The Wars Between by Lee Mavin

A Young Adult Fantasy Novel Exploring Themes of Conflict, Propaganda and Empathy…

For centuries there had been an ongoing war between Asalandia, the proud monarchy of the east and Kastanair the progressive democracy of the west. However, the years of war would end with the most unlikely turn of events.

Outis Everrett, the disappointment of his family, a measly poet, is suddenly thrusted into an epic adventure across the sea, with the King’s blessing. His poem, the poem that somehow won the first annual Asalandian poetry competition, was meant to be taken across the seas, to the enemy island of Kastanair, there, it would be read by the President of Kastanair, the newly elected and very progressive, Penelope Chinwa and she was supposed stop the war after reading those so special words.

So Outis set sail aboard the Golden ship, guided and protected by the Knights of Sunrise and their adventures began. The Knights are led by Bartholemew Aries, the most famous soldier in Asalandia, though when their ship drifts off course to the mysterious island of Aquos Atalantious, the Princess of the island soon lures him to stay. So, the Knights of Sunrise become distracted by the beauties of this foreign island.  After failing to find the prince, who had been taken by a monstrous octopus, the Golden ship sails onto Kastanair, without its leader, who had fallen in love with the Princess. They then sail to Syanthia, where the worlds’ meat was produced. There they meet, the young Kastanairian, Gwenia Xiachung, an enthusiastic vegan on a mission to stop everyone eating meat. Outis is thrown into a pig saving mission with Gwenia and is intrigued by the young girl. After saving the pigs and convincing the head of meat production to change his ways with a beautiful poem about animal empathy, Gwenia falls in love with Outis. She joins him and the Knights of Sunrise on the voyage to back to her country, Kastanair. Once they finally reach the shores of Kastanair, they are attacked on the shores by a small army, led by Caslian Jesper, the tough captain who worked his soldiers to exhaustion. The Knights, Outis and Gwenia are rescued by Nastab and his band of terrorists who take them on horseback through Kastanair to Mount Xian. Nastab and his men come from a rebel group who had been dwelling on the plateau of Mount Xian, plotting to overthrow the government of Kastanair. However, their leader, who had driven their group to crimes and violence, was hoarding their food and treasure.

Caslian Jesper follows the terrorists to Mount Xian, in pursuit of two of his enemies at once, the terrorists and the Asalandians. Outis and Gwenia are suddenly taken off their horses by huge hawks, who fly them up Mount Xian, to a cave opening. There Gwenia and Outis meet The Tall Man, a strange man with huge black eyes who has no name. He takes them into the cave, and they fall more tall people. There they learn that the tall people had been in the caves for hundreds of years and they care not for treasures of war. The tall man collects water from an underground stream and fruits from the cave roofs and they take Outis and Gwenia up to the top of the mountain. There they find Caslian’s army had managed to climb to the top of the mountain in attempt to attack but they were too drained to fight so the tall man shared his fruit with them. Both sides rested as Outis read a poem to the leader of the terrorists.

Outis and Gwenia are then taken to the capital, by an eclectic group including Nastab, The Tall Man and the Knights of Sunrise, they journey through the planes of Kastanair where they are attacked by wolves. The Knights and Nastab fight the wolves off valiantly and they continue. When they finally reach the capital Outis reads his poem to the President, but it is not the words of his poem alone that convince her to stop the war, it is the group he brings with him, a group of once enemies, who had come together with the same goal. 

 

╰┈➤Book Details

• Genre: YA Fantasy
• Language: English
• Pages: 300

To find out how to purchase this book, visit the author’s website at leejmavin.com.

 

╰┈➤Read if you love…

YA

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧Fantasy

Unputdownable

Coming of Age

༄.ೃ࿔*Page Turner

Excerpt:

Outis Everrett was an overthinker. Every night he would toss and turn in his tiny chamber and go over and over the things he had to do the next day. He would plan the next day and things he would say, over and over in his mind, until he slowly became too tired to think and then he would finally fall asleep. He had been like this for a while now and try as he might, he couldn’t change this habit. He became sleepy with this constant worrying and it became difficult to do his day-to-day tasks. During the days, he would mope about with his head down, being of little use to anyone. To anyone else, he was a nobody, a useless man that was easy to forget, but Outis Everrett was much more than that. Outis Everrett was a poet. Outis loved poetry and wrote poetry a lot, but he didn’t consider himself an actual poet at the time. He simply thought very little of himself. One thing he knew for sure, he wasn’t a strong man. He wasn’t a sailor, a guard or a soldier and he didn’t ever want to become one of these.

He sighed and thought of his father’s words, ‘We come from a long line of warriors, long have we held our swords high and defended our lands with pride. It is your destiny, my son, to take up arms and keep fighting.’

But he was no warrior, and he was as thin as limegoat and he had been cursed with his mother’s short stature. He was shorter than the average Asalandian and was a lot weaker. He spoke with a soft, unsure voice and often didn’t say anything at all. He rarely exercised and even his hair was unusually dark for an Asalandian (it was light brown, most Asalandians were blonde). He had avoided any kind of conflict his whole life, running from the bullies that called him Tiny in Sword School. As a child he often hid away in his room and read, he loved the adventure stories of journeys, and he especially loved the poets of the old world. He loved imagining, dreaming of far off lands, tales of monsters and horror. He was intrigued by the notion of destiny and longed for love. He was lonely and hid his thoughts from everyone. He thought nobody would understand him and was scared to look vulnerable. He just read all the time by himself and at times he wrote. He was an amazing poet but poets weren’t really talked about much in Asalandia. In fact, poetry wasn’t read much at all.

To be shunned was uncommon and not talked about. Most children (all able-bodied) trained hard before the test and if they failed, they tried again. Outis was shunned from the warriorship because he failed to take the final test. The reason for this was because he was too scared and couldn’t swing a sword hard enough to even make a sound. He was always a quiet young man, troubled by the weight of society, pressuring young men to fight, leading them to be battle ready. Everyone was constantly hearing about the threat of the enemy, every day they heard about the Kastanarians getting closer or the Kastanarians were preparing for war. The King was announcing it constantly and it was always being proclaimed from the palace. During these frequent announcements, everyone had to stand and listen. This was an unspoken rule and most people wanted to listen to the kings’ announcements. Outis wasn’t one of those people. He stopped listening to the kings’ announcements long ago and decided he would focus on other things. One of those things was poetry. He had read all the old poets over the years and started writing his own poetry out of frustration. He wanted to write poetry about the way things really were. He practiced his style constantly in his room, late at night, all by himself, slowly developing his voice. Then he wrote a very special poem. It was this very poem that changed the course of history in Asalandia. Yes, a poem did that. As absurd as it may seem, Outis managed to write the most amazing words every written. He crafted those words so beautifully that once you read it, your life would be forever different. That poem was such a special sonnet, it led to everything that happened afterward. It was in the lines of that poem that gave birth to the timeless truths, and they all came into view and the men that swayed power became powerless.

You might ask, how did the king manage to come across the poem of such an unimportant commoner like Outis. Well, that is a good question indeed. You see, around about the time Outis was masterfully creating the poem that changed the world forever, the King was actually going through a sort of inner, self-reflective process that had the Queen and the entire royal family particularly worried. It all started with the rain. Now Asalandia, famous for its beautiful sunshine, mostly had perfect weather, warm in the day, cool at night, deep blue skies that reflected the dark blue seas and it normally only rained during the rainy season for one month. However, that particular year, the rainy season stretched on for three months and it wasn’t just the typically light pitter patter, this was drizzle and depressing downpour, nonstop. So, this kept the King off his horses, which he loved dearly, and kept him in his chambers. This was where the King discovered poetry. The King couldn’t sleep well during the rainy season, so he often requested books from the library and read them to the wee hours of the morning. He started with the Histories and became quite depressed reading about all the wars, invasions, death and destruction. This left him feeling empty and alone, so he searched for more books. He was brought poetry and he instantly fell in love with it. He loved the rhyming patterns of the old poets and would sing them in his bed, often waking the poor Queen, who was getting very worried about her husband.

The King read poem after poem and slowly came to the realisation that something was missing. All the poems praised the warriors and gave thanks to all the kings. All the poems depicted Asalandia as heaven on earth, yet when he looked outside his window, all he saw was rain. He craved a poem that spoke the truth, that was as reflective as the water in Lake Asalandian (that is the clearest, cleanest and most beautiful lake in Asalandia), but he didn’t find it in his library. So, he slept less and less and worried with his head down reading, until he came up with it. The first Annual Poem Contest! This was the Contest that started it all and it was the king’s idea. He had signs made up immediately and had them posted all over the city. One sign happened to be posted right under Outis Everrett’s little house. When Outis saw the sign on the way, branded with the Kings sunbeam stamp of approval he was most pleased. It read:

The 1st Annual Poem Contest

Under order of the king, every man willing must enter the first annual poetry contest of Asalandia. The theme to the contest is: Asalandia, the winner receives fame and fortune beyond their wildest dreams and the highest honour, dinner with the king.

– Excerpted from The War Between by Lee J. Mavin, Tellwell Talent, 2026. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Lee J Mavin is the author of 11 books. He is also a teacher and father. He has a Masters in Creative Writing and am solely focused on writing fiction (fantasy and horror) and poetry. He is now in collaboration the illustrator Karolina Piotrowski, a Polish artist who has brought many stories to life. He has worked and studied in China and Japan and studied with Dr Xiaohuan Zhao (a master of Chinese poetry) to complete his book Li Bai’s Shadow, at the University of Sydney. He has two children who are both avid readers, so he is always in the loop with trends in children’s fiction. He is married and lives in Sydney, where he teaches English.

His latest book is the YA fantasy, The Wars Between.

Visit his website at leejmavin.com. 

Connect with him on social media at:

╰┈➤ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lee.mavin.925/ 

╰┈➤ Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/mavin798 

╰┈➤ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5103759.Lee_J_Mavin

╰┈➤ TikTok ➜ https://www.tiktok.com/@leemavin4  

Sponsored By:

 

Christmas traditions, old and new from Sgt. Windflower and his family and friends.

 

Title: CHRISTMAS IN NEWFOUNDLAND 3

Author: Mike Martin

Publisher: Ottawa Press and Publishing

Pages: 160

Genre: Mystery/HolidayFiction

Format: Paperback / Kindle / FREE on Kindle Unlimited

Sgt. Windflower loves Christmas and we’re happy to share what he and his family and friends do at Christmastime in Grand Bank or Marystown or Ramea, Newfoundland. Some of the stories feature Windflower and Sheila’s adorable daughters and of course Eddie Tizzard and his family make several spotlight appearances. Other stories take you back to Christmas seasons of many years long past and there’s even a return of a fabulous Newfoundland tradition, the Mummers.

Christmas is a time to celebrate but it is also a time to reminisce and remember. We hope that it will bring back pleasant memories for you and your family to share at Christmas and throughout the year. Come celebrate Christmas in Newfoundland with Sgt. Windflower Mysteries.

Read sample here.

Christmas in Newfoundland is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

A Christmas Wish

Richard Tizzard gazed out at the ocean from his small home in Grand Bank, Newfoundland. The wind was high, and the waves were crashing against the shore, sending spray up into the air. Already, his house had a thick coating of the stuff on the side facing the water and he could hear it creaking and groaning against this relentless onslaught.

But inside, with the wood stove piled high, Richard and his old dog, Rusty, were perfectly comfortable and content. Both of them were coming to the end of their lives and Richard had accepted that almost completely. His children were trying to keep him hanging on as long as possible, but he was fine with what he knew was an inevitable outcome. 

He loved the quote by the great Bengali poet, Rabindranath Tagore that his friend, Doctor Vijay Sanjay had shared with him. He smiled to himself as he repeated it to Rusty. “’Death is not extinguishing the light; it is putting out the lamp as dawn has come’.” Rusty seemed to smile, too, at this saying. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to go, but Richard Tizzard was getting himself ready. In the meantime, he planned to enjoy his family to the upmost. His two daughters, Margaret and Brenda lived in Grand Bank with their almost grown-up families. His son, Eddie, lived in Marystown now with his wife Carrie and their two children. Little Hughie was almost two and the joy of Richard’s life while the baby, Sophie, was quickly overtaking her brother as his favourite. 

He smiled again when he thought about Eddie and his young family. It reminded him of when he had a young family of his own back in the tiny community of Ramea. Ramea is and was a small village off the southwest coast of Newfoundland that was only accessible by ferry. It did, however, have a rich fishing ground nearby and for many years provided a good livelihood for Richard and his four brothers, all of whom fished the abundant waters for many years.

But in the early 1990’s the inshore cod fishery collapsed and by 1992, when the cod moratorium was declared, all of them were out of work. The older brothers retired their boats and licenses and took the government support that was offered. Richard was too young for that, so he used the payout to move to Grand Bank. First, he worked in the fishing industry on a crew of a longliner operating out of Marystown. But when that work diminished, he went back to his true love, carpentry and woodworking.

He still did a little personal work on the side but his days of working for a living were over. He enjoyed all his family and the grandchildren tremendously, but the truth was that all he had left today were memories. Like many older people he spent a lot of time reminiscing and remembering these days. And as it was getting near Christmas, he thought a lot about Christmas from his past.

Growing up in his mom and dad’s saltbox house in Ramea. Christmas was a very quiet and peaceful affair. But he still remembered it fondly as one of the nicest times of the year. His father and older brothers were fishermen, so the winter was a slow season. They fixed their nets and did a few odd jobs around the house, but most of their time was spent cutting and splitting wood for the cast iron woodstove that heated their home and was action central for all cooking and baking.

About two weeks before Christmas his mother would start her Christmas baking. Shortbread cookies, mince pies and next year’s Christmas cakes. This year’s cakes were all ready to be unwrapped in a week or so and that would begin the ‘season of eating’ his dad called it. Richard loved the smell of the cookies and cakes as the days went by and to hear his mother singing, usually some old hymn or Christmas song like Angels We Have Heard on High or Away in a Manger. 

The men would continue their work as usual until a few days before Christmas Day. Then, his father would announce that it was time to get their tree and the whole family, except his mother, who was almost literally chained to the stove in the kitchen, would head out with their horse and sleigh to find a Christmas tree. They didn’t have to go far.

The houses in Ramea were built mostly around the harbour in sheltered nooks and crannies out of the constant wind. That meant almost all the land above them was still heavily forested with an abundance of Balsam firs that made the perfect Christmas trees. His father would lead the procession into the forest, but the tradition in the Tizzard family was that all the children would draw straws to see would pick their tree. The year Richard drew the shortest straw he was so excited he almost peed his pants.

As the others urged him on, making suggestions, Richard took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them and turned around, he saw it. A six-foot Balsam fir with many branches that spread out from top to bottom. “That’s it,” he cried, and everyone cheered. They cut it down and put it on the back of the sleigh to go home. When they arrived, their mom had made a pot of hot cocoa and while the tree was drying out in a corner they sat around and enjoyed their sweet, hot treat with some home-made cookies.

When Richard closed his eyes today, he could still smell that Christmas tree in their kitchen and taste that delicious hot cocoa. He remembered his mom sitting by herself next to the stove smiling. That was one of her last Christmas holidays with them, he recalled. She died like so many others at that time from complications in the birth of his youngest sister. Christmas was never quite the same in their household after that.

– Excerpted from Christmas in Newfoundland 3 by Mike Martin, Ottawa Press and Publishing, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 

About the Author

Mike Martin was born in St. John’s, NL on the east coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays have appeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in the United States and New Zealand.

He is the award-winning author of the best-selling Sgt. Windflower Mystery series, set in beautiful Grand Bank. There are now 16 books in this light mystery series with the publication of Friends are Forever. 

A Tangled Web was shortlisted in 2017 for the best light mystery of the year, and Darkest Before the Dawn won the 2019 Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award. All That Glitters was shortlisted for the LOLA 2024 Must Read Book of the year award.

Some Sgt. Windflower Mysteries are now available as audiobooks and the latest Darkest Before the Dawn was released as an audiobook in 2024. All audiobooks are available from Audible in Canada and around the world.

Mike is Past Chair of the Board of Crime Writers of Canada, a national organization promoting Canadian crime and mystery writers and a member of the Newfoundland Writers’ Guild and Capital Crime Writers.

His latest book is Christmas in Newfoundland 3: Sgt. Windflower Holiday Tales.

Visit Mike’s website at www.sgtwindflowermysteries.com. Connect with him at X and Facebook.

Sponsored By:

🔥 Hot New Release! The Voice I Couldn't Ignore by Johanna Frank #newrelease

 

Title: THE VOICE I COULDN'T IGNORE

Author: Johanna Frank

Publisher: Marrow Publishing

Pages: 279

Genre: Christian Nonfiction/Memoir

Format: Paperback, Kindle

The Voice I Couldn’t Ignore—a work of creative nonfiction, a story when God forewarned, held and healed.

In a vision, God told Hanna he was taking her child. Seven years later, he did.

This story leads the reader through an ancestral prophecy, profound visions, and a mother’s journey through symbolisms in the Holy Land. It shares how she guided her teenage daughter through a devastating diagnosis while wrestling with God, and reveals her spiritual rebuilding of an unshakable house of faith in the aftermath of loss.

Read sample.

The Voice I Couldn’t Ignore is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

Descendant Hanna, Canada, 1982

“A heavy blade, it comes straight at me.”

I might as well have been naked. Afraid of judgment. All this explaining felt like a confession. But the air in my chest lightened up somewhat, so I urged myself to continue.

“Slices the air like it’s on some kind of mission. With some kind of wild purpose. Always a direct aim at my line of sight. The swoosh, I can’t hear it. The whole business… all silent and invisible.”

Imagined, all in my head? I could only wish.

“I duck and bury my face.” No reason to mention how badly my hands would shake or how my shoulders could jerk about to recover from the attack. “Then nothing. There’s like—nobody—just air.”

“And just how often does this ax-head attack you?” The counselor leaned his forehead my way.

Finally, someone believed me.

But when he arched bushy brows and hovered his pen atop a page full of doodles in the thick notebook balanced on his lap, I wasn’t so sure.

“Often enough. Sporadic,” I answered anyway. “Three or four times a week. Then a month will go by, nothing.” I shrugged and ogled the exit. This was a mistake.

“And just where do these plaguing manifestations happen?” He tucked his chin into his neck and fingered an ear.

Plaguing manifestations? Nope.

I gripped the armrests, squeezed their width as though they were stress balls. He thought I was making this up. He was getting paid, so shouldn’t he at least indulge me?

The counselor crossed his legs, displaying shoes only loser-like, middle-aged men should wear. “Er, occurrences,” he rectified.

All right, I’d play. But I had to think.

“Mostly when I’m just walking. Several times, I guess, when I’m on the bus coming home. And, once, when I was driving my mom’s car. Nearly went off the road.”

It was a good question, and the answer enlightened my curiosity. Kinda odd that I was always leaving one place and heading to another. The ghostly ax-head struck only when I was in transition. Did that mean anything? Why hadn’t I realized that before?

He nodded, his note scribbling and foot wiggling in sync. “In other words, might your mind have been free to wander when walking, busing it, driving, perhaps?”

“I suppose.” Good call. Point for him. Though the jury was still out. Was someone finally taking me seriously?

“Do you believe these are attacks to harm you?”

His gaze remained on his scrawling penmanship, ignorant of his probe’s unfitting casualness.

Of course, they are. Duh! Why else would someone swing an ax at my head?

I shifted, the oversized chair feeling more like a prison. Claustrophobia was setting in. And a burn spread from where I’d rubbed my palms on the armrests. I scooted back to compose with a deep breath. “Yes, I believe they are.” He’d catch on to my monotone voice. Still, he didn’t look up.

Ah, crap. He didn’t believe me. I could barely afford this appointment. If I called it quits now, would I get billed for less time?

“Are you disappointed in yourself, Hanna?” He paused and seemingly decided on a more direct line of inquiry. “Have you ever wanted to self-harm?”

Now he peered above his glasses? Self-harm! Nope again. He wasn’t getting it—at all. An invisible force of some kind, a someone I couldn’t see, was whacking me so hard I physically jolted. I was here because of these so-called occurrences—or whatever they were. My throat tightened and responded to a hard swallow. How to reply?

A deep stomach sigh. A few scratches at the back of my neck. Then I again eyed my coat hanging on the peg. My stocking feet planted themselves with an unmistakable firmness as I pushed away from ribbed corduroy material designed to relax its occupants.

“It’s not like that,” I snipped. Beads of sweat formed, thanks to the internal warmth now climbing clear to my forehead. Despite the man’s kind promptings to please sit down and stay until his billing hour was up, it was no use.

He didn’t get me. So much for this guy.

– Excerpted from The Voice I Couldn’t Ignore by Johanna Frank, Marrow Publishing, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Johanna Frank is a Canadian author based in Southern Ontario, where she lives with her husband, and delights in time with her children and grandchildren. Her award-winning A Lifeline Fantasy Series includes The Gatekeeper’s Descendants (Readers’ Favorite 5-Star Medalist), Jophiel’s Secret (Winner of the 2023 General Market Suspense Fiction Award and the Christian Speculative Fiction Award), and Here Lyeth (finalist for The Word Guild’s 2025 Christian Speculative Award). 

In addition, Johanna has introduced a creative memoir, a deeply personal work that explores God’s abundant mystery and healing. 

Known for her lyrical, imaginative style rich in symbolism and spiritual depth, she invites readers into otherworldly adventures and real-life reflections that illuminate belonging, faith, and the unseen.

“Frank, one of Canada’s emerging authors in spiritual fantasy, walks a fine line between general fantasy and faith-based fiction. Her work aims to innovate and transcend traditional boundaries, catering to a hungry market of curious readers who don’t want to be preached to but are open to exploring spiritual themes through fantasy.” – Sheri Hoyte, Reader Views

Her latest book is the powerful Christian nonfiction, The Voice I Couldn’t Ignore.

Connect with Johanna at Facebook, Goodreads, Instagram and BookBub.

 

Two souls trapped in one body must work together to solve multiple murders before it’s too late – before they can no longer tell where one of them ends and the other begins…

 

Title: KNOT OF SOULS

Author: Christine Amsden

Pages: 384

Format: Paperback, Free on Kindle Unlimited

Genre: Contemporary Fantasy/Paranormal

Two souls, one body …

When Joy wakes up in an alley, she knows three things: she was brutally murdered, she has somehow come back to life … and she is not alone. She’s been possessed by an inhuman presence, a being that has taken over her dying body. That being is powerful, in pain, and on the run from entities more dangerous than he is.

Shade, a Fae prince on the run, didn’t mean to share the body he jumped into. Desperate and afraid, accused of a murder he didn’t commit, he only sought a place to hide—but if he leaves Joy now, he faces discovery and a fate worse than death.

Forced to work together to solve multiple murders, including her own, Joy and Shade discover hidden strengths and an unlikely friendship. Yet as their souls become increasingly intertwined, they realize their true danger might come from each other … and if they don’t find a way to untangle the knot their souls have become, then even the truth won’t set them free.

Knot of Souls is a stand-alone buddy love fantasy that forces two very different beings to work together … and come out stronger on the other side.

Knot of Souls is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

Joy

The first thing I realized, after I died, was that my body could walk and talk and no longer needed my help for any of it. I was in there, able to look through my eyes and hear through my ears, but even the simple task of aiming my gaze had slipped outside my control. I was a passenger inside my own mind, an observer along for the ride.

Kristen had been right, I thought numbly as I struggled to make sense of my new reality. Had it only been lunchtime today when she’d told me I’d never get ahead if I didn’t learn to assert myself? “Take control of your life,” she’d said, “or others will take it for you.”

She couldn’t have been thinking of anything quite so literal. Whatever was happening to me, it wasn’t because I’d failed to advocate for a promotion at work or refused to ask out a coworker.

Right?

My body reached my car and slid behind the wheel. A rattled thought—not my own—cursed as it tried to understand how the contraption worked. How much can cars have changed in only a century? Visions accompanied the thoughts, memories—again not my own—of a classic car, gleaming black and elegant, its top down, my bobbed hair whipping around my face as I laughed with glee, a white-faced young man at my side gripping the door, begging me to slow down. I did not.

Which brings me to the second thing I realized, after I died: I was no longer alone inside my own mind.

Whoever was in there didn’t seem to have noticed me yet. Fine. I slid into the smallest corner of my brain I could find, ignoring the intruder as they struggled to figure out how to work an automatic transmission. Maybe they’d get frustrated and give up and go find someone else’s body to possess.

Holy shit! I’ve been possessed by the ghost of someone who died in like 1930.

But why?

I tried to remember what had happened, but the images danced just out of reach. I recalled that the night had been unseasonably cold for October, the chill biting through my inadequate jacket as I hurried to my car, parked in a garage two blocks away from the shelter where I’d been volunteering. Hugging my arms around my torso for warmth, I took a shortcut through an alley and …

There was a noise. I’d startled, my heart pounding in my throat, already on edge because of the argument.

Wait. Back up. There’d been an argument. That seemed significant, but my scattered thoughts couldn’t piece it together as yet, not when a bodily intruder fumbled at the gearshift of my two-month-old Hyundai Accent with only fifty-eight “low monthly payments” left to go.

Low is such a relative word.

– Excerpted from Knot of Souls by Christine Amsden, Christine Amsden, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

 

Christine Amsden is the author of nine award-winning fantasy and science fiction novels, including the Cassie Scot Series.

Speculative fiction is fun, magical, and imaginative but Christine believes great speculative fiction is about real people defining themselves through extraordinary situations. She writes primarily about people, and it is in this way that she strives to make science fiction and fantasy meaningful for everyone.

In addition to writing, Christine is a freelance editor and political activist. Disability advocacy is of particular interest to her; she has a rare genetic eye condition called Stargardt Macular Degeneration and has been legally blind since the age of eighteen. In her free time, she enjoys role playing, board games, and a good cup of tea. She lives in the Kansas City area with her husband and two kids.

Author Links

Website ➜https://christineamsden.com/wordpress/

X ➜ http://www.x.com/christineamsden 

Facebook ➜https://www.facebook.com/pages/Christine-Amsden-Author-Page/127673027288664?ref=hl

Christine Amsden is giving away 2 epub sets of the 4-book Cassie Scot series (gifted through BookFunnel! This includes Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective, Secrets and Lies, Mind Games and Stolen Dreams

Terms & Conditions:

• By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
• Two winners will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive one set of the 4-book Cassie Scot series each (four books total).
• This giveaway starts July 1 and ends September 26.
• Winner will be contacted via email on September 26.
• Winner has 48 hours to reply.

ENTER TO WIN!

a Rafflecopter giveaway  

 

Sponsored By:

Will Logan and his friends expose the lies that have haunted him for years, or will they be Dragged Down Deep into the swampy, secretive underbelly of a town that guards its mysteries with deadly intent?

 

 

 

Title: Dragged Down Deep

Author: Michael Okon

Pages: 331

Genre: Action Adventure/Monster

Logan Osborne has spent his life chasing the shadows of the past.

As a child, he watched helplessly as his father was snatched from a fishing boat by what he swore was a mermaid. No one believed him then. No one believes him now.

Determined to prove that mythical creatures exist, Logan is drawn back to the small coastal town where his nightmares began after another mysterious disappearance stirs the waters.

Teaming up with his pragmatic colleague Elliot Sheppard and his fiercely loyal friend Penny Swanson, Logan dives headfirst into an adventure packed with danger and deception. As they dig deeper, the trio faces resistance at every turn—a secretive agency with its own agenda, a suspiciously unhelpful police force, and Logan’s old flame, who may know more than she’s letting on.

What they uncover is far darker and more terrifying than Logan ever imagined: the truth about his father, the secrets of Minatuck, and the horrifying reality of the Mermaid of the Hamptons.

Will Logan and his friends expose the lies that have haunted him for years, or will they be Dragged Down Deep into the swampy, secretive underbelly of a town that guards its mysteries with deadly intent?

Dragged Down Deep is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

The creature was indistinct in the dark night. A howl split the air, the noise somewhere between the lolling of a cow and with the shrillness of a siren. It traveled through Logan, making the fillings in his teeth hurt. If an elephant and a Tasmanian devil had a baby, it would have sounded like this, Logan thought inanely.

     It began to move purposely toward them, its arms outstretched. Its eyes shone like blazing yellow neon, mesmerizing them. There was no place to hide in the tidal pool. Logan spun, pushing Elliot toward the parking lot. 

     “That was no turtle,” Elliot gasped. 

     Logan ran, his heart pumping feeling like it would jump from his chest. “Run!” he yelled.

     They splashed heavily in the shallows; their feet weighted with water. Clamoring through the tide, Logan slipped, Elliot pulled him under the armpit propelling him forward. Their clothes were drenched, glued to their perspiring bodies, their feet heavy with trapped fronds and weeds. They made it onto the beach.

     Logan was afraid to look behind them. “Move this way!” Logan pointed to a perimeter of shrubs lining the sand.

     They took off, their arms slashed by the tall grasses. Elliot clutched his phone. He turned for a second, but Logan grabbed the back of his shirt to drag him through the reeds. “Not now, you idiot!” Logan screamed.

     They could hear the heavy splashes of the creature following them. They burst out of the grasses, running at full speed onto the sandy area toward the car. The reassuring outline of the jeep greeted them at the same time a club grazed Logan’s shoulder. 

     Logan heard Elliot grunt with pain, the distinct sound of a fist meeting flesh echoing in the still night. Ham-sized hands gripped Logan’s shoulder, spinning him to plant a fist that landed under his right eye. The night went silent but for the sound of the roaring of the blood in his head. He felt the trickle of blood leak onto his lips after his nose connected with what felt like a brick wall. He was on his knees, looking down at two sets of biker boots, silver skulls dangling over the insteps right in front of him. 

     Logan caught sight of another pair of footwear, polished traditional lace-ups. He pushed himself up on all fours, reaching out and grabbing the legs connected to those shoes. He clutched a handful of beige trousers, the gabardine material slipping in his hand. He recognized the uniform. He felt rock-hard muscles underneath the pants leg. His assaulter kicked, Logan’s head snapping back to see a field of spinning stars. Their attackers were laughing. Logan was outraged. 

     They wouldn’t be laughing when the mermaid from hell pounced on them, he thought grogilly. He opened his mouth to let them know they were about to be surprised by the alleged wild dog or imaginary alligator but decided he’d have more satisfaction watching them wrestle with whatever was following them from the marsh. 

      A strong hand picked him up by the hair and another pounded his ribcage. He winced, his vision blurred, trying to see when the creature from the Black Lagoon would arrive like the cavalry.

     Except that pursuer never arrived. It appeared that the monster had more brains than he and Elliot put together. 

     Logan listened vainly for whatever was following them to break through the marsh, but it must have been scared off. He chose that time to swing wildly, his fist finding a face that must have been hewn of stone. The impact stunned him more than the beating his ribs were taking. His arm went numb from knuckles to elbow. 

     His cheek landed in the dirt while Elliot was thrown against the car wheel. A baseball bat made contact with the windshield, showering them with shards of glass. The bat sailed through the air to smash the side mirror. More glass rained down on them.

Logan lay on his face, every bone in his body aching, his head heavy. He heard new footfalls, lighter one, followed by the sound of a plank of wood connecting with a body.

“Ow!” one of his attackers howled. 

Next he heard several grunts, and the hard slam of bodies falling. 

Logan picked up his head, his vision fuzzy to see two figures in wetsuits beating the crap out of his assailants. Tilting his head, he squeezed his eyes, discerning one was decidedly curvy and feminine. “Penny?” he asked, the word garbled by his swelling lips.

Running feet penetrated the fog that was swallowing his brain. Everything sounded muffled, as if he could barely hear it. There was a loud ringing in his ears.

“Done,” a woman’s voice came to him from far away. “Cowards,” she spat. 

“What do you want to do with these too?” a male voice asked. 

“Leave them. They’re harmless.”

“The boss isn’t going to be happy.”

“I said leave them,” the voice commanded. 

Logan tried to rise, groaned and fell down into the wet sand. “Elliot?” his voice a thread.

“He’s coming around. We have to go!” a man’s barked.

The cold touch of a wetsuit made his skin goosebump as a person knelt next to him. He tried to roll over. Logan felt a soft hand brush back his hair. “Stop tilting at windmills, you silly man. Go back to school.” He caught sight of a smile with a mole on the upper lip.

Logan felt the blood drain from his head as it fell onto a cushion of grass. 

     “Did you see them?” Logan spit out a mouthful of dirt. He was sprawled on a small mound and couldn’t move.

     “My eye is swollen shut,” Elliot’s voice was gravelly. “I feel like I got hit by a train. Am I imagining it, or were we rescued by the creature?”

      “It wasn’t the creature.” Logan was breathless with the effort, wondering if he should share what he thought. “I think it was Aimee.”

“Aimee!” Elliot coughed. “What’s she doing here?”

Logan ignored the question; he was wondering the same thing. 

     Rising painfully to his knees he crawled over to where Elliot was propped against the wheel of the jeep. “Anything broken?”

     “Only my pride. I feel like I’m trapped in an eighties crime drama. What are you doing?” he asked Logan, who was pulling his phone from his pocket with a battered hand.

     “I’m calling the police.”

     “I think that was the police,” Elliot retorted weakly. “What happened to your mermaid?”

     Logan growled, “She’s not my mermaid.” 

     “Did you get any pictures?” Logan asked.

     “Let me see with my good eye.” Elliot squinted as he looked at his screen. “Nothing good. Maybe it was one of those goons setting us up.”

     Logan shrugged. “I couldn’t see much, but I know it was that monster, Mitch and his playmates,” he paused and continued, “And Aimee and some other guy.”

      “You think she was working with them?”

      Logan shook his head. “No, they beat the crap out of them. Mitch practically crawled out of here.”

      “Are you sure it was Aimee? This is a major complication.”

      Logan didn’t answer. He spoke into his phone. “Pen? Can you swing by the marsh, and Penny… don’t say anything to anyone.”

– Excerpted from Dragged Down Deep by Michael Okon, Chelshire Publishing, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

Watch the Trailer

 

https://youtu.be/VqH-lDxB_94

About the Author

 

Michael Okon is an award-winning and best-selling author of multiple genres, including paranormal, thriller, horror, action/adventure, and self-help. He graduated from Long Island University with a degree in English and then later received his MBA in business and finance. Coming from a family of writers, he has storytelling in his DNA. Michael has been writing from as far back as he can remember, his inspiration being his love for films and their impact on his life. From the time he saw The Goonies, he was hooked on the idea of entertaining people through unforgettable characters.

Michael is a lifelong movie buff, a music playlist aficionado, and a sucker for self-help books. He lives on the North Shore of Long Island with his wife and children.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.michaelokon.com

Twitter ➜ https://www.x.com/IAmMichaelOkon

Instagram ➜ https://www.instagram.com/IAmMichaelOkon

 

Sponsored By: