s storytelling resonates because it is honest, heartfelt, and unfiltered.

He does not consider himself an author by profession, but a man sharing his thoughts and feelings with sincerity. Adam credits his single greatest achievement in life as marrying “the woman of his dreams”—the inspiration behind My Guardian Angel. His stories contain no profanity, no adult content, and no artificial intelligence—only his words, his heart, and his lived truth.

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Current Events/Politics

Date Published: September 26, 2025

Publisher: MindStir Media

Inside USAID is an insider's view of some of the sillier aspects of government bureaucracy, revealing the adventurous, often risky life of diplomatic staff posted in third-world countries as well as some of the waste in the system. It also takes readers through some fascinating and dangerous events in the author's own twenty-seven-year career with USAID, peeling the curtain on nearly three decades of diplomatic service across seven countries, sharing war-zone experiences, absurd government acronyms, failed aid attempts, and moments of genuine impact.

The stories balance critical reflection with a deep appreciation for the ideals behind U.S. foreign aid. The book is both a tribute to the unsung heroes of development work and a critique of the system's inefficiencies, political intrusions, and sudden dismantling. It contextualizes the countries historically, politically, and economically, off ering readers a nuanced understanding of how aid shapes (and sometimes fails) entire nations. The book also is both a eulogy and a call to action for rebuilding what the author sees as one of the U.S.'s most effective foreign policy tools.

Witty, wise, and often sobering, Inside USAID is a must-read for policymakers, development professionals, historians, and anyone who wants to understand the real stories behind America's global influence through foreign aid.

Before joining USAID, Brown practiced commercial law for eleven years in Los Angeles as a partner at Ervin, Cohen & Jessup in Beverly Hills, California. He holds a Bachelor’s degree in Economics from Whitman College, where he was also a Thomas Watson Fellow, spending a year conducting independent research in Latin America. He earned his Juris Doctor from UCLA School of Law, where he served as Managing Editor of the UCLA Law Review.

Brown is the author of Dilettante: Tales of How a Small-Town Boy Became a Diplomat Managing U.S. Foreign Assistance (2021), a collection of stories tracing his path from early work on farms, railroads, and tugboats in Eastern Washington to a career in international law and diplomacy. He is retired in Maryland.

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Sanctum Black (#1)

A Razor’s Edge Enemies to Lovers BDSM Erotica Short

Date Published: February 27, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

Mira: Elias Hartmann is a billionaire power player and my biggest professional obstacle. Six months of brutal negotiations turned into six months of tension I refuse to name. Every meeting is a battle. Every look feels like a challenge I shouldn’t want to accept. Then I receive an invitation to Sanctum Black. A private sex club where power, and desire collide. When Elias appears, I should leave. Instead, I let him show me exactly how thin the line is between control and surrender. Outside, we’re enemies fighting for the upper hand. Inside, I give him everything I pretend I don’t crave.

Elias: Mira Calder doesn’t bend. She dismantles. Brilliant, relentless, and impossible to ignore. I wanted her from the first meeting. Not romance. Not dates. I wanted to break her composure and earn her surrender. Sanctum Black gives us rules, boundaries, and privacy with no consequences. Just heat, power, and obsession in a safe, anonymous environment. She’s my equal in the boardroom. In the dark, she’s mine to challenge and claim. Enemies to lovers. High-stakes power play. One mistake neither of us can afford to walk away from untouched.

Mira

The moment I crossed the threshold of my apartment, I kicked off my heels, not caring where they landed. My feet throbbed with the special kind of pain reserved for women who spent twelve hours in Italian leather torture devices, all for the sake of standing eye-to-eye with men who confused height with authority. The negotiation with Elias Hartmann had dragged on until sunset, both of us refusing to yield on key points until our respective teams were practically falling asleep at the table. I’d won this round, but victory felt hollow when measured against the ache behind my eyes.

“Fuck it,” I muttered to no one, dropping my briefcase on the entryway bench. My apartment greeted me with familiar silence, the kind I usually found comforting after days filled with strategic verbal combat. Tonight, though, it felt like just another empty space.

I shrugged off my blazer and hung it with more care than I’d shown my shoes. Six hundred dollars of tailored wool deserved better, even if I couldn’t muster the energy to pick up my heels, which were now scattered across my polished hardwood floor. My blouse came next, the top three buttons already undone during the elevator ride up. Freedom, in small increments.

The wine rack in my kitchen called to me like a beacon. I selected a Cabernet I’d been saving, though I couldn’t remember why. Some mythical special occasion that never materialized. The cork came free with a satisfying pop that echoed in my silent kitchen.

I didn’t bother with a glass at first, taking a generous swig straight from the bottle. Only after that initial hit did I pour properly, the dark liquid swirling as I carried it to my living room. The tension in my neck had transformed into something solid, a concrete weight pressing down on my spine. I rolled my head, feeling vertebrae pop in protest.

Elias fucking Hartmann. The man was infuriating. Brilliant, undoubtedly, but maddening in a way that made me want to either slap him or…

I cut that thought off, unwilling to follow where it led. Six months of negotiations over this acquisition, and the progress we’d made could be measured in millimeters. Every concession was a battle, every clause scrutinized with microscopic closeness.

I raised my wine glass to take a healthy pull. I couldn’t deny the grudging respect I’d developed for my opponent. He had a mind like a steel trap and eyes that missed nothing. Including, I suspected, the way my breath sometimes caught when he leaned too close across the conference table.

I massaged my temples, pressing hard enough to make little starbursts appear behind my closed eyelids. Professional attraction was a complication I didn’t need. Especially not with someone whose corporate ambitions directly opposed my client’s interests.

Something caught my eye as I passed entryway table. A black envelope, sleek and heavy, with a minimalist gold emblem stamped in the corner. I froze, wine glass halfway to my lips. It definitely hadn’t been there this morning.

Setting down my glass, I approached the envelope cautiously, as though it might bite. My building had excellent security, a key consideration when I’d purchased the apartment. Someone placing this here meant either my security had been compromised, or…

I picked it up, feeling the substantial weight of the cardstock. Expensive. The gold emblem caught the light, an ornate “SB” intertwined in a design that managed to suggest both elegance and something darker. No postage, no address. Just my name in metallic ink that gleamed under my fingertips.

I slid my finger under the flap, breaking the wax seal that I hadn’t initially noticed. Inside was a single card of the same heavyweight black stock, text printed in the same gold ink.

To: Ms. Mira Calder

You are cordially invited to Sanctum Black, where discretion meets pleasure without judgment. Your reputation for excellence has been noted by our selection committee. Should you choose to accept, present this invitation at 1158 Blackwood Avenue at 10 PM this evening.

Boundaries respected. Desires fulfilled.

Sanctum Black

Your privacy is our sacred covenant

HW George

Concierge

I turned the card over, looking for more information, but found only the same emblem from the envelope. Sanctum Black. I’d heard whispers about it in certain circles. Sanctum Black was an exclusive club where the elite could shed their public personas. Not exactly a sex club, but definitely not a simple social club either. The kind of place where people went when they wanted experiences they couldn’t get elsewhere, with the absolute certainty that what happened there would never leave its walls.

My analytical mind immediately began dissecting how my name had reached their “selection committee.” Who had recommended me? What did they know about me that made them think I’d be interested? And more importantly, who else might I encounter there?

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!

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