Friday, June 5, 2026

IYSH by Greg Price #fiction #excerpt #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours




Fiction

Date Published: 04-17-2025



In 1940, Leo Butlion, a young Jew studying to be a medical doctor in Koblenz, Germany, has his future plans disrupted when Nazi forces destroy his family and their business. His heroic escape and commitment to survive drive him to overcome the greatest test man could ever encounter. Ivy Jacobson, a deformed yet highly talented fashion designer, works in a textile factory in Liege, Belgium that is ransacked by Nazi invaders. She escapes their brutality and meets Leo. Leo explains the Hebrew word IYSH which means "champion" and together they agree to persevere and champion the cause no matter how difficult it becomes. Their heroism and tenacity unfold in dramatic fashion as they are captured, separated and sent to concentration camps where their future survival is unclear. The story develops from WWII until the Yom Kippur War in 1973 which takes place in Israel.

Excerpt

A week later, as roll call is coming to an end, a woman standing close to Ivy begins coughing and heaves clots of blood that splash onto the white frost at her feet. She is so weak she struggles to stay on her feet. She staggers for a moment and then stumbles forward onto the woman in front of her. The weak, sick woman has no strength left, and falls backwards onto Ivy. Ivy instinctively reaches forward to catch her, but is late in getting to her. The weight of the sick woman falls directly onto Ivy’s left arm. As Ivy catches her, she feels the leather strap snap under the woman’s weight. The prosthesis falls to the ground, making a crunching noise as it hits the frost.

Ivy’s first reaction is to camouflage the prosthesis lying on the ground, and she falls onto it, pulling the woman on top of her. “Karen, help me,” is Ivy’s desperate call. Karen notices the whole event, and reacts quickly by falling on top of the two women. A guard pushes his way past the rest of the women, and storms towards them, “Get up! This is no place to lie down!” The rasping command spreads fear into the three women lying on the frost.

They don’t look at the guard and Karen tries to crawl over Ivy and reach for the prosthesis. However, the guard notices the straps sticking out from under the sick woman’s waist. As Karen picks it up, the guard sticks his huge black military boot out and tramples her fingers into the frost. She screams with pain, but does not let go of the thongs, hoping she can hide the prosthesis and the thongs under Ivy and the sick woman. Karen kicks at the guard’s knee high boots, and he doesn’t feel anything. She is trying to distract his attention and allow Ivy to hide the prosthesis.

“What’s this?” The guard kneels down looking at the thongs, and pulls them towards him. He stands up and holds the prosthesis shoulder high. Bewilderment is the first expression he portrays and then a smirk filters over his face. He looks directly at Ivy who lies on the cold frost. She rolls over face down onto the frost

and starts sobbing, knowing that after all she had been through, she has now been found out. Karen crawls towards her on all fours, leans over her, and tries to console her. “Ivy, we must be strong, they won’t hurt us. Be strong, please.” Karen knows she is talking to herself as well, and that the words are futile. This has to be the end for both women.

“Get up!” shouts the guard as he kicks Ivy and Karen. He leaves the sick woman who is unable to move, blood still pouring out of her mouth as she coughs. “I said get up! Are you also deaf, woman!” The statement cuts into Ivy’s heart like a sharp, piecing hot iron.

Karen is the first one on her feet, and she leans over to help Ivy. The guard reacts with a swift thrust of his right arm against Karen’s back that sends her crashing to the ground. “She can get up on her own! Let’s see her do it.” Turning to Ivy, he shouts hysterically at her, “Get up, woman, or must I shoot you now!” Ivy gets to her knees and falls again. Her strength is sapped by fear and anguish. By now, fear and heartache flood both their hearts. For Ivy, it is all over. Surely they will kill me is all she can think of. Oh, why did this have to happen now? She shakes on her feet as she sobs, cradling the left stump in her right hand. Why God, why? The guard grabs Karen by the neck, and pushes her brutally towards the back of the ranks. “We will teach you to betray the Wehrmacht, slut. There is only one way to teach you a lesson, and everyone else!” By now, the guard is so angry at the fact that a woman has concealed her prosthesis from the army, he is prepared to vent this on Karen.

The matron, who is standing on the platform, doesn’t care what the guard does to Karen. Then she points to Ivy, who is still on her knees trying to get up, and commands another guard in a callous fashion, “Bring me that heap of misery!” Ivy is terrified. Her body shakes as she tries to walk through the prisoners towards the matron. As she reaches the platform, Ivy stands in front of the matron, her head is down looking at the ground because she is unable to face her executioner.

“So, you have been hiding this from us all this time!” The words slam into Ivy’s heart as she stands shaking, knowing that this is to be her impromptu trial. “How long have you been like this?” Ivy cannot bring herself to reply. Through the tears, she looks up at the matron.

The matron struts to her desk and drops into the chair. She pays no attention to Ivy, who stands in front of her shaking. Ivy has no control over her emotions anymore, and the anxiety and terror that encases her heart causes her to soil herself. She stands in front of the matron still holding her left stump in her right hand.

Ivy’s fate is in the hands of this plump round-faced matron who, during the years at the camp, has never showed mercy to anyone. Surely Ivy’s punishment will be worse than Karen’s. Oh, God, please help me, I am this way because of you, please God, please, begs Ivy under her breath as she stands trembling from fear.

“How long have you been like this?” inquires the matron for the second time. Ivy tries to straighten up, and she wipes the tears from off her checks. Then she reaches down to her torn dress, and uses it to wipe her nose. She croaks out the words, “Since birth.”

“Then how in tarnation did you get into this camp, and hide this from us all the time!” The matron explodes in anger and slams her fist on the desk as she speaks at the top of her voice. “Do you know what they do to deformed people in the Third Reich?” The question thunders in Ivy’s ears. She knows all too well what happens to them, and she realizes that this is the eventual road she will have to go once the matron is finished with her.

It is too much for Ivy, and her knees cave in under the mental pressure, and she leans forward to hold onto the desk as the gravity of the situation swoops over her.

“Do you know that I have no choice but to follow orders and shoot you?” The uncouth matron, who shows no pity on Ivy, mouths the death knell. With the emptiness of a hangman, she speaks them to Ivy, as if to say, you are done for. “Please, Matron, please,” says Ivy as she sobs, desperately pleading for her life to be spared. She can get nothing else out. Her throat dries up, and her mind is swimming as the overpowering fear avalanches its way into her heart. She falls to her knees under the strain and pressure and hangs onto the edge of the desk, breaking out into a heart wrenching sob.

“Adjutant, get in here!” shouts the matron. This must be the final decision for Ivy, as she realizes she will now be dragged out to the courtyard and shot in front of the other prisoners. She tries to stand up and face the last few minutes of her life with at least some dignity.

The adjutant walks briskly to the matron’s desk and stands to attention, waiting his instructions. To her amazement Ivy hears the words, “Get me this woman’s file.” The adjutant pulls at Ivy’s right arm, and looks at her number, does an about face, walks out of the office, and returns a few minutes later with a brown manila file.

The matron reaches for the file and casually flips it open. Her eyes fall on a letter addressed to her from Captain Willem Langford in the Textile factory in Berlin where Ivy has worked. A frown creases her brow as she holds the letter towards the light.

The matron drops the letter on her desk and speaks to Ivy in a condescending manner, “You seemed to be of some use to this Captain Langford, what did you get up to there? I suppose you were more than a designer, or do I read this incorrectly?” Ivy is insulted by the remark, and for the first time she stares at the matron, this time in indignation. “I don’t know what you mean. I did what I was told, and that’s all.” She gathers enough courage to make her next point very

clear, “Contrary to your thinking, Captain Langford is an honorable man, and a fine officer. As for me, I’m your prisoner, and have never been abused by him.”

“Captain Langford, this is Matron Von Eck at Ravensbruck Concentration Camp.”

“Yes, Matron, what can I do for you?” Langford is cordial and to the point. “I want you to think back to when you had a prisoner working for you. Her name was Jacobson, she was…”

The matron can say no more as Langford immediately interrupts her. “Yes, I remember her, Matron. She did the Wehrmacht excellent service, even as a prisoner.” There is a moment of silence before Langford speaks again. “Matron, it was the last day she worked for us. The moment I found out she had one hand, I sent her back to you. This was also the day that General Gruber visited the factory, and gave us orders to start a new production line for the next phase for the war. It was when I was discussing the new designs with her that I found out she was deformed.”

Langford uses his superior rank on the matron and reacts to her question, “I wrote to you the day I transferred her back to you. How come you are calling me now about this woman?” The question is direct and places the matron on the defensive.

“Something has come up, and she is involved in it. I needed to get clarification from you.” Her answer is evasive and almost works.

Langford again decides to use his rank, and in an unprecedented manner, commands the matron. “I will need her very soon again. In fact I am looking for workers with such talent right now, and instructing you to do nothing with her. I will contact you within the month, and arrange her transfer back to this factory. Is that understood?”

The matron has no choice but to obey the officer who is much higher in rank than her. She also realizes that there is nothing she can do to Ivy. That is her instruction, and she had better take care of Ivy, or she will be held accountable by her superiors if anything happens to her.

The matron replaces the receiver, scowls as she shuffles the papers back into Ivy’s folder, and bellows, “Jacobson, get back in here, now!”

As Ivy walks back into the office expecting to hear her death sentence, to her amazement, Ivy hears the matron growl at her as she struggles to say, “Return to your barrack. Let me be clear on this, if you ever flaunt your deformity to anyone, or on any guard, I will personally take great delight in punishing you. Do you hear me?”

Ivy does not answer her. She turns around and walks out of the office. As she leaves, she looks up at the sky. It is grey and miserable that morning. But, now there is a ray of sunshine peeping through a gap in the clouds. She takes hold of her left arm and says through the tears of relief, “IYSH”.


About the Author

 

 Greg Price is a writer, human resource expert and an ordained minister. He has traveled extensively throughout the world and shares his experiences by translating them into literary characters who inspire and motivate the reader. Greg immigrated to the United States from south Africa and currently lives with his wife in Mississippi.


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Thursday, June 4, 2026

Room 13: A Fighter Pilot's Story by Kenneth Gilmore #history #war #biography #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours




History / War / Biography

Date Published: April 13, 2026

Publisher: MindStir Media

 


What happens when training ends—and real combat begins?
In ROOM 13: A Fighter Pilot’s Story, Colonel Kenneth Gilmore delivers a gripping, firsthand account of life as a fighter pilot during the Vietnam/Laos conflict, where survival was never guaranteed—and every mission could be your last.

This powerful military memoir traces Gilmore’s extraordinary journey from a college football coach to an elite U.S. Air Force fighter pilot, flying some of the most iconic aircraft of the era, including the F-102, F-101, A-1 Skyraider, and F-106.

But nothing could prepare him for the brutal reality of war.


✈️ 220 Combat Missions. One Life-Changing Experience.
Assigned to fly the A-1 Skyraider—an aircraft with one of the highest loss rates of the Vietnam War—Gilmore quickly learned that traditional training fell short in the face of enemy fire.

After being shot down during mission 130, he survived hours on the ground before rescue—an experience that would forever shape his life, leadership, and understanding of war.


🔥 The Seven Rules That Meant Survival
In the chaos of combat, Gilmore and a fellow pilot developed seven essential rules for survival—lessons forged under extreme pressure and life-or-death conditions.

These principles became the foundation of his leadership when he later returned to command and mentor fellow fighter pilots as an Operations Officer.


🎖️ A Story of Courage, Leadership, and Sacrifice
Over the course of his career, Gilmore flew 220 combat missions and earned numerous honors, including three Distinguished Flying Crosses for heroism. His rapid rise through the ranks to Colonel reflects both his skill and leadership—but also came at a cost, pulling him away from the cockpit he loved.

 


About the Author


Colonel Kenneth Gilmore (USAF Ret.) is a decorated Vietnam War fighter pilot and author of ROOM 13: A Fighter Pilot’s Story. With over 220 combat missions in the A-1 Skyraider and three Distinguished Flying Crosses for heroism, his experiences in air combat shaped both his military career and Phis life. Today, he shares his story to honor fellow pilots and educate future generations about the realities of war.


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The Shadow and Scepter: Tales of Méhns Móri, Book 1 by Shawn McMichael and Timothy Manley #fantasy #mythology #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours




Tales of Méhns Móri, Book 1


Low Fantasy, Greek Mythology & Legend, and Dark Fantasy

Date Published: May 19, 2026



When the gods went to war, they shattered the world.

Kingdoms burned. Ancient powers fell. And in the ruins they left behind, the shadow of Coruk-Azul the one-eyed god of death still lingers.

Hidden among the remnants of that forgotten age lies the Scepter of Selene, a divine relic once capable of maintaining balance between gods and mortals. Now broken into scattered fragments, the scepter has become the center of a brutal race that could reshape the fate of the world.

Endymion, a healer from distant Miletus, never sought glory or war. But after arriving in the Greek colony of Phanagoria at the edge of civilization, he is drawn into a deadly conflict alongside warriors, exiles, and survivors bound together by prophecy, secrets, and survival.

Because something ancient is rising.

Vädumir.

Undying conqueror. Cursed warlord. A tyrant who has outlived kingdoms and buried entire empires beneath blood and ash. For centuries, Vädumir has hunted the fragments of the scepter, and he will destroy anyone standing in his path.

If the relic is restored, balance may return to a dying world.

If it fails, something far worse may awaken beneath the ruins of the gods.

Blending dark fantasy, Greek mythology, celestial magic, vampires, giants, and ancient Black Sea civilizations, The Shadow and Scepter is a fast-paced historical fantasy epic perfect for readers of John Gwynne, Joe Abercrombie, and Jay Kristoff.

 

 

About the Authors

Long before they began writing epic fantasy together, Timothy Manley and Shawn McMichael were Navy brats growing up on Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay. They filled their youth with adventures, imagination, and late nights lost in role-playing and strategy games where heroes, monsters, and distant worlds first took shape. Decades later, that shared love of storytelling became The Shadow and the Scepter, the first novel set in the mythic world of Méhns Móri: a realm forged from ancient history, forgotten legends, and the sweeping traditions of heroic fantasy.


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Author Shawn Goodreads

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Shawn McMichael is a storyteller who draws inspiration from history, mythology, and a lifelong hunger for discovery, having traveled to over thirty countries. With degrees in communications and history education and a long career spanning the software and gaming industries, he has spent decades in pursuit of the stories only the past can tell. Shawn lives in Washington State with his wife and family.



Timothy Manley is the author of multiple science fiction and fantasy works, including the Earthborn Saga. A veteran of the software and gaming industries, he brings deep experience in world-building and narrative design to everything he writes. Tim holds a BA in English from San Francisco State University and an MBA from Western Governors University, and lives in Oregon with his wife and two of his five children.

 

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The Road Home and Other Stories by Gene Altman #bookreview #shortstories #fiction #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 


Short fiction collection

Date Published: March 4, 2026 

Publisher: Manhattan Book Group 



The Road Home is a powerful and emotionally rich literary fiction short story collection that explores the universal search for identity, belonging, and meaning in life.


From a chance encounter that propels a young mother into the glamorous world of high fashion… to an elderly widower rediscovering hope through an unexpected bond… to a troubled young man battling inner demons—these stories highlight the resilience of the human spirit.


Set across diverse locations and cultures, these compelling stories examine:

●     Self-discovery, emotional healing and personal transformation

● Connection, friendship and Love.

● Written by retired psychiatrist Gene Altman, this collection offers readers authentic, insightful, and psychologically rich storytelling.


At the heart of the collection is the title story, The Road Home, a moving exploration of what “home” truly means—not a physical place with walls and a roof, but a deeply personal destination where one is fully accepted and finds belonging, comfort and safety.


Perfect for fans of literary fiction, psychological fiction, and character-driven stories, The Road Home invites readers to reflect on their own lives and discover the strength to overcome obstacles by discovering unexpected inner resources within themselves.




Review

This book came through as an exploration of human connection and self-discovery. 

Across the many stories, Gene Altman builds on themes of identity, displacement, and the emotional pull of “home.” 

The meaningfulness of the book comes across slowly and subtly, but will stick with you. 


About the Author


Gene Altman is an award-worthy literary fiction author, retired psychiatrist, and former professional photographer whose work explores the depth of human emotion, identity, and personal transformation. A graduate of Harvard College and Stanford Medical School, Altman brings a rare blend of psychological rigor and creative insight to his writing.

Before dedicating four decades to clinical psychiatry in Hawaii, Altman worked as a professional photographer in New York City. His candid photography and prose collection, Cityscapes: Intimate Strangers, earned praise for its evocative storytelling and emotional impact.

After retiring from psychiatry, Altman turned his focus to writing literary short fiction inspired by his lifelong passion for helping individuals better understand themselves. His stories explore themes of self-discovery, friendship and love—making his work resonate with readers seeking thoughtful, character-driven narratives.

With a unique perspective shaped by both psychology and art, Gene Altman crafts compelling stories that illuminate the complexities of the human experience.

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Wednesday, June 3, 2026

The Shores of Our Souls by Kathryn Brown Ramsperger #multicultural #familysaga #fiction #giveaway #rabtbooktours @KathyRamsperger @RABTBookTours




Multicultural Family Saga / Fiction

Date Published: 4-21-2026

Publisher: Ground One Press



She’s a sheltered American. He’s a Middle Eastern diplomat. Can their love lead to lasting peace overseas?

New York City, 1981. Dianna leaves her small southern town for the bright lights and rich culture of the Big Apple and a prime job at the Met. Sparks fly when she crosses paths with a charming Lebanese diplomat. A shared night of passion launches her into an exciting romance and opens her eyes to a bloody conflict far from home. But as warring factions take hold overseas, she can’t shake the feeling that her new love is hiding dark secrets.

Qasim has never known peace. When he gets the chance to bring his country’s troubles before the United Nations, he abandons his family obligations to heal his war-torn homeland. But his true mission takes a detour when he falls for a beautiful American woman. Against the urging of his closest friend and mentor, he wants to share his heart and hopes with her.

In the face of cultural barriers and mounting war, can Dianna and Qasim find the strength to stand up for their love and a lasting peace?

 


About the Author


KATHRYN BROWN RAMSPERGER is an award-winning author, editor, and creativity coach. A former National Geographic writer and researcher and humanitarian staff member for the International Red Cross, she has lived and worked in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East, regions that deeply inform her storytelling. The Shores of Our Souls is a Foreword Indies finalist and a finalist in the Faulkner-Wisdom Literary Competition. She’s a recipient of the Hollins University Fiction Award.

Having firsthand experience in the places she writes about, Kathryn brings a unique authenticity to her stories, blending rich cultural details with the universal themes of love, redemption, and peace. She studied creative writing at Hollins University, and publications management at George Washington University. She currently lives in Maryland with her husband. They have two adult children, off to their own world adventures, but still parent a feisty feline. Next on their bucket list: Croatia, Portugal, or Tanzania!


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Nana Claus and the Thank-You Notes by Kelly Reddin #comingsoon #excerpt #childrensbook #picturebook #kidsbook #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours




Children's Picture Book

Date Published: 07-02-2026

Publisher: Solander Press



Gratitude is important to Nana Claus. Even the smallest act of kindness spreads joy, like sending thank-you notes. Nana Claus helps some special friends learn to write thank-you notes to thank others for what they do for them. Nana and her friends learn about ways to say thank you using short notes.



 

About the Author


Kelly Reddin is an award-winning writer and author of the Celebrating Family Series, which highlights healthy relationships between children and the Nana Claus Series, focusing on kindness and friendship. Her short stories and essays have won numerous awards from writing organizations including the Joplin Writers Guild and the Ozark Writers League.

Kelly is a former elementary, middle grade and college educator. Her work at LEGO Education spanned two decades in a variety of positions from Curriculum Specialist to Global Master Trainer. Kelly loves to travel, meet new people, and learn about the world around her. She is active in her community, serving on several non-profit boards.

Join her email list to get updates on her latest releases and her monthly newsletter.


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Tuesday, June 2, 2026

Silver Spider by Lena Austin #fantasy #lgbtq #romance #excerpt #comingsoon #rabtbooktours @ChangelingPress @RABTBookTours




A Paranormal Murder Mystery Romance


Fantasy / Romance / LGBTQ+

Date Published: June 5, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

 


The secretive Duke of Aberystwyth has invited Madge Majesty to a murder mystery party, but he's the first victim!

Madge is a harpy, mystery writer, and amateur sleuth with a nose for murder. At her side is her faithful chauffeur, Hayden, who is a telekinetic ex-thief -- and a confirmed bachelor.

Now it's up to Madge to solve the whodunit. Her suspects are a motley assortment of inverts and very nervous heterosexuals, all of whom have more than just their sexual foibles to hide. Is it the cross-dressing vampire, the packless werewolf, the voyeuristic doctor, the gargoyle majordomo, or the promiscuous man who seems bent on getting everyone into his bed, including Hayden?


Excerpt


All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2026 Lena Austin


"Madame?"


Madge Majesty looked up from her study of the papers spread on her lap and across the seat of her beloved 1912 Rolls Royce Silver Ghost Limousine. "Yes, Hayden?"


"Madame, Dunraven Castle is but perhaps half an hour away. You requested a warning." Hayden had lasted years longer than any of her other drivers, so he knew he was liked, but wasn't fool enough to take advantage of that knowledge. Harpies were not creatures to take lightly.


"Hmm. So I did." She gathered up her papers and stuffed them into her leather case. Wearily, she pulled on the gloves she'd laid to the side and put on the ridiculously large hat with an immense array of feathers decorating it. "There. I'm properly adorned." She huffed out an unladylike breath, as much as her corset would allow. "I'd give a great deal to be back in Greece where the fashions were sensible."


Hayden quirked a smile at her. "But not warm, Madame. Wales in winter is considerably chillier." As if to emphasize his point, the wind rattled the Rolls with no respect for the craftsmanship that went into it.


"I'm very sorry I agreed to be the Duke's hostess for this mystery party. Why didn't I refuse and stay in our lovely townhouse in London, where I could enjoy a party or write as I pleased?" Madge rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Ah, well, what's done is done. We'll make the best of the weekend and be toasting our toes in front of the home fires soon enough."


"I've never been to a mystery party, Madame. How does one throw a party for a mystery?"


"Very simple. It's all in this box." Madge patted the locked strongbox beside her. "There are clue cards and the basic plot for me to follow. This one is perfect for a winter game, called The Santa Clause. Who wouldn't love to murder a solicitor or two now and again?" She shrugged. "I certainly would, upon occasion."


Hayden retreated into silence and returned his attention to maneuvering her precious new car through the few treacherous roads that Wales bothered to have at all. The ex-thief was not fond of anyone who had anything to do with the law. He was officially rehabilitated, but a mere ten years of service as her driver didn't negate a lifetime of running from authority. An extremely careful and quiet man by nature, he was -- in Madge's opinion -- the perfect companion, much better than a twittering peahen of a lady's maid.


The car lurched and slid to one side on a patch of icy mud, throwing Madge against the door. She bore it in stoic silence. Hayden wouldn't understand how much they needed the money provided by this weekend of enforced merriment. Everyone was writing books in this day and age, and she wouldn't say the money she earned was paltry, but it certainly didn't allow for a lavish lifestyle. In fact, if the truth were known, Hayden was the only employee she could afford. Thus, while on their jaunts -- often paid by those who wished for a bit of fame and glamour to rub off on them -- Hayden served as chef, chauffeur, lady's maid, and man of all work.


Since it suited her to be knowledgeable about subjects many men hadn't even the stomach for, Madge pulled out of her case one of the few books where the great Sigmund Freud appeared to change his mind on the subject of anxiety and inhibitions. Madge grinned to herself. She did love humor, especially when humans meant to be serious. "Of course we all have inhibitions, moronic little man."


Her mumble caught Hayden's attention. "Why do you bother with that mumbo-jumbo, Madame? He thinks everything has to do with sexual congress!"


"Hmm, yes, well, he does have certain prejudices, doesn't he? I'm not aberrant because I enjoy sex, and I seriously doubt the way your mother changed your nappies has anything to do with your homosexuality. Do be forgiving, dear. He's hopelessly addicted to cocaine, and trapped in a repressed society."


Sadly, everything she said was true. "You'd know more about repressed societies than I, Madame. I'm only a poor human, after all." Hayden gave her one of his infamous Mona Lisa smiles -- a smile that showed no teeth but implied much more than mischief while keeping well into propriety. Bless him, he never stepped a toe out of line publicly, unless called upon to do so.


Madge, on the other hand, had no compunctions about showing her fangs, even when she covered her retractable dagger-like talons with silk gloves. The pointed ears peeking out of dark curls and her Grecian looks marked her as a foreigner in a land notable for its snobbery, but Madge saw no need to bother hiding herself. Well, all right, she hid the wings. Blasted things got in the way if she didn't, but that was for her convenience and not propriety. She was what she was -- an expatriate harpy who told a good story and occasionally found cause to use her bloodthirsty nature to solve a mystery.


The irony was, no one ever thought to accuse her of the murders because harpies weren't known for subtlety when it came to killing. Madge acknowledged the legend with twisted lips, and didn't bother to remind anyone that she was free and no longer the slave of the Furies.


Framed by snow clouds the color of a pigeon's breast, Dunraven Castle hove up from the surrounding hills like a fairytale. Beautifully situated and scrupulously maintained by a trust none of the Duke's wastrel ancestors could touch, it was a welcoming sight in the gathering gloom of dusk. Thanks to the road conditions, if you dared call the deeply rutted mud tracks by the same noble word the Romans used for their craftsmanship, they were hours late. They'd missed tea in their haste to make up time, and now her stomach rumbled audibly. "Have we time for a biscuit, Hayden?"


"Was that your stomach, Madame? Surely I thought we were about to have a storm." Hayden pretended to study the sky very seriously. At the same time, his hand reached back imploringly. "I'd love a bikky, thank you. No doubt I've missed the servant's dinner, and I've no mind to make do with a bit of cold chicken and some bread until morning."


Chuckling wickedly because he knew she always insisted he sit with her at table, forestalling any foolish matchmaking attempts, Madge handed him a large shortbread biscuit from her hamper, and they munched companionably. Finally, the car traversed the bridge atop the dry moat and passed through the portcullis into the courtyard of Dunraven.


"Just do me one small favor, Madame?" Hayden did not move from the seat to open her door.


"So serious! Very well, what is it?" She thought she knew, but made him ask.


"Let's try not to let this weekend become a real murder mystery?" His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and she imagined under the proper driving gloves of his profession, his knuckles were white. Poor thing, he really had suffered at the last mysterious weekend, and had ended up incarcerated for three days until Madge had proven to everyone's satisfaction that another had committed the deed. For poor Hayden, it had been a truly miserable occasion.


Madge patted his shoulder. "Buck up, Hayden. I'm planning nothing more than a game all weekend. After all, what could happen in the Duke's presence?"

 

About the Author

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!"

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won't listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?


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Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15



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The Bric-A-Brac of Mickey Mack by Mickey Mack #satire #poetry #bookreview #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours



Poetry /Comedy Satire Gift Rhyme Millennial Humor Silverstein Memory

Date Published: 04-15-2026

Publisher: The Tink and Tank Press



A wry poetry collection that captures the jarring sink-or-swim leap into adulthood. This book honors the limbo of exiting youth, a unique period where responsibility suddenly smashes the youthful optimist, crushing it under the crippling weight of adulthood. Twenty-somethings scatter across life's spectrum with some jobless and couch-surfing, while others marry, become parents, and buy a house. Everyone eventually finds themselves old enough to fight in foreign wars but too young to rent a car. It's the fast, brutal shift to an unguarded world, to bowling without bumpers. You've entered a chaotic soup of competing ambitions and subterfuge, where one hand offers help while the other conceals a knife. You're expected to be an adult without ever having been one, like seeing the ocean from afar and suddenly wrestling its waves. This book highlights the inevitable sense of crushing defeat and loss, but reveals the importance of laughing anyway. After all, life is a game of avoiding the consequences of your own actions. The Bric-a-Brac of Mickey Mack will hand you a mirror and dare you to laugh at its reflection.



Review
This collection felt like sitting down with the man himself who has lived a full and fascinating life and listening to his stories. 
Mickey Mack shares memories, observations, and reflections. His unique way of writing lends to the book being wholly entertaining while challenging the reader.
I like how the collection had so many unique stories. Every story stands on its own. 
This was a wonderful memoir-style of storytelling.

About the Author


Mickey Mack is a world-weary traveler and obsessive collector of life’s absurd talismans and trinkets. After years of eavesdropping on bar-stool confessions around the globe, he distills the Suffering Olympics of modern adulthood into witty, rhythmic heroic couplets.


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Monday, June 1, 2026

Dosa Day by Veena Katikinei #childrensbook #kidsbook #newrelease #newbooks #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 


Children’s Picture Book

Date Published: June 2, 2026



It’s Dosa Day!

 

Join a curious child and their loving Ammamma on a joyful kitchen adventure filled with crispy dosas, colorful chutneys, and heartwarming family traditions. As they learn about different kinds of dosas, they discover that the real magic isn’t just in cooking—it’s in the time spent together.

Dosa Day is a playful children’s picture book celebrating Indian cuisine, family traditions, and intergenerational love. With rhythmic read-aloud text and vibrant illustrations, this story creates a rich sensory experience that introduces young readers to culture, connection, and mindful togetherness.

 

Perfect for children ages 3–7, this diverse picture book is ideal for:


          • Multicultural children’s books
          • Indian and South Asian culture stories for kids
          • Picture books about food, family, and traditions
          • Engaging read-aloud bedtime stories


Whether you’re introducing Indian cuisine like dosa for the first time or building a more inclusive children’s library, Dosa Day is a meaningful addition to any child’s bookshelf.

 

About the Author

 


 In the quiet magic of the Mojave Desert, where the sky stretches wide and the sunsets set everything golden, Veena Katikineni found the perfect place to let her imagination wander.

Dosa Day was born from a heart full of cherished memories: big, bustling family gatherings with her beloved Indian family, where the house was always full, the food was always flowing, and the smell of something delicious was always drifting through the air. Food wasn’t just food — it was love, laughter, and the heartbeat of every gathering.

A physician by training, Veena has spent her career caring for others, but she has always believed that stories heal in their own special way. This is her love letter to dosa, to her roots, and to the joy of sharing both with the world.

When she’s not writing or seeing patients, you’ll find her on her yoga mat, planning the family’s next adventure, or exploring the world with her loving husband and two spirited boys, her favorite companions in wandering and in life.

She believes magic lives in the everyday moments, especially the ones shared around a table.


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Sunday, May 31, 2026

Voices Carry Here by Gail Galotta #mystery #suspense #giveaway #excerpt #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours




Mystery and Suspense

Date Published: 05-04-2026

Publisher: Mission Point Press



Do you hear the voices? Listen if you dare . . . You’ll get both the heebies and the jeebies in this unsettling new title.

A henpecked husband learns that “till death do us part” isn’t the end of the story when his dead wife returns.

A newly retired couple uncovers a pestilent secret buried beneath their dream home.

A young woman retreats to the countryside to discover herself, only to stumble upon an unsolved tragedy calling out for justice.

Voices Carry Here is a collection of short stories steeped in mystery, suspense, and the supernatural. Set against the beauty of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, these tales will reveal secrets just beneath the surface of tranquil lakes, cries for help echoing from shadowed campgrounds, and small-town characters experiencing extraordinary circumstances.

Blending chills with warmth, author Gail Galotta’s flair for supernatural suspense is tempered with touches of humor, romance, and nostalgia.


 
Excerpt from “The Pestilence House”

We moved into our newly constructed home in early June. The first nightmare occurred just two weeks later.

I awoke to the sound of heavy breathing. Thinking at first that it was Ken, I swept my arm across to his side, but it was vacant. I quickly realized that something else was present in the room, something that was steadily approaching the bed. I lay there paralyzed, my back to the presence that hovered above me for a moment and then lowered toward my head. I could feel the subtle waves of labored breaths against the nape of my neck. I tried to scream, but terror froze my vocal cords. Is this a dream? It must be a dream! Where is Ken! Then, another sound invaded my ears—a guttural noise, like that of an animal. A racoon? A coyote? I jerked my head around and opened my mouth to fend off the beast with a mighty shout. Instead, my lips encountered the extended tongue of a different creature. His distorted face—with its bulbous nose and bulging eyes—scarcely seemed human. His skin was dappled with bruises and only thinly veiled the skeletal frame beneath. Suddenly, the tongue retracted, and the jaw extended in an effort to speak—or bite. I screamed. A bloodcurdling scream that vanquished the intruder and sent my very human husband rushing upstairs.

Ken turned on the light and sat next to me on the bed while I attempted an explanation of…I wasn’t sure what. He suggested that my nightmare may have been prompted by something I heard from the movie he had been watching. My trembling eased as he continued. “Sometimes I wake up and think someone’s at our door. You know, like when our dog used to hear a doorbell on TV.”

The reference made me smile. “I didn’t bark, did I?”

Although Ken’s theory seemed plausible, I wasn’t totally convinced. Especially after I suffered a similar experience a few nights later. Our cocker spaniel had been gone for several years, but when I felt the mattress yield to the weight of something at my feet, my first thought was of that beloved pet, and I instinctively adjusted my position to accommodate her. Then my eyes flashed open. Something was moving slowly along my body. I could feel the light depressions on the blanket, like footsteps in the snow. This time I didn’t scream. My breaths quivered as something pressed gently on my back and then my shoulder. I lay still, waiting to throw off the…squirrel? Rat? But when a whisper approached my ear, I bolted upright. Whatever noise I made alarmed Ken. This time the television was off, and the only ambient sound that could have possibly inspired my dream was the rhythmic breathing of my husband, who had been asleep next to me in bed.

 

About the Author


Gail Galotta was raised in Chicago with childhood summers in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

She’s always been drawn to the mystical pull of water, which often shapes the settings of her stories. An award-winning writer and former English teacher, she lives in Vulcan, Michigan, overlooking the same lake that inspired her earliest work. When asked what inspires her latest fiction, she offers only a cryptic smile.


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https://mybook.to/VoicesCarryHere

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