A Life Through Books

Monday, February 9, 2026

Virtual Book Tour: Killer Friends by Chris Karlsen #giveaway #interview #historical #suspense #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours
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Bloodstone Series #4


Historical Suspense

Date Published: 11-10-2025

Publisher: Books to Go Now




Henrietta Newell stormed into the detective bureau. She claimed her adult son was missing and feared for his safety. The detectives attempted to reassure her that the absence of a bachelor in his thirties, in a city like London, wasn’t extraordinary. Despite their efforts, she insisted an investigation be conducted, reminding them of her political connections.

Detective Rudyard Bloodstone and his partner were told to look into the matter. Their investigation reveals evidence of suspicious and unusual activity but no clues regarding the man’s disappearance. The few leads they develop take them from the world of wealthy families and into the secret society of sexual peculiarities.

The detectives discover the victim didn’t simply disappear. He was murdered. They have the evidence except for one problem, they’re missing is the victim’s body.




Interview

What is the hardest part of writing your books?

My Bloodstone series is set in Victorian London. The protagonist is Rudyard Bloodstone who is a detective with the London Metropolitan Police Department. The stories take place in the late 1800’s, before police had the advantages of science. The use of fingerprint comparisons didn’t begin until the middle of the 1890’s. There were no blood lab results or DNA labs. I have to have the detectives find evidence and clues by other means.

The other issues that are part of writing anything historical is use of phrases and certain words. I must consistently consider the time and place so I don’t use an Americanism, or modern phrase.


What are your most played songs?

Time to Say Goodbye, Nights in White Satin, Paint it Black, Unchained Melody, The Way We Were, and most anything from Saturday Night Fever.

 

Do you have critique partners or beta readers?

I have two critique partners and a couple of Beta readers.

 

What book are you reading now?

The Bookseller of Inverness by S.G. Maclean

 

How did you start your writing career?

My mom was a voracious reader and she instilled that love of books in me. I’d read a story or see a movie and think how I’d make it different. I had this story in my head for many years. After I retired, I decided to write it. I began reading articles on writing and taking classes. I went to conferences and workshops when possible. It took a few years before I found a publisher but once I did, I haven’t stopped.

 

Tell us about your next release.

I just released the fourth book in my Bloodstone series. It is called Killer Friends and is loosely based on an actual case a homicide detective friend of mine worked.

I am currently starting on book 5 in the Bloodstone series, which will include a female private detective. 


About the Author


I was born and raised in Chicago. My father was a history professor and my mother was, and is, a voracious reader. I grew up with a love of history and books.

My parents also love traveling, a passion they passed onto me. I wanted to see the places I read about, see the land and monuments from the time periods that fascinated me. I’ve had the good fortune to travel extensively throughout Europe, the Near East, and North Africa.

I am a retired police detective. I spent twenty-five years in law enforcement with two different agencies. My desire to write came in my early teens. After I retired, I decided to pursue that dream.

I’m currently working on the Bloodstone Series, which is historical suspense stories set in Victorian London. I’ve also written two World War 2 romances: The Ack Ack Girl and Moonlight Serenade.

My past series include my historical/time travel romance series is called, Knights in Time. My romantic thriller series is Dangerous Waters.

Each series has a different setting and some cross time periods, which I find fun to write.

I currently live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband and three wild and crazy rescue dogs.

 

Contact Links

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Purchase Links

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RABT Book Tours & PR
Reading Time:
Teaser: The Wolf Experiment by Laura Daleo #urbanfantasy #fantasy #excerpt #teaser #rabtbooktours @AutLauraDaleo @RABTBookTours
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Urban Fantasy / Werewolf
Date Published: 01-23-2026

 


 In Doford Peaks, a small mountain town, 19-year-old Ethan lives with his grandma. His life is quite normal, at least as normal as it can be for someone with asthma. A winter morning walk turns dramatic when he and his grandma discover an 18-year-old girl, Mia, who is unconscious and injured. As Mia recovers, bits of her past emerge, attracting agents Gibson and Cooper of the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation (BSI). A complex web of secrets associated with the Defense Forces of Genesis (DFOG) intertwines their fates. As the truth emerges, Ethan and Mia must face the horrifying reality of The Wolf Experiment.



 

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

A whimper pulled me from my sleep, and my eyelids fluttered open. Gracie’s snout was right in front of me, her light gray fur softly brushing against my cheek. As her pale blue eyes looked into mine, her tail began to wag. There was no way I was getting up, and I rolled over to the other side of my bed, where Hank stood waiting. He fixed his golden eyes on me, his pure white fur seeming darker in the dim light of my bedroom. Sunlight filtered through the two large skylights above my bed, casting a warm light over my room. The rays continued to spread across posters of my favorite bands, my world map marked with where I wanted to visit, my only plant that I hadn’t killed, and my high school guitar leaning against my bookcase. My wolves whimpered again, signaling it was time to get up. Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, it read 6:00 a.m.
I pulled the covers over my head and tried to fall back asleep, but that didn’t work out well. My wolves howled as they jumped onto my king-sized bed. Sitting up, I shook off the sleepiness and raised my open palms toward Hank. “We’re bros, Hank. Help me out here. It’s too early. Can’t you and Gracie give me a little more time?”
Hank reacted by leaping off my bed, sprinting into the hallway, and then vanishing. Gracie fixed her fierce gaze on me, but I avoided her eyes. The sound of Hank’s paws tapping against the floor broke the silence as he charged back into my room, his leash clamped in his mouth.
I shook my head in frustration, tossed aside my covers, and walked into the bathroom. They followed closely behind me. “At the very least, let me take a quick shower before we go for a walk.”
I didn’t let either of them protest with a bark, howl, or whine and stepped into the shower. Turning on the hot water, my wolves settled onto the cool porcelain tile of the bathroom, their eyes on me, waiting. My thoughts drifted back to one year ago when I discovered the abandoned wolf puppies on my way home from the local store. They huddled together on the roadside, trembling and shaking, too young to be without their mother. Their bodies were mere skin and bones, and they had that look in their eyes that they were ready to give up. I tucked them into my jacket and rushed home, fully aware that my grandma would not be pleased with my impulsive decision, but I had to save them.
My grandma’s eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the little bundles of fur sticking out from my jacket as I walked in the door. “Ethan, did you bring wolves into my house?” She let out a deep sigh and was definitely annoyed, but as she noticed their desperate state, her disapproval began to fade. She quickly ushered me and the puppies into her clinic and examined them thoroughly. “I’m a physician, not a veterinarian,” she said, “but these puppies are severely dehydrated and malnourished. I can give them fluids, and you need to buy puppy milk replacement from the feed store. Let Walter know they are wolf pups and about four weeks old. He will know what to give you.”

Gracie’s and Hank’s urgent barks jolted me into the present and forced me to quickly finish my shower. Staring at myself in the double mirrors over the bathroom vanity, I saw bits of my grandma in me. We both had curly, caramel brown hair, although hers had strands of gray. The left corner of our smiles was slightly crooked, a trait that ran in the family. Our hazel eyes had more green than brown, and while she stood at 5'6" and weighed 125 pounds, I was taller at 5'10" and weighed 165 pounds.
She was a tough, 66-year-old woman with a strong personality who never remarried after my grandfather passed away. I never knew him. He died before I was born. Grandma, being the town’s physician and surgeon, was accustomed to interacting with people and found comfort in those conversations. As for me—I was a loner and found socializing to be a challenge. I preferred the company of animals over people. Hank and Gracie were my best friends. All I truly needed was their companionship, along with my grandma’s, of course.
When I was five, my parents left me at my grandma’s house. That was fourteen years ago. We lived in Doford Peaks, a small mountain town in the state of Oakridge, with a population of around 1,200. With winter fully upon us, I dressed in utility pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and my winter boots to prepare for the cold. I also dressed Hank and Gracie in their waterproof winter coats and booties. Along with my down jacket, I grabbed a beanie and gloves. I stuffed my cell phone, inhaler, and compass into my pants pockets. With Gracie’s and Hank’s leashes in hand, I left my bedroom and dropped my jacket, beanie, and gloves on the entryway table.
Hank and Gracie followed me into our rustic kitchen, with exposed wooden beams and oak cabinets. Grandma particularly loved the large windows that allowed natural light to stream across the stone-tiled floor and the breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains. She was seated at the antique wooden table in the center of the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee. Grabbing a granola bar and a bottle of water, I breathed in the rich aroma of French roast. “Morning, Grandma. You’re up early.”
“Ethan, good morning. A slight emergency brought me into the clinic.” She sipped her coffee and continued, “LuAnn fell on the ice and sliced her hand open. She needed several stitches.” Grinning, she said, “She asked about you.”
“Please stop with the matchmaking.”
“She’s intelligent and attractive, much like you.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to date her.”
“It doesn’t mean you have to date her. But what’s the harm in having a casual cup of coffee?”
“Being single works for me. Plus, I wouldn’t know how to talk to her, and I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea. Can we change the subject?”
She placed her coffee mug on the counter. “Fine. Are you going out for a walk with your wolf pack?”
I scratched Gracie and Hank behind their ears. “As much as I wanted to sleep in, they insisted I get up and take them for a walk.”
Her gaze drifted to one of the large windows, where snowflakes were gently falling outside. Turning her attention back to me, she asked, “Do you have your inhaler?”
I patted my pocket. “Yes, Grandma.”
“What about your cell phone?”
“I have that too.”
“Since it’s snowing, you should definitely take a jacket, and—”
My chin bobbed toward the door as I interrupted her. “I have a jacket, a beanie, and gloves.”
“Hmm. What about water or a snack?”
I groaned and replied, “Grandma, I’m 19. I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.”
A protective expression crossed her face as she placed her hand on her hip. “Ethan, no matter how old you get, in my eyes, you’ll always be my precious grandson.”
A sigh escaped my lips, and I shrugged my shoulders. “Do you want to just come with me?”
Her hazel eyes brightened with a smile as she waved a finger at me. “That’s a great idea,” she said. “I’ll get my coat.”
Grandma came back wearing a down jacket. She was bundled up in winter clothing. A scarf was wrapped around her neck, and gloves covered her hands while she tucked her hair beneath the hood of her jacket. She grabbed a bottle of water from the cupboard and tucked it into her jacket pocket. Then she reached for Gracie’s leash. “Gracie can come with me.”
“Gracie is definitely easier to control than Hank. He tends to pull a lot, especially when he catches a scent.” I handed her Gracie’s leash.
“That’s true!” she said with a smile. “I’m ready. It’s beautiful right now. The sun is breaking through the clouds, the snow is falling, and the air smells of pine cones. What more could we ask for?”
“You sound like a greeting card, Grandma.”
A chuckle escaped her lips. “I do, don’t I?” She opened the solid wood door and replied, “After you.”
Wood siding wrapped around my grandma’s single-story home. The deep green roof blended into the surrounding trees, and the many windows let in tons of light, which my grandma loved. I led Hank through the doorway and onto the wraparound deck. We made our way down the stairs and onto the cement driveway. Continuing down the sloped driveway, we passed Grandma’s clinic, a smaller replica of the main house. Glen’s truck had cleared the road of snow. At 70, he was still going strong as the owner of a snowplow truck company. His silver hair was often dusted with snow, mirroring the bushy eyebrows that framed his kind, gray-blue eyes. Every time I saw him, he was wearing a flannel shirt, a heavy jacket, jeans, and boots. Maybe they were his favorites or maybe it was his uniform, but at least he was consistent.
We walked along the towering pine trees, now filled with snow, lining both sides of the road. The crisp, cool air stung my cheeks, so I pulled my beanie down as far as possible and still be able to see. Hank and Gracie strolled alongside us, their noses in the air, sniffing at whatever scents they could find.
Grandma asked, “Would you like to talk about the letter your parents sent?”
“I don’t,” I abruptly replied.
“I think we ought to talk about it,” she insisted.
I looked at her, hoping my expression conveyed my hurt, frustration, and exhaustion. “Grandma, I love you. I know my dad is your son, and I don’t mean any disrespect, but they handed me off to you fourteen years ago. Mom and Dad haven’t visited me for any occasion—birthdays, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. They ghosted me! I couldn’t care less about their stupid letters.”
“I understand where you’re coming from,” she sympathized. “Although I don’t support the choice they made, I know it was very tough for them to leave you in my care, and I can only imagine how confusing this all is for you. I don’t know what your letter said, but in my letter, they reiterated their continued search for a cure for asthma. Their letter made it very clear that they’re doing everything possible to help you live a healthier, happier life. I hope you know how much both your parents love you.”
“Researching for fourteen years, Grandma?” I exclaimed, my voice filled with exasperation. “I’m sure even you don’t even believe that.”
“I know they love you.”
“If they truly loved me, they would have been present in my life instead of concentrating on scientific research. My parents didn’t want a flawed son.”
Her hand touched mine as she paused. “Ethan, you can’t possibly believe that.”
“Regardless of what I believe, the fact remains that I have asthma, and I manage it. You stood beside me, not my parents. They’ve been absent most of my life. Even if they returned now, I probably wouldn’t want to see them. I’m sorry, Grandma.” I softened my tone. “My anger is directed at them, not you, and I’m just not ready to forgive them.”
She hugged me tight and reassured me. “Ethan, I will always be here for you.”
In her arms, emotions surged within me, and tears threatened to fall. Hank and Gracie surrounded me, nuzzling their furry heads against my body in an attempt to comfort me. As I pulled away, I admitted, “Talking about them doesn’t help. It only makes matters worse.”
“I understand how you feel. Everything is going to be okay, I promise. Let’s continue our morning walk with Hank and Gracie and enjoy the day together.”
Relieved, I nodded, and we continued down the road. Hank and Gracie glanced back at me occasionally to ensure I was okay. As we walked, the various smells around us began to capture their attention more than my presence. They trotted happily alongside me, their snouts pressed to the pavement, wagging their tails as they sniffed every tree.
“It’s chilly today,” Grandma said and shivered and then glanced at me. “How are you feeling? Any shortness of breath?”
“So far, so good, but I agree it’s super cold. Maybe we can cut our walk short.”
“Good idea, and I agree.”
Hank suddenly stopped, raised his nose, and howled. A few birds scattered from the branches above, startled by his abrupt call. Had he sensed something: an approaching storm or another animal nearby? Gracie’s ears perked up as she lifted her head and let out a softer but equally determined howl. My wolves stood side by side, their eyes scanning the horizon, alert to something I couldn’t see. Hank started tugging on his leash, and I pulled backward. “What is it, Hank?”
“I don’t see anything,” Grandma said, glancing around the area.
I peered between the trees, searching and feeling compelled to understand what Hank and Gracie were sensing. “They definitely smell something. Let’s check.”
“I am not sure if it is safe, Ethan.”
“Grandma, we need to investigate. If it’s an injured animal or more abandoned pups, we can call Marsha and have her send her wildlife team out here.”
“Fair enough.” Grandma nodded.
I released the slack on Hank’s leash and commanded, “Find it!
Hank and Gracie raced ahead, tugging Grandma and me along. Our breaths rose into the air like swirls of smoke. Frost covered the road, crunching beneath our boots as we followed my wolves. As we went down the road, the trees got thicker and thicker, reaching up to the pale sky, casting shadows, and blocking out the sun.
My wolves’ noses skimmed along the damp earth, sniffing. Occasionally, they paused to circle a spot several times before continuing on their determined path with their noses once again on the ground. They sped up and tensed their bodies as they focused on the trail that led us up the hill to a cliff that looked like the entrance to a cave.
Despite the cold, beads of sweat formed on my forehead, and a tightness spread across my chest. The familiar constriction gripped my lungs the higher we climbed. I couldn't wait any longer. I needed my medicine. Fumbling in my pocket, I reached for my inhaler. I could feel Grandma’s eyes fixed on me as I struggled to breathe.
Grandma’s voice was tense as she ordered, “Stop and use your inhaler. You’re having trouble breathing.”
“Hank is pulling me too hard. I can take a puff while I’m moving.”
“Nonsense,” Grandma said, taking Hank’s leash from me and bringing both Hank and Gracie to a halt. The wolves howled in protest. “There, now they’ve stopped. Please, Ethan, use your inhaler right now, and I mean it.”
I didn’t argue and put my inhaler in my mouth, pressed the button, releasing the medication, and breathed deeply. After a few seconds of inhaling and exhaling, the pressure lessened, and I put my inhaler back in my pocket. Gradually, the tightness in my chest vanished.
“Better?”
I nodded.
“I can’t risk your health for Hank and Gracie to chase down some scent. We need to turn back.”
“No, Grandma! I’m fine. If there’s an animal in trouble, we need to save it. I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t keep going.”
Her lips formed a thin line, and her brow furrowed with disapproval. Grandma knew that Hank and Gracie were not just my pets. They knew me better than any human. They were part of our family. I felt a deep responsibility to protect all animals, and my grandma knew that.
Again, I begged, “Please, Grandma.”
After several minutes of hesitation, she finally responded, “We’ll proceed, but if you have another episode, we’re finished.” She handed Hank’s leash back to me.
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
She huffed and waved me forward.
After hiking up the hill, we arrived at the cave, its dark entrance framed by jagged rocks. A thick fog floated within the darkness, reminding me of dry ice. I had my doubts about going inside. The cave floor could be unstable or wild animals could be hiding inside. And what if the air was thin and stale and triggered my asthma? But Hank and Gracie were insistent, pulling on their leashes to get closer.
Peering into the cave, Grandma asked, “Did you bring a flashlight?”
“No, I didn’t,” I replied, my eyes widening as a thought struck me. “I can use the app on my phone.”
When I pulled my phone out of my pocket, Hank leapt forward, yanking his leash from my grip. Gracie followed suit, breaking free from Grandma’s hand and racing after Hank. I switched on the flashlight app, flooding the cave with light. The beam flickered across dirt and jagged rocks. I pointed it upward, and Hank and Gracie running down a narrow passageway fell into view. The musty stench and distant sounds of water dripping grew stronger as we followed them.
“They must have found the source,” Grandma said, matching my pace.
My heart raced as fear tightened in my throat at the thought of something harming my wolves. “I’m freaking out,” I blurted, trying to keep my phone steady with trembling hands. I had no idea what this cave contained, whether it was safe, or what Hank and Gracie had stumbled upon. They never disobeyed me. Maybe Grandma was right about turning back.
“They’ll be fine. They’re strong creatures. Just try not to worry.”
“I’m trying not to.”
Hank barked sharply, his call signaling to me that he needed me. I rushed blindly into the cave, adrenaline coursing through me. The sound of Grandma’s boots brushing against the cave floor echoed behind me as she ran.
The flashlight beam caught something ahead, but the darkness obscured my view. Upon closer inspection, I saw Hank and Gracie circling something on the ground. Slowing down, I hoped it wasn’t an injured animal. As Grandma reached the spot ahead of me, she gasped. I stood still, unable to take another step. “Grandma, what’s going on? What is it?”
As her gaze turned toward me, she said, “Not a what, but a who. It’s a young woman, maybe 18 or 19 years old.”
“What?” I rushed forward, closing the distance to the scene. I halted just behind Grandma, who was kneeling beside an unconscious girl, curled up in a fetal position, wearing a hospital gown. Hank and Gracie stood close by. Her long strawberry blonde hair was a matted, tangled mess hanging over her face. Her pale skin stood out in contrast to the bruises and deep red cuts all over her arms, legs, and especially her bare feet. Pus oozed out of them.
Grandma was in full-on doctor mode, checking the girl’s pulse, listening to her breathing, and examining her numerous wounds. As she assessed the girl’s condition, her eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Jesus,” I whispered. “Is she alive?”
“Her pulse is weak, and her breathing is shallow, but she’s alive,” Grandma confirmed, her focus on the girl. “Her body temperature is low. It could be hypothermia. She’s wearing a wristband, but it’s not from the hospital in town.” She turned to me. “Give me your jacket. She needs to warm up.”
I removed my jacket and handed it to Grandma, who carefully wrapped it around the girl.
“We need to get her out of here and to my clinic immediately,” Grandma urged. “We can’t carry her, and I need my medical van. You’ll need to keep a close watch on her while I go get the van. Be prepared that you may have to perform CPR if her heart stops.”
My jaw dropped slowly as the weight of responsibility washed over me, sending a wave of anxiety coursing through my body. The thought of performing lifesaving measures on someone was terrifying. What if I screwed up? “I’m your bookkeeper. This is beyond my capabilities,” I said, gesturing toward the girl. “I can’t help her.”
“You can handle this. Besides, we’ve trained many times on all emergency procedures.”
The cave felt as if it were closing in around me. Memories of Grandma’s first aid lessons flooded my mind, each one a jumbled mess of instructions and distant recollections. I shook my head firmly. “No, I can’t do it. What if she wakes up and sees some guy standing over her? You know I’m not comfortable with people. She’ll probably freak out. Just let me go get the van, and you stay here.”
Grandma looked at me, as if weighing my suggestion, but her expression remained firm. “I understand your hesitation, but she needs medical treatment immediately. You’ll have to run to the house, Ethan. I can’t risk you having an asthma attack. It’s better if I go.”
The thought of being alone with an unconscious stranger filled me with anxiety. What if I made a mistake and ended up making things worse instead of better? What if her injuries worsened, and I wasn’t able to save her? Every rational part of me screamed at me to let Grandma handle it. I had to be the one to get the van. “I’ve hiked trails many times—maybe not up a mountain, but I’ve covered long distances without an episode. Plus, I have my inhaler. Please let me get the van, Grandma.”
She studied me for several minutes, probably envisioning various scenarios and their likely outcomes. After sighing, she relented. “All right. The keys to my van are in my office in the top drawer on the right side of my desk at the clinic, not my home office.”
I nodded and turned to leave but quickly faced Grandma again. My gaze shifted to Hank and Gracie. Instead of coming with me, they remained by the girl’s side. My brows furrowed in confusion. Why had they tracked her in the first place, and why were they so protective of her? Was it her injuries? The blood? The situation? It didn’t make sense.
“Ethan, what’s wrong?” Grandma asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I glanced at her before shifting my focus back to my wolves. “Hank and Gracie,” I said. “It’s odd how they’re behaving. They don’t even know this girl that they’re trying so hard to protect.”
“We can figure that out later. Right now, we need to get this girl to my clinic.” She waved me away. “Go now and hurry back. Stay safe.”
“I will.” I cast one final glance at Hank and Gracie before hurrying out of the cave.


About the Author

 

 Laura Daleo is an accomplished multi-genre author known for weaving captivating tales across dark fantasy, urban fantasy, supernatural/paranormal, sci-fi, and young adult fiction. Her acclaimed Immortal Kiss series showcases her unique take on vampiric lore, reimagining the origins of vampires through the lens of the Egyptian pantheon. Originally from San Diego, California, Laura now calls Tucson, Arizona home, where she shares her life with her two beloved dogs, Rose and Cooper.

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Friday, February 6, 2026

Book Blitz: Serial Overkill by Kelley Barks-Baker #mystery #lgbtq #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours
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Mystery, LGBTQ Mystery

Date Published: February 27, 2024



A small community has a killer with a gruesome vendetta in this darkly humorous LGBTQ+ mystery, featuring a group of tight-knit investigators whose lives are as complex as the murderer they’re chasing.

When a serial killer terrorizes their town, Doc, Switch, Saphine, and Lauren are hot on the trail—despite pushback from local law enforcement. But while they work to solve the crimes before more lives are lost, the detectives have to handle personal problems and repair trust with found family in order to even have a chance at solving the murders.

Soon, however, the group learns how the past affects relationships and their ability to serve justice. Will they find motive behind the violent crimes? Or are some mysteries never meant to be solved?

Serial Overkill is a suspense-filled, character-driven whodunit drama that will have readers chasing answers until the bitter end.

 


About the Author


Kelley Barks-Baker has a bachelor's degree in criminal justice administration. She enjoys reading and vacationing on the beach.

Barks-Baker currently resides with Cape Girardeau, Missouri with her family.

 

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Virtual Book Tour: Accused Again by Michael J. Kundu #thriller #mystery #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours
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The Michael Fletcher Series, Book 2


Mystery / Thriller

Date Published: December 11, 2024

Publisher: MindStir Media



The Michael Fletcher Series: A Riveting Legal Thriller Saga

Book 2: Accused Again - Freedom Was Just the Beginning

Michael Fletcher thought his nightmare was over. After spending decades behind bars for a crime he didn't commit, he was finally free. But just as he begins to rebuild his life, the unthinkable happens-he's accused of murder again.

With the justice system poised to condemn him once more, Michael finds himself at the center of a gripping courtroom battle. As he fights to clear his name, an unexpected ally from his past emerges, offering to help him untangle a sinister web of lies and corruption. This time, the stakes are higher than ever-will Michael prove his innocence, or will he be lost to the system once again?

From award-winning author Michael J. Kundu, The Michael Fletcher Series is a gripping psychological and legal thriller saga exploring the unyielding quest for truth, justice, and redemption.

Perfect for fans of John Grisham, Scott Turow, and Michael Connelly.

      • High-stakes legal drama
      • Powerful themes of injustice, resilience, and redemption
      • A thought-provoking journey through the flaws of the justice system

Start the series today and join Michael Fletcher in his fight for truth!

 



About the Author


Michael J. Kundu was born in London, Great Britain, in 1969 to an Indian father and a German mother. He has lived in various places in Europe. His love for reading has prompted him to write this book giving this crime novel more than an edge of mystery and suspense, but also a contemporary perspective on life.

He has a great passion for learning languages and travelling across the globe. He enjoys spending time with his family and lives in Luxembourg with his Italian wife and two teenage children.

My multinational background, coupled with my marriage to someone of a different nationality, has endowed me with a wealth of diverse experiences. Having traversed the globe, speaking multiple languages and immersing myself in various cultures, the profound value of each individual has become a cornerstone of my worldview. These multicultural encounters have not only fostered a deep appreciation for the uniqueness of every person but have also instilled in me a commitment to promoting mutual respect, free from the shackles of prejudice related to color or religion. In composing my book, these experiences have permeated not only this narrative …but also the forthcoming sequel.


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Thursday, February 5, 2026

Cover Reveal: The Helmsman of Anthesis by Lee Hodiak #comingsoon #coverreveal #bookcover #historicalfiction #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours
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Historical Fiction

Date Published: March 12th

Publisher: Acorn Publishing


William Sukara, a gregarious dreamer, emerges from the 1950s an estranged son. In divorce debt and with limited visitation rights as a father, he searches for order in failure. Pursuing self-discipline as an answer, he enlists in the Navy, volunteers for underwater demolition team training, and survives the elite course.

With five other team members, he raises his hand for a clandestine mission, knowing only that it's a “hundred day operation in a warm climate." They are led by a mysterious civilian who alludes that their authorization comes from the Oval Office, and they are to operate with extreme malice. They revolt, escaping under bizarre circumstances.


The Helmsman of Anthesis is a raw, close to the nerve, psychological thriller about a mission gone wantonly mad.

 

About the Author

At age twenty, Lee Hodiak joined the Navy and spent most of his enlistment attached to Underwater Demolition Team 12. After serving, he joined the San Diego Police Department but realized he needed to follow his passion for wilderness travel and adventure instead. He went on to backpack the Baja California Peninsula, built a thirty-six-foot sloop, and lived in Australia for twenty years.
Now a resident of Central California, Lee enjoys birdwatching and living by the ocean. Sixty years in the making, The Helmsman of Anthesis is his debut novel.



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Wednesday, February 4, 2026

Cover Reveal: Who Will Name the Bees? by Sarah Church Vosburgh #comingsoon #bookcover #coverreveal #memoir #nonfiction #rabtbooktours @SCVosburgh @RABTBookTours
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Memoir

Date Published: April 22nd

Publisher: Acorn Publishing


When memory fades, what remains?

 

Sarah Vosburgh has often felt misunderstood by her mother, a woman who lived a quintessential suburban life. But when her mother is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, Sarah’s world unravels, and she must confront a disease that will only worsen. As roles reverse between mother and daughter, Sarah faces the guilt of making decisions she hopes are the right ones while also carrying the grief of losing her mom bit by bit everyday. She navigates a labyrinth of health services amid the heartbreaking, and at times darkly humorous, realities of caregiving.

There are the white lies and midnight phone calls, the misbuttoned blouses, and the second slice of chocolate pie that tastes just as good as it did the first time. And then there’s the quiet awe at the persistence of connection even when language falters and names are forgotten.


Told in finely wrought prose and lyrical fragments of memory, Who Will Name the Bees? is a daughter's unflinching love letter to the flawed, fierce, and unforgettable woman who raised her.

 

About the Author

It was never in Sarah Vosburgh’s plan to be an author or to write a memoir. As a busy mom, wife, and psychologist, she always saw her life as full (sometimes overfull). But in the dark of night, memories knocked on her brain, compelling her to commit them first to paper, then to bits and bytes.
Sarah is a member of the International Memoir Writers Association and San Diego Writers, Ink. Her work has been published in A Year in Ink and numerous volumes of Shaking the Tree: brazen. short. memoir. A native New Englander, she now lives in San Diego with her husband, her daughter, her granddog, and a most extraordinary feline.

 

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Teaser: Vengeful Fire by Mikala Ash #darkfantasy #fantasy #paranormal #excerpt #comingsoon #rabtbooktours @ash_mikala @RABTBookTours
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Dark Fantasy / Paranormal Romance

Date Published: February 6, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



Heat rages out of control as the pub burns. The only thing hotter is the woman watching the flames.

Diana Kendall just had an argument with the owner of Cornwall’s pub. Now Cornwall’s is burning to the ground. Diana’s an enigma, an artist, beautiful and intelligent, but strangely aloof. How can Mike resist? But when he wakes up the next morning, Diana’s gone.

It’s not until Mike sees a naked woman disappear into an art gallery with a wolf at her side that the real trouble starts. The woman looks incredibly like Diana. But what is the mysterious apparition trying to tell him?

Mike needs to find out what’s really going. Does Diana’s fiery past tell the story, or will he get burnt by Vengeful Fire?

 


Excerpt

Copyright ©2026 Mikala Ash

As he watched the flames, Mike wondered if Prometheus had known what he was doing when he stole fire from the gods and turned it over to mankind. Humans had been nothing but trouble ever since.

The alcohol fueled flames consuming Cornwall’s Pub were hypnotic -- mesmerizing and beautiful. They writhed in an almost sensual way. No, Mike corrected himself. The flames were sensual -- the rhythmic way the tongues of fire bent and unbent were undoubtedly sexual, as if they were alive, pyrrhic creatures in the throes of orgasm, riding the stiff wooden beams that fueled their passion. There was even a sense of playful capriciousness about the sound of splintering beams, which created a staccato beat cheekily mimicking the act -- the fucking act, the act of fucking.

Mike thought there was even something sexual about the words that described fire. Tongues of flame that licked, seething cauldrons of searing molten heat, glowing embers pulsing white hot, bursting explosions of showering sparks, inflamed… His mental thesaurus eventually failed him and he settled in to enjoy the show.

Several roof beams collapsed with a whoosh. Sparks showered the street and plumes of acrid smoke belched out of the roiling flames.

Mike looked forward to the climax of the act, when the last sinews of structure that held the roof aloft would melt, bend and break as the building collapsed completely into the smoldering debris of orgasm.

Moments later there was another explosion, no doubt the last of the bottles of bourbon, gin and scotch that had lined the mirrored bar. The firecracker bangs brought a cheer from the fickle crowd, who twenty minutes earlier had been drinking and singing within the Cornwall’s convivial walls. The crowd, Mike thought, were like jilted lovers who laughed self-consciously at the misfortunes of an unfaithful ex-partner.

Adrenaline still pumped madly through Mike’s veins as if he’d just come inside the cock-melting pussy of some stranger. He had reason. He’d been the one who’d shouted the alarm causing these rats to desert the sinking ship. Not one, he noted, had stayed to fight the hungry flames. No one had been loyal and true, though they’d drunk there, as he had, for the last several years. Ten minutes after the final climax of this act of consuming passion they’d likely be drinking at someone else’s bar. He felt unaccountably guilty, like the concerned friend who had to break the news of an infidelity. Knowing that what he did would have ramifications beyond a simple busted relationship. A step once taken…

Across from him, in the semicircle of voyeurs, stood a dark-haired girl, tall and lithe. He remembered her from earlier in the night. She was a stranger to the bar, a newbie, attractive enough to stop conversation… at least on the men’s parts and, he recalled, some of the girls too.

The pulsating conflagration illuminated her pensive face. She had striking features; high cheekbones, full lips, large dark eyes and long straight ebony hair that reached her waist. She seemed strangely familiar but he couldn’t place her. She wasn’t someone overtly famous, someone who was always in your face like a movie star. More likely she was a lingerie model or perhaps he’d seen her in a TV commercial.

His interest in her had been heightened, of course, by the ruckus she’d caused. An argument with the manager of the place, that stuck up prick Cornwall himself.

There followed a brief, angry exchange with the bouncer who’d been instructed to escort her furious body off the premises. Mike had left his seat to go to her assistance but she’d been too quickly ejected and by the time he’d reached the street she’d gone.

She’d returned an hour or so later, just before he raised the alarm about the fire. He noticed she’d come in the side door that led from the alley. Her serious and cunning expression reminded him of a jilted lover who can’t resist sneaking into the ex’s bedroom. The scene of so many orgasms; where so much cum had been ejaculated, spilled, and swallowed. Just once more to lie on the sodden sheets of love.

Mike made a decision and moved between the drunken observers and stood beside her. Amazingly, despite the choking, plastic laden smoke that swirled around them, she smelled of… oranges.

“Hi there,” he said.

“Do I know you?”

She hadn’t looked at him. Her eyes were fixed on the firefighters, those modern knights with watery lances who battled the angry chimera; the mindless fire-breathing beast.

“No. I saw you earlier when you had a row with that prick Cornwall.”

“So?”

“I really don’t think you should be standing here. The fire chief will tell the police that the fire was deliberately lit. The police will then interview the staff and they’ll describe you and they’ll see you here watching the place burn down. Not a good look.”

She turned to face him then, dark eyes sizing him up. The rippling flames were reflected in them and he found himself lost in those glowing embers, looking for his silhouette.

“What do you have in mind?”

Infidelity, a sweet, sweet friend. “The smoke has made me thirsty. I know a bar across town that’s not so… hot.”

Her full lips curled into a smile. One last look at the inferno and a shrug as if it didn’t matter anymore. The deed was done. “Lead the way.”

Mike took her arm in his and pulled her gently through the swelling crowd, now ten deep. The Cornwall had been popular and would, no doubt because of its prime location, be rebuilt and open for business within six months. Bigger and better, like a whore returning to her favorite corner after a boob job.

The Glass Half Full was a pretentious little dive frequented by philosophy students. Mike liked it. Some of the regulars even knew his name. She gave it an appraising glance through the frosted windows before nodding and following him in.

“What do you do?” she asked once settled on a high stool at a round pedestal table.

Mike couldn’t help but notice how her full breasts rested on the tabletop. “Webpage designer. And you?”

“Student. Art.”

“I guessed it.”

“And how did you do that?” she said tiredly.

He lowered his eyes to her hands. “Paint on your fingertips.”

She laughed and the pure tones resonated playfully in his ears. “I could be a house painter.”

“Interior design?” he countered.

“Renaissance art.”

“Ah, ceilings. Just as good. Forgive me, but I may not know art but I…”

“… yeah, yeah, don’t say it.”

He took a sip of his beer but couldn’t take his eyes off her. He felt strangely comfortable being with her. No nerves at all, which was unusual, given the circumstances. He was, after all, sitting with a stunningly beautiful woman who he desperately wanted to fuck.

Usually, whenever he was alone with a new girl, he had butterflies the size of eagles flying out of formation in his stomach. “I was in the art gallery just the other day,” he said suddenly to fill the silence. “And I realized the thing about reality is that it’s, in fact, an illusion.”

He shuddered inside. What an incredibly stupid passé thing to say. She’d think him a pretentious prat, which was precisely what he was at that very moment.

She lent toward him, unaccountably interested. “How so?”

“Well, meaningless rays of light enter our eyes and excite some neurons. Neuro-chemicals jump across synapses. These excite more neurons. A pulse of electrical current travels to the next synapse and so on until eventually our brain sorts them into some sort of matrix we can consciously interpret.”

Her nod of interest urged him on. “But it’s an illusion, something our brains make up. It’s all a fiction. There are gaps, things we don’t see, because of lighting or perspective. Our brain fills in those gaps with assumptions and pre-conceived ideas. We see what we expect to see. Due to our common brain structure and culture we fill the gaps the same way and the result is we all share the same illusion.”

She licked her bottom lip and for a moment he lost his train of thought.

“Like a mass hallucination?” she prompted.

He nodded, grateful for her lifeline. “Something like that. I know it’s been said before. It’s hardly an original thought, but it struck me there in the gallery and for the first time I knew what it meant. There was this painting…”

“How unusual to find one of those in there.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously in the Glass’s dim lighting.

He smiled back. He knew she wasn’t being sarcastic, only getting into the spirit of the absurd that seemed to have fallen about him this evening. He actually liked her. “That’s what I thought,” he said, joining in the fun. “This particular painting was just a mass and swirl of fine lines in blue ink. The title of the painting was “Stand Back,” so I did. And the lines resolved themselves into a face. It was the artist resting her head on her forearm while she drew her own face while looking at a mirror. It was quite brilliant, but it showed me that reality is perception, excuse the cliché. That an alien being seeing that painting, having not seen anything else from Earth, would just see some fine lines in blue ink.”

“And apart from the face, what else did you see that an alien would not have?”

“Emotions are hard to judge.”

“Try.”

He put on an aristocratic English accent. “It’s like looking at paintings from the eighteenth century, don’t you know.”

He saw her lips tighten as she suppressed her laughter. “I don’t.”

“I can see what they have painted -- that shared human knowledge again. But not what’s going on within the minds of the people depicted even though they’re only a few hundred years in the past… because their world view is completely different from ours… they’re an enigma.”

“The girl in blue ink,” she said slowly. “Is she an enigma?”

 

About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.


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