When her world
loses its color, he’s the only one who can help her find the brush again.
Lance
Loving a Lancaster Book 4
by Stacy Eaton
Genre: Contemporary Small-Town Romance
As a Forensic Accountant, Lance Lancaster lives on facts and
the small details that get overlooked. When his firm takes on a new client, and
Aurora Moonshadow enters the room, the facts he lived by and relied on quickly
begin to vanish, leaving him in the unknown territory of protective gemstones
and Navajo folklore.
Aurora Moonshadow believes in signs and living every minute to the fullest.
After her father passes and she takes over the family business, she finds
herself unable to understand the dire situation her father left behind. That is
until Lance arrives to help her. The creativity that has been hidden by grief
quickly emerges after meeting him, and Aurora is on top of the world until her
protective bracelet breaks.
When Aurora goes missing, Lance returns to Sedona and will do just about
anything to help find her. Learning that she started painting again after their
one night together makes Lance even more determined to locate her and bring her
home safe.
Will they be able to find Aurora before everything she loves is destroyed,
including herself? Or will Lance be left with only her final painting?
Lance is the fourth book in the Loving a Lancaster Series.
This series spin-off of the Loving a Winston Series, which spins
off the Loving a Young Series.
Stacy Eaton is a USA Today Bestselling author and began her
writing career in October of 2010. Stacy took early retirement from law
enforcement after over fifteen years of service in 2016 due to a second serious
concussion. Her last three years on the job were in investigations and crime
scene investigation. She now writes full-time.
Stacy resides in southeastern Pennsylvania with her husband,
who works in law enforcement. She has a daughter in college and a son who is
currently serving in the United States Navy.
Stacy writes a variety of genres, but mostly romance. She
enjoys writing real-life stories that people can relate to with real-life
problems, emotions, and solutions.
Her favorites: Classic cars, photography, Disney, music,
coffee, and her favorite sweatshirt that says, You are dangerously close to
getting killed in my next novel.
Historical Fiction/Cold War Fiction w/romance subplots
Date Published: 03-01-2026
Publisher: Bim Bom Books
There are no accidents in life, only opportunities wearing different
clothes."
When the first privately owned Soviet circus arrived in 1990 America as the
Soviet Empire unraveled, its elite performers expected to build cultural
bridges through spectacular shows. Instead, this prestigious troupe faced a
perilous journey through Cold War America.
Circus director Yuri had to navigate treacherous waters where American
mobsters, Soviet agents, and political forces circled like predators. Young
aerialist Anton dreamed of becoming a clown against his family's wishes, while
forbidden romances and unexpected connections bloomed between Soviet
performers and Americans who saw past the ideological divide. As high-stakes
conspiracies threatened to tear the circus family apart, they had to choose
between the authoritarian chains of home and the uncertain promise of freedom.
As The Ringmaster reminds us, "The best Soviet stories are like
vodka—they burn with suffering, intoxicate with conflict, keep you
stewing in reflection, and yearning for your heart's desire." This
genre-bending tale explores whether human connection can transcend
ideology—and whether storytelling can bridge the divides that separate
us.
About the Author
Cliff Lovette is a father, storyteller, and dog lover living in Sandy Springs,
Georgia. For over 40 years, he practiced entertainment law, serving as Senior
Vice President at LaFace Records and representing artists including Usher and
Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes. His passion for bridging historical divides led him to
co-produce a groundbreaking reconciliation event between descendants of
Buffalo Soldiers and Lakota Native Americans. In 1990, when Bobby
Liberman—road manager for the first privately owned Soviet circus
touring America—became his client, Cliff discovered the true story that
inspired this debut duology.
Strange visitors have appeared in Ethel, their clothes and mannerisms jarring
against the familiar rhythm of the coastal town. The woman in Orla and Dave's
spare room speaks in archaic phrases and marvels at electric lights, while the
silent man staying with Molly and Cormac carries a translucent device that
glows with symbols no one recognizes.
As fog rolls in from the sea, bringing with it the now-familiar whispers and
cold spots that signal another haunting, the four friends realize they must
unravel the temporal mystery before them. The clock tower strikes at midnight,
and both past and future hang in the balance.
*Contains mature themes, open door sex scenes, and mature language.
Three years ago, the small town of Ethel, VA, was rocked to
its core when the lighthouse became a beacon for something an-cient and hungry.
Every year since then, we’ve cast a protection spell, tying knots in rope while
visualizing a protective shield, at the weathered tower a week before Samhain,
our voices car-ried away by the salt-tinged wind. This year’s no different.
Cormac’s slender fingers intertwine with mine as we
ap-proach Orla and Dave across the grassy shoreline. We’ve man-aged to mostly
heal from the toxic tendencies of the past—the jealousy, the competition, the
midnight arguments that left scorch marks on the walls. Magical abilities
complementing each other have a tendency to do that, like puzzle pieces finally
finding their fit.
The mid-October sunlight glints off Cormac’s long, blonde
hair, turning each strand into spun gold against the blue sky. We don’t meet
here at night anymore, not since the shadows began to move independently of
their owners. She gently squeezes my hand in reassurance, slight crow’s feet
crinkling around her eyes with a smile that blooms one of my own in return. She
tries to continue her broody exterior by wearing a scuffed leather jacket with
silver buckles, but her face is too full of light these days to continue the
façade.
“It’s about time you two showed up,” Orla says as she wraps
me in a hug, her dark curls tickling my cheek. Her automatic soul-possessing
ability takes hold straight away, a warm honey-like sensation flooding through
my veins. I feel her anxiety—sharp and metallic—and she feels mine. While hers
is about the treacherous events three years ago, mine is about the small
vel-vet box burning a hole in my pocket, holding a moonstone ring for Cormac.
I know she’ll say yes; I hear Orla’s thoughts echo in my
mind like a whisper in an empty room. To assuage her anxiety, I push forward
images of Cormac and me from earlier in the morning. We’d stayed in bed, all
consumed with passionate kisses and bodies moving in rhythmic dance together;
sheets twisted around our ankles, the taste of her still on my lips.
Okay, okay, you’re excused for being late, Orla sends
through the connection, her mental voice tinged with amuse-ment. Then it’s gone
as Dave, tall and broad-shouldered in his flannel-lined jacket, gently pulls
her out of the hug. He com-plements her power as Cormac complements mine, his
deep voice carrying over the crash of waves against the shore.
“Did you actually expect them to be on time?” he asks her,
his breath visible in the chilly air.
Orla looks at me, her eyes sparkling, and we snicker like
schoolgirls sharing a secret.
“Some of us know how to keep a woman in bed,” I goad Dave,
watching his cheeks flush crimson.
Before he can respond, Cormac says, “Guys, I think you
should come over here,” her voice tight with tension.
She’s rounding the other side of the lighthouse, her boots
crunching on the path. I jog over to her, worried she might be in danger, the
wind whipping my hair across my face. Once I’m next to her, I’m struck with
frozen terror, my breath catching in my throat. As Orla and Dave’s footsteps
catch up, I try to count the sleeping bodies sprinkled around the remnants of a
bonfire.
Sprawled across the damp autumn ground lies a peculiar
as-sembly of slumbering figures—some adorned in woolen cloaks and flowing
medieval gowns; others draped in shimmering flapper dresses and tweed vests and
flat caps. The incongruous sight sends a chill down my spine, conjuring
memories of that haunted night years ago when phantoms in pheasant feathers and
tarnished armor materialized from the mist. Could history be repeating itself?
I draw Cormac closer, my fingers tightening protectively around her shoulder. A
bitter wind sweeps through the clearing, rustling crimson leaves and stirring
the strange visitors from their dreams.
“Oh, halloo,” calls a woman with cascading silver-streaked
hair that catches the morning light. Deep laugh lines frame her eyes as she
rises gracefully to her feet, brushing debris from her embroidered skirts. Her
button nose crinkles above heart-shaped lips as she smiles warmly. “I’m Marie.
We weren’t expecting anyone so early.”
“You’re days early for Samhain,” Orla informs her, her voice
carrying across the clearing.
“Samhain!” exclaims a younger woman with stylish curls and
bright eyes. She leaps up, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm, silver
bracelets jingling at her wrists. “I’m Florian. I absolutely adore a proper
shindig.”
Another woman glides forward, her tweed vest firmly hug-ging
her body. She loops her arm possessively around Florian’s slender waist and
extends her other hand, adorned with bangles that glint in the early light.
“Kiersten,” she offers, her voice me-lodic but guarded.
“Molly, and this is Cormac,” I reply, mirroring Kiersten’s
protective gesture by drawing Cormac against my side, feeling her warmth
through her leather jacket.
“Might there be lodgings available in your village?” Marie
inquires, her eyes scanning the distant rooftops visible through the thinning
trees.
“Not anywhere that could accommodate a gathering of this
size,” Dave responds, his weathered hands resting on his leather belt.
A tall woman with anxious eyes approaches Orla hesitantly. A
man with sandy blond hair clutches her trembling arm as she nervously smooths
out her skirt. Dave and I don’t miss her flinch with his touch, juxtaposing
their closeness. It resurfaces memories from when Dave and Orla couldn’t touch.
“Hello, I’m Claudia,” she murmurs, “and may I present Alex?” Her delicate
fingers twist together nervously while Alex soothingly rubs her
goosebump-covered arms.
“Orla and Dave,” Dave announces, nodding curtly. When Alex
extends his hand to Orla, Dave intercedes and shakes his hand, so Orla doesn’t
have to.
“Um, Orla,” Alex interjects, his deep voice surprisingly
gen-tle. “Pardon our intrusion, but might Claudia ask you something rather
personal?”
“Of course, what troubles you?” Orla asks, leaning forward
with interest.
“Do you perceive others’ thoughts when you make physical
contact?” Claudia whispers, her pale cheeks blooming with a rosy flush that
spreads to the tips of her ears.
“Perhaps we should escort this assemblage to our
home-stead,” Dave interrupts, clearing his throat. “We have several spare
rooms. Not sufficient for everyone, but certainly prefera-ble to camping
outside.”
“We’d be eternally grateful,” Marie responds, casting a
con-cerned sideways glance at Claudia’s distressed expression. “A proper rest
would benefit us tremendously after our... unusual journey.”
Ghostly Howls
Ghostly Howls Book 1
Irish folklore meets
small town USA
A heartbroken half banshee, a cockle selling soul possessor, and a town haunted
by mysteries…if they don't find the killer, Orla and Molly might die before
finding their soulmates.
Orla and Dave's love has been unrequited for as long as they can remember.
Cormac and Molly are used to drawing outside the lines. None of them are
prepared for the new ghostly neighbors.
In a town that's always ostracized them, can Molly and Orla finally use their
powers openly in order to save the citizens?
*Contains mature themes, open door sex scenes, and mature language.
*Don't miss the YA series also by Stephanie Hansen - Altered Helix &
Replaced Parts
Stephanie Hansen is a PenCraft and Global Book Award Winning
Author as well as an Imadjinn finalist. Her debut novella series, Altered
Helix, released in 2020. It hit the #1 New Release, #1 Best Seller, and other
top 100 lists on Amazon. It is now being adapted to an animated story for
Tales. Her debut novel, Replaced Parts, released in 2021 through Fire & Ice
YA and Tantor Audio. It has been in a Forbes article, hit Amazon bestseller
lists, and made the Apple young adult coming soon bestsellers list. The second
book in the Transformed Nexus series, Omitted Pieces, released in 2022. Her
debut spicy paranormal romance, Ghostly Howls, released 2023. Her debut
historical magical realism, Armored Hours, released 2024. The Armored Hours
sequel, Guarded Time, released 2025 and the Ghostly Howls sequel, Ghostly
Returns, released 2026. She is a member of the deaf and hard of hearing
community, so she tries to incorporate that into her fiction.
The Earth is compromised and forbidden. The human Imperium
stretches throughout the galaxy. It terraforms planets with indigenous life,
destroying it. An organization fights against these terraforming projects, and
it is pronounced a terrorist organization by the government and the Imperator.
JO WARWICK, the heiress of Warwick Galactic Enterprises, is
on an archeological mission on the forbidden Earth. She contracts an unknown
disease, and her expedition leaves Earth. While in space, the disease kills
everyone on board but her, as she seems protected by an invisible shield.
Captain TOSHI HUNTER and his crew are activists fighting
against the terraformation projects, and after a failed attack on one of these
projects, they are pursued by the imperial ships. The chase goes on, but they
manage to escape.
And by chance, they discover the unmoving, silent ship of Jo
Warwick. They board it and see the massacre inside, but manage to save Jo.
Jo and Toshi begin
their adventure in uncovering the truth and the origin of this mysterious
disease that now threatens the galaxy, while being hunted by the imperial
troops.
What readers are
saying:
“…Prose that is gritty, direct, and sometimes a touch
awkward powers a voyage of grand proportions as a diverse cast, ancient aliens,
sensory worldbuilding, and space battles entertain with thrilling action. In
this quick read, Gurgu reveals the foolishness of humanity, moral dilemmas, the
folly of war, and the hope of second chances in a hearty science fiction
adventure.” _BookLife Review
“…Ultimately, The Cursed delivers the pleasures
of expansive science fiction: big stakes, bigger ideas, and heroes whose
personal journeys matter as much as the fate of the galaxy. Gurgu offers an
energetic, imagination-rich ride that will appeal to readers eager for
adventurous sci-fi drama—and leaves the door open for further exploration among
the stars.” —CANREADS BOOK REVIEW
“Overall, the author has a keen knack for mixing and
melding SF and the supernatural in all kinds of intriguing ways. Clear
allusions to vampirism would be too obvious; Gurgu opts instead for more
obscure archetypes: When was the last time one read about a wendigo in outer
space? A fast-paced and fun adventure beyond the stars.” - _Kirk’s Reviews
The archeology team was busy and noisy inside the Bats Cave. The huge
boulders blocking the entrance of the dry, large, very deep cave had not been a
real deterrent for Jo Warwick. Young, strong, and
beautiful, she was not used to rejection or defeat.
The cave was a
hidden gem discovered recently in the Carpathian Mountains on Earth. The entire
place seemed to be a treasure trove. And “discovered recently” meant after
the interdiction against stepping on Earth had been put in place. After the
interdiction and especially the defense mechanism had been put into place. But
that was not something to keep Jo’s family, the powerful Warwicks, away. Not
even the imperator could stop a Warwick if they put their mind to doing
something.
The co-op students
were giggling as they worked, sometimes louder than they thought they were.
With the help of electrical lamps they were collecting and cataloging ceramic
pieces, stone tools, animal remains. Next to them, real archeologists were
slowly carving into the floor after more remains. The cave was full to the brim
with signs of a very old civilization. A civilization that Jo hoped to prove
was part of the Vinca culture. The project of her life.
Professor Hannigan, a corpulent man of about sixty, was studying some cave paintings. He
tried not to expose them to too much light, or heat, or sweat, or anything else
for that matter. He was mumbling while studying. His custom, as Jo knew, adding
to the general noise in the confined space of the cave. It was becoming quite
claustrophobic.
Jo was in her
mid-twenties, athletic, newly graduated from the university, and already in
charge of her first dig. She knew how students could get, but that didn’t mean
she agreed with the practice and the indulgences.
She approached the
walls with paintings, or more accurately, pictographs. One of them in
particular had drawn her attention. The drawn figures were vaguely human. Most
had huge round eyes and concentric circular shapes on their bodies. That was
specific to the Vinca culture, to the fashion or aesthetics of their times.
That was why she could barely contain her enthusiasm, her joy—she was
ninety-nine percent sure she’d just made the discovery of her life.
The pictograph that
had drawn her attention was part of a group, representing small humanlike
figures interacting with huge masked beings in weird, ritualistic suits. In the
first panel in the group, the humans bowed to the masked figures, obviously
their deities. There were no written sources for the Vinca culture, so nothing
was known of their religion or mythology.
Jo got closer to the
drawings.
“Silence!” she
barked over the background noise in the cave. Everyone looked at her and shut
up. She was known for a frightful temper and no one wanted to enter into a
conflict with her.
“They’re just
students on their first practicum,” said Hannigan in a low voice only the two
of them could hear. He was like a grandfather to everyone on the team, always
ready to indulge them and spoil them.
“Not on my money,
they’re not,” said Jo. “They’re students in their first practice and one day
they could brag about the experience they got here. They could brag and get the
best paid gigs because of this.”
“Yes, but young
people…” Hannigan hesitated, looking at Jo. Then, probably realizing he was
talking to a young person, he gave up.
The best practice
was to ignore the old man and leave it be. She had to put up with all his
eccentricities because he was the best in the field and expert on this period
of time in Earth’s history. And he was easy to satisfy in terms of credits and
accolades. He valued money above all else.
So Jo returned to
the pictographs. She got closer to the next one. In it, a man with a wolf head
shot stars through some sort of weapon toward one of the masked figures. The
masked figure’s body was covered in symbols and shone a bright red.
In the next panel,
the masked figure had collapsed, probably dead. His body was still covered in
unknown symbols.
Jo returned to the
previous panel. The weapon looked like a bone, a real bone encrusted in stone.
The stars shooting from it had started to sparkle and fluctuate. What the…
Jo got even closer and tried to discern what could make it sparkle like that.
There didn’t seem to be anything on the stone base but the painting. She
extended her hand and held it above the sparks. No heat. She then touched the
bone embedded in the stone. Dry, porous bone. She walked her fingers over the
sparks and the shooting stars and then, a red spark passed from the stone to Jo’s
skin.
Where it touched the
skin a red impression, like a tattoo, spread on Jo’s skin. It had happened so
fast that Jo couldn’t do anything else but watch the whole thing with
curiosity. She lifted her camera to take a picture, but froze. The tattoo had
spread up her arm and down her other arm and she realized it was all over her
body, flickering on her skin. It felt like an electric shock. Jo shuddered and
collapsed.
Costi’s fiction has appeared in Canada, the US,
and Europe. He has sold 8 books and over 50 stories for which he has won 32
awards. He was three times a finalist for the Canadian Aurora Awards.
His latest sales include the anthologies Tesseracts 17, The Mammoth Book of
Dieselpunk, Dark Horizons, Street Magick, Water, and Alice Unbound.
His bestselling novel RecipeArium has won three awards (Kult, Nemira, and Vladimir Colin) and was a 2018
finalist for the Aurora Awards.
His novels, “Servitude”, “Green Corrosion”, “Pink Corrosion”, and
“Black Corrosion” were published in 2022, 2023, 2024, and 2025. And his latest
novel “The Cursed” was launched on April 1st, 2026.
“Green Corrosion” has won four awards (Book Excellence, The Typesmith
Writers, The International Impact Book, and the Maincrest Media Award).
“Black Corrosion” has been an Amazon Bestseller for three weeks and is
a finalist for Canreads Awards 2026.
Genre: Dark Epic Fantasy, Alice in Wonderland Retelling
This is book #1 of The Book of Alice duology.
Wonderland has fallen. And something older than kings has
taken its place.
Alice returns to consciousness in a ruined palace, her body broken, her mind
fractured, her sister enslaved by a queen who wears a crown of thorns and a
smile of knives. The Looking Glass is shattered. The Hatter has turned. The
White Queen is dead.
But beyond the bloody thrones and broken teacups lies something even
stranger—an echo of a play that should never be performed, whispered by a
masked god in yellow.
To save what little remains, Alice must navigate a sea of madness, hunt down a
missing monarch, and confront the truth behind her own unraveling story.
The Red Queen played the long game. She murdered the White Queen and
spared Alice, Ava, Hatter, and Lady Cheshire the purge that followed; even
Tinker was allowed to live just long enough to complete his devices for the
journey. Holding Ava and the Cheshire girls hostage, even releasing the giants,
was all part of a plan the Red Queen had mapped out in her mind well in
advance. She wanted the Azure Queen dead and the Red King back. Now all her
pieces were in play on the chessboard.
Like every game, chess had rules.
Alice never played by the rules.
She would make her own rules.
She would beat the Red Queen at her own game.
Alice doing Alice things.
Jack Finn is a horror author and active Horror Writers Association
member living in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with his wife and two
fiendishly clever dogs. He is a lifelong believer that the Tooth Fairy proves
you can trade body parts for cold, hard cash.
His books by the include, The Wolves of Kalinin werewolf duology: Prey Upon the
Lambs (Anuci Press 2025) and The Desolation of Hunters (Anuci Press 2025); the
horror collection They Come When You Sleep (Velox Books 2025), a re-envisioning
of the Dracula mythos in the standalone novel The Seven Deaths of Prince Vlad
(Anuci Press 2024), and the folk horror collection, Legend of the Deer Woman
(Crow Street Press, 2023).
