The Coffee Pot Book Club

I’m delighted to welcome A.M.Swink and her new book, Gradarius, to the blog with a fab excerpt #romanequestrian #romanequestrianseries #gradarius #ancienthistoricalfiction #romanfiction #equestrianfiction #boudicca

I’m delighted to welcome A.M.Swink and her new book, Gradarius, to the blog with a fab excerpt #romanequestrian #romanequestrianseries #gradarius #ancienthistoricalfiction #romanfiction #equestrianfiction #boudicca

I’m delighted to welcome A.M.Swink and her new book, Gradarius, to the blog with a fab excerpt

Excerpt from Gradarius

The fresh air did little to improve Decimus’s brooding humour. He stalked down the dim street, forcing Luciana to hasten to keep pace. She skirted around a timber drain dividing the roughly cobbled path and followed the centurion’s hulking shadow towards the quay. He turned to avoid the singing and laughter emanating from one of the nearby warehouses and made his way to the bridge spanning the Tamesis. Luciana, catching her breath, halted alongside him.

She gazed at him curiously. Decimus’s flinty blue-green eyes took in the collection of homes and businesses built up on the islands dotting the river’s far side. She touched his arm and felt him stiffen. She lowered her eyes to the bridge and took in the dark waves lapping beneath them.

‘Strange place to build a town,’ he murmured, shaking his head. ‘It’s nothing but a swamp.’

‘The waters here are sacred. Their boundary between the living and the dead is thin.’ Luciana folded her arms, shuddering within the folds of her wolfskin cloak. ‘It is too powerful for any one tribe to claim. But of course, you Romans have the hubris to believe you can.’

Decimus ruefully shook his head. ‘It was just a ford and an earthen fort when I visited last.’

She cocked her head at him. ‘I didn’t know you’d visited Londinium before.’

His expression hardened. ‘During the invasion.’

She heard finality in his tone and let the matter drop. She picked up one of his broad palms in both her own, twining her fingers through his. ‘Has the air cleared your head?’

He didn’t answer, eyes still locked upon the far side of the bridge. His grasp tightened as he squeezed her hands.

She felt the cool breeze whipping up from the quay and rested her head on his shoulder. A few pins fell free of her tresses, dropping into the inky waters below.

‘I’m sure you’d celebrate…if we were to withdraw from Britannia and leave you be,’ he finally said.

She clung tighter to his side and sighed. ‘I wouldn’t be unhappy, if that’s what you mean. Though I wouldn’t have any freedom to enjoy.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I’m your property, remember? I go where you bid me.’

He wound his free arm about her, drawing her into his chest. ‘You know I want nothing more than to go back to Rome.’ A lump rose in his throat. ‘But I can’t go yet. The legions can’t go yet. Not after everything…everything that’s been done.’

She gazed up at him. ‘You realise that everything that’s been done is precisely why we want you to leave?’

He lowered his head, brushing his whiskers against her brow. ‘Do you?’

‘Oh, Decimus.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I don’t know what I want anymore.’

She tore herself away and shuffled along the pier, tightly clasping her cloak to her. The thought of her mother and the Cornovii women huddled in their prison cell sprang to her mind and she shuddered. I have failed them. I’ve already turned traitor…and for what?

The wheel of Taranis burned against her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut. This is Gaius Nerfinius all over again. You’ve learned nothing, Luciana. Nothing. Do you think he loves you? Do you really love him so much that you would throw your freedom away? He is a Roman, after all…

The wind whipped about her, freeing the rest of her locks. They tumbled across her shoulders in a golden cascade, ends pulled like a flag by the gust.

‘Luciana.’

She turned to see Decimus still rooted to his spot, gazing after her. The moon peeked from behind the heavy clouds darkening the sky, illuminating all the emotion in his eyes that his stern face belied. Her pulse quickened, renewing the bond that drew her irresistibly to him. She tucked a fluttering strand behind her ear and smiled. I suppose many have turned traitor for worse.

She took a step towards him, though he stayed her with a hand. ‘Let me watch you a moment longer.’

Luciana straightened, tossing her head. She gazed at the water, letting the wind buffet her about. Decimus slowly walked to her. She glowed under the admiration shining from his eyes.

He tentatively reached out and brushed her cheek. ‘How can you be real?’

She warmed at his touch and stepped into his embrace. She took his grizzled cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Her thumb brushed the angry scar curving out of his beard, ignoring the way he winced and shifted away from her touch. Luciana recaptured his lips, savouring his hot breath and the aroma of spiced stew that clung to him. Decimus responded warmly, pressing her to him and cradling her slim form as it melded into his.

When they finally broke off to catch their breath, Luciana met his eyes. ‘It matters not what policy your emperor decides. For as long as I am yours, I go wherever you go.’

Here’s the blurb

WAR IS ON THE HORIZON

Sworn enemies turned lovers, Decimus and Luciana face new challenges that put their love to the test. Decimus, haunted by his past, struggles with his feelings in the present. Luciana, when confronted with her old friend Boudicca’s struggles, questions which of her loyalties is more important: her loyalty to Decimus, or her loyalty to her people? When sent to investigate a Roman traitor in Decimus’s legion, both will have to decide which side of the coming battle they’ll be on.

Rome and Britannia are hurtling toward a reckoning. Will Decimus and Luciana find a way forward together before war tears them apart?

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Meet the Author

A.M. Swink, the author of the award-winning Roman Equestrian series, grew up in Dayton, Ohio, obsessed with two things: books and horses. After a childhood of reading, writing, showing, and riding, she moved to Lexington, Kentucky to complete three degrees and work as a college professor of reading and writing.

She’s travelled extensively around Europe, exploring ancient sites and artefacts relating to the Iron Age and Roman era. She is fascinated by our connection to the past and the ancestral tether that draws us back into the mists of time.

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Check out the first book in AM Swink’s series

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I’m delighted to welcome Lady Harriet (Harriet Taggart) and Dr. Peter Stephenson and their book, The Witch of Godstow Abbey, to the blog #TheWitchOfGodstowAbbey #HistoricalMystery #MurderMystery #theladyandthedoc #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Harriet Taggart and Peter Stephenson and their book, The Witch of Godstow Abbey, Murders in the Abbey Series, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt

From Chapter 1 – Bones of the Innocent

The autumn sun was starting to set, signaling that it was time to leave the garden, perform their ablutions and go to the chapel for Vespers. But before they could move, Isabel’s voice rang out from the far side of the garden, screaming again and again, “Sister, Sister, come quickly!”

“What on earth is it, child? Are you injured?”

Isabel was breathless. “No, Sister, no. But you must come. Hurry!” And the screaming broke out once more, raw with terror.

Agnes walked rapidly around to the other side, where Isabel was on her hands and knees, a garden claw waving wildly in her hand. There on the ground in front of Isabel, half buried in the soft, freshly-turned earth, were three tiny bodies.

Pale and shaking, Isabel could scarcely speak. She tried to catch her breath, but to no avail. “These are b… b… babies, sister. Wh.. wh… who would kill newborn infants like this?

Here’s the Blurb

A widowed academic investigating strange historical practices gets drawn back in time and into the year 1299 in Oxford. Join a cast of compelling characters-nuns, novices and outsiders-as they battle the forces of darkness. Enter their struggle against evil, clandestine organizations. Join their life-threatening fight to protect each other, be willing to die for each other, and occasionally fall in love.

Will heroic love and righteous pursuit of justice triumph? Will the horror-inducing villain be found out and overthrown? Or will the courageous troop of those fighting for what is good be overpowered and taken captive?

Set in Oxford, England, in the year 1299, a struggle takes place between the sisters of the local convent and a strange, terrifying local evil society. They discover a secret organization of men who perform unspeakable deeds. The lives of several sisters are in danger.

Join Mother Alice, Sister Agnes and Isabel, along with Lady Beatrix and Lady Harriet, as they confront and do battle with an evil, secret society intent on attacking them, taking over the convent and sacrificing a young woman.

If you love stories that keep you turning pages while imparting fascinating accounts of the past, this latest mystery in the “Murders in the Abbey” series will tingle your spine.

Praise for The Witch of Godstow Abbey:

‘Richly atmospheric and quietly gripping, “The Witch of Godstow Abbey” is a worthy addition to your bookshelf.’

~ Yarde Book Promotion, 5* Editorial Review

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Meet the Authors

Lady Harriet holds the legal title “Lady of the Manor,” as defined under English law, and traces her ancestry to Charlemagne’s royal line.

A lifelong reader and devoted genealogist for nearly fifty years, Harriet has always had a passion for stories, whether they are buried in the past or found in the pages of a good book. She is the co-author of We Are Manx, a self-published family saga that explores her Manx heritage and the history of the Isle of Man in rich detail.

She’s also a photographer who prefers being behind the lens, a word lover addicted to word games, and a fan of wooden jigsaw puzzles. She has traveled extensively, with a deep appreciation for history, diverse cultures, and the unexpected joys that can be found away from home. Her career spanned volunteerism, real estate, and systems administration, but now she happily devotes her time to more creative pursuits.

As she puts it: “I’m old enough for Medicare, but not quite old enough to get a birthday card from King Charles—were I a Brit.”

The Witch of Godstow Abbey, written in partnership with Dr. Peter Stephenson, marks her first (but certainly not last) foray into historical fiction. With photography, she creates books of images; with storytelling, she creates images made of words.

Dr. Peter Stephenson has written or contributed to over twenty books, all but one of which are non-fiction technical books. He has published over 1,000 papers in technical journals, technical trade journals, and peer-reviewed legal journals. One of his peer-reviewed papers has over 15,400 downloads.

In addition to writing, Dr. Stephenson has been playing blues and Americana music for 70 years. It is through that performing, and after earning a PhD from Oxford Brookes University, that he was given the appellation “Doc” by the owner of one of his performance venues.

Having visited Oxford several times and being employed by a UK company in nearby Malvern, it was only natural that he would set his tales in Oxfordshire. His academic experience in Oxford town sealed the deal and resulted in his first historical novel, The Whispering Dead of Rewley Abbey—Book 1 in the “Murders in the Abbey” series—which reached the Amazon Kindle bestseller list and won a Pencraft award for literary excellence in the winter of 2025. He now writes with his collaborator and writing partner, Lady Harriet.

Dr. Stephenson lives with two Savannah cats on a pond in Auburn Hills, Michigan. Starting a “new” career at the age of 80, Doc reckons that he has only about the next 20 years to finish the series and retire – again – perhaps this time to Oxford.

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I’m delighted to welcome Brodie Curtis and his book, Showboat Soubrette, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #AmericanHistoricalFiction #HistoricalAdventure #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Brodie Curtis and his book, Showboat Soubrette, to the blog with a guest post.

Guest Post

SHOWBOAT SOUBRETTE is my third historical novel set in the riverboat era on the lower Mississippi River prior to the Civil War. To learn about the period, I dug into a variety of research sources that are listed below. I truly got energized to tell my story by taking a drive along the Big Muddy, from Hannibal down to Natchez, stopping frequently at historical sites, and along the river itself. Had to feel it!

Brodie Curtis Looks Upriver from Natchez

UNDERSTANDING THE ANTEBELLUM DEEP SOUTH:

Romanticism of the Antebellum American Deep South could be found in the pageantry of the attire worn by the privileged, and in the heady adornment of passenger-hauling riverboats that paddle-wheeled the Mississippi. But the period exhibited almost unbelievable cruelty in its institution of slavery and in the bigoted attitudes of the times. And in its violence. Perhaps the first title listed below, Olmsted’s The Cotton Kingdom illuminates these contradictions best.

Olmsted, F. (1861). The Cotton Kingdom: A Traveller’s Observations on Cotton and Slavery in the American Slave States 1853-1861.

McDermott, J. (“Edited with an Introduction and Forward”) ( 1968). Before Mark Twain: A Sampler of Old, Old Times on the Mississippi.

Stowe, H.B. (1852). Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

Northup, S. (1853). 12 Years a Slave.

Devol, G. (1894). Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi.

Jones-Rogers, S. (2019). They Were Her Property: White Women as Slave Owners in the American South.

James, D.C. (1968). Antebellum Natchez.

Kelleher Schafer, J. (2009). Brothels, Depravity, and Abandoned Women: Illegal Sex in Antebellum New Orleans.

Sharp, A. and Sharp, G. (2009). Antebellum Myths and Folklore: A Search for the Truth.

Grant, R. (2020). The Deepest South of All: True Stories from Natchez, Mississippi.

RIVERBOATS:

Is there a more majestic image than a multi-decked steamboat gliding on the river, smoke billowing from its stacks while water clicks over its paddles? Yet idyllic portraits belied the dangers, from collisions and boiler explosions to snags, sandbars, fire and ice and other in climate conditions. Thousands of boats ended up at the bottom of the river. Mark Twain’s memoir of his cub pilot days and old images in many of the sources below sparked my imagination.

Twain, M. (1883). Life on the Mississippi.

Powers, R. (2005). Mark Twain: A Life.

Brodie Curtis took in the Mark Twain Attractions in Hannibal MO

Shapiro, D. (2009). Historic Photos of Steamboats on the Mississippi.

Graham, P. (1951). Showboats: The History of an American Institution.

Allen, M. (1990). Western Rivermen, 1763-1861: Ohio and Mississippi Boatmen and the Myth of the Alligator Horse.

Lloyd, J. (1855). Lloyd’s Steamboat Directory, and Disasters on the Western Waters.

Hawkins, V. (2016). Smoke up the River: Steamboats and the Arkansas Delta.

Berger Erwin, V. and Erwin, J. (2020). Steamboat Disasters of the Lower Missouri River.

Sandlin, L. (2010). Wicked River: The Mississippi When it Last Ran Wild.
Buck, R. (2023). Life on the Mississippi: An Epic American Adventure.

Here’s the Blurb

FROM STAR SHOWBOAT SINGER
TO PIRATE PREY ON THE WICKED RIVER!

Showboat singer Stella Parrot’s star rises in the Antebellum South with every sold-out performance along the lower Mississippi River. When a river pirate viciously assaults her, new friends Toby Freeman and John Dee Franklin foil the attack. However, the pirate’s family is bent on revenge.

Stella, Toby, and John Dee escape their riverboat with able assistance from young cub pilot Sam Clemens, only to be pursued by the notorious Burton Gang. As the trio runs for their lives, mortal perils await at every turn: a fierce storm, high-stakes gambling confrontations, deadly combat, and a cotton boat up in flames. Stella, a Cherokee Indian, and Toby, a free Black man, and their friend White man John Dee endure relentless racial prejudices and injustices in the gritty underbelly of the Wicked River while fleeing to New Orleans—where the Burtons will be waiting!

SHOWBOAT SOUBRETTE’s fast-paced lower river adventure chase features romantic showboat scenes and is unsparing in its exploration of the bigoted and sometimes lawless riverboat era.

Praise:

“Captivating characters? A fast-paced storyline? Cameos from historical figures? Brodie Curtis checks all the boxes in his novel set along the Mississippi River on the eve of the Civil War. Well done.”

Tim Wendell, author of CASTRO’s CURVEBALL and REBEL FALLS

“SHOWBOAT SOUBRETTE is a novel that transcends a simple river chase, unfolding instead as a richly textured portrait of time and place where beauty and brutality are forced to coexist. Brodie Curtis has crafted a story that entertains without simplifying, thrills without trivializing, and ultimately delivers a powerful testament to courage and solidarity on the margins of history…For readers who crave historical fiction with pace and teeth, this novel will be a compelling and unforgettable ride.”

THE HISTORICAL FICTION COMPANY

“This was an unputdownable read for me!…It’s an optimistic picture of a shocking time in American history….SHOWBOAT SOUBRETTE is ideal for fans of historical adventure fiction, especially fans of Twain himself and Percival Everett’s JAMES.”

Ruth F. Stevens, author of STAGE SEVEN and THE SOUTH BAY SERIES Books 1 and 2

“Readers of historical fiction will love SHOWBOAT SOUBRETTE…a river adventure down the great Mississippi to New Orleans in the 1850s when racial tension is ripe in the Old South…an adventure worthy of Mark Twain’s pen… Curtis is a master of description and atmosphere.”

Tyler R. Tichelaar, PhD and award-winning author of THE MYSTERIES OF MARQUETTE

“(E)xtensive research draws the reader in and carries them along on this fast-paced adventure, blending interesting historical facts with compelling fictional characters. I thoroughly enjoyed the journey and recommend this voyage down the mighty Mississippi.”

Kris Abel-Helwig, author of THE HERO SERIES and the upcoming RULE OF ODDS.

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Meet the Author

Raised in the Midwest, Brodie Curtis was educated as a lawyer and left the corporate world to embrace life in Colorado with his wife and two sons.

Curtis is the author of THE FOUR BELLS, a novel of The Great War, which is the product of extensive historical research, including long walks through the fields of Flanders, where much of the book’s action is set. His second novel, ANGELS AND BANDITS, takes his protagonists into The Battle of Britain. Curtis’ third novel is set on a Mississippi Riverboat prior to the Civil War.

A lover of history, particularly American history and the World Wars, Curtis reviews historical fiction for the Historical Novels Review and more than 100 of his published reviews and short takes on historical novels can be found on his website: brodiecurtis.com.

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I’m delighted to welcome Heidi Eljarbo and her new book, Whispers in the Snow,to the blog #HistoricalMystery #RomanticMystery #HistoricalRomance #SweetRomance #BlogTour #NewRelease #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Heidi Eljarbo and her new book, Whispers in the Snow, Heartwarming Christmas Series, to the blog.

Here’s the Blurb

Of course, a young woman in Norway during the late nineteenth century can be a successful amateur sleuth, and goodness knows, Cornelia’s days are always more exciting when she can devote her time to resolving a local mystery.

Cornelia Gran is a dedicated daughter, friendly and kind; although, she has an exorbitant amount of curiosity. She devours Arthur Conan Doyle’s magazine articles and tries to follow the fictitious Sherlock Holmes’s investigative examples, but her fascination with solving puzzles always gets her into mischief.

Each morning, Cornelia reads the newspaper, looking for a conundrum to solve. Searching for clues—and then chronicling her discoveries—thrills her. She certainly finds those activities more entertaining than taking her grandmother’s advice and attending one Christmas ball after another in search of a husband.

But chaos and danger turn Cornelia’s quiet days upside down when her attempt to find information about the owner of a nearby abandoned cottage takes her into dangerous territory. As winter winds rattle the windows and swirl snowdrifts against the doors, she faces off with a ghost, gets in trouble with the police, and finds herself staring down danger without thinking of the consequences. In the middle of it all, she meets Simon and is captivated by his charm, good looks, and personality.

Meanwhile, a real killer is after her, and he won’t stop until he gets information she doesn’t have! Christmas, with all its cheery festivities, hygge, and family traditions, has never been more threatened. Cornelia must call on all her investigative skills, not only to stop the ruination of her family’s holiday, but also to make certain Simon and his aunt keep what belongs to them. And maybe, just maybe, the amateur sleuth will discover the meaning of true love.

Set in a fictitious town in Norway in 1891, this cozy historical mystery is perfect for those who enjoy curious and determined women sleuths, clean and wholesome romance, and the discovery of buried secrets in an abandoned house.

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Meet the Author

HEIDI ELJARBO grew up in a home full of books, artwork, and happy creativity. She is the author of historical novels filled with courage, hope, mystery, adventure, and sweet romance during challenging times. She’s been named a master of dual timelines and often writes about strong-willed women of past centuries.

After living in Canada, six US states, Japan, Switzerland, and Austria, Heidi now calls Norway home. She lives with her husband on a charming island and enjoys walking in any kind of weather, hugging her grandchildren, and has a passion for art and history.

Her family’s chosen retreat is a mountain cabin, where they hike in the summer and ski the vast white terrain during winter.

Heidi’s favorites are her family, God’s beautiful nature, and the word whimsical.

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I’m delighted to welcome Paula Dáil and her book, Red Anemones, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #FamilyLegacy #JewishHistory #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Paula Dáil and her book, Red Anemones, a story of struggle, resistance and hope, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt 1

Elyria, Ohio

January 1971

If you aren’t who I think you are, then who are you?

“Dad – what are we doing here?” I ask my father, while shivering in a bitter wind, insistently spitting snow at us. We are standing side by side in a place neither of us has ever heard of, can’t pronounce, and never expected to find ourselves. As I speak, I stare at a pile of partially hidden, freshly dug dirt. Fifty yards away, gigantic chunks of frozen water crashing onto Lake Erie’s shore sound like ice cubes stuck in a meat grinder.”

“I told you – we’re here to bury your mother,” my father answers through chattering teeth. He moves closer, linking his arm through mine, seeking to share each other’s warmth as we move toward a synthetic grass tarp, obscenely green against the dormant ground beneath it. A slowly moving hearse becomes visible from the left.

“I think we’re in the wrong place. This headstone says Rachael Rebekkah Rosenblum Barlow, and my mother’s name was Charlotte,” I point out.

“Until forty-eight hours ago, I thought her name was Charlotte, too. Apparently, we were both wrong,” my father replies in a barely audible whisper punctuated by a deep sigh.

“Look at the headstones next to hers. Mikael Jacob Weiss and Sarah Rebekkah Michal Weiss, with no dates and an inscription, ‘May their memories be for a blessing.’ Another says Nathalie Avigail Weiss Rosenblum d.1934 and Eitan Noem Rosenblum d.1938. Do you know who any of these people are?”

“No idea.” The two-word answer rides on a deep exhale and a slight shake of my father’s head. We pass the time waiting for the hearse by staring out across the partially frozen lake, mesmerized by the icebergs floating rhythmically back and forth, until a wave hurls them toward the shore. An idling backhoe, partially hidden behind a large, dormant tree downslope from the hill where we stand, hums a steady dirge.

“According to her lawyer, your mother, Charlotte Rose Barlow’s legal name was Rachael Rebekkah Rosenblum Barlow. These others must be related to her somehow; otherwise, there’s no reason for her to want to be buried in this godforsaken place, and she was very insistent about it,” my dad explains as the hearse pulls up. He takes my hand, and together we walk closer to the tarp. The driver and another solemn-faced man get out and walk toward us, putting on gloves. They peel back the artificial turf, exposing the hole underneath, then walk back to the hearse, where two men wearing black overcoats and fedoras are extracting a wooden, sarcophagus-shaped coffin. A small nameplate is affixed to the flat top.

“That can’t have been easy to find,” I remark, referring to the European-style box containing my mother’s remains.

“Your mother was very specific about what she wanted.”

Here’s the Blurb

Moving among generations of a German-Jewish-American family, Red Anemones is a poignant exploration of the intricate bonds, untold secrets, and unspoken legacies our ancestors bestow upon us.

Natalie Barlow’s journey of self-discovery begins when her estranged mother’s sudden death releases a storm of unrevealed family secrets reaching back to pre-WWI Germany.

As Natalie navigates the complexities of her newly discovered Jewish identity and her ancestral heritage, she comes face-to-face with the early 20th-century German immigrant experience, which included strong anti-German sentiment and deep antisemitism that prevailed across America.

Through diaries and letters her mother saved, Natalie learns of the personal costs this ugly reality extracted from generations of her own family. Ultimately, she must confront the question of her own identity.

Like Israel’s red anemones carpeting the western Negev and Dvira Forest of the Judean foothills year after year, Natalie is determined, no matter the personal costs, to find the courage, resiliency, and passion to embrace the changes that bring new beginnings. Inspired by a true story.

Praise for Red Anemones:

““Red Anemones” by Paula Dáil weaves a powerful narrative inspired by a gripping true story, infusing the text with authenticity and emotional resonance. This book is an absolute must-read for fans of the genre, as it expertly blends enthralling storytelling with fully realised characters and a rich plot.”

~ Yarde Book Promotion, Editorial 5* Review

“Poignant, disturbing, and historically and dramatically riveting.”

~ Kirkus Reviews

“As I read, I found myself utterly taken by Dáil’s writing. Her prose has rhythm and patience, tight, deliberate, and quietly powerful. She writes with tenderness but never sentimentality, allowing emotion to rise naturally from her characters’ choices. I could almost feel the weight of Nathalie’s conflict between family duty and self-determination, between love and freedom. The language is lived-in, grounded, and full of quiet heat.”

~ Literary Titan, 5* Review

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Meet the Author

A native Californian, Paula Dáil is an emerita research professor of social welfare and public policy and award-winning author. Widely published in the social sciences, she has also been recognized for her non-fiction and fiction writing, both under her own name and her pen name, Avery Michael.

She is the recipient of first or second place Readers Favorite, Reader’s Choice, Independent Publisher, Bookfest and Literary Titan awards, a Booklist Starred Review and several other five-star reviews, including Goodreads, The Book Commentary, and Independent Book Review. Two of her books received the Non-fiction Book of the Year Award from the Council for Wisconsin Writers. She holds a PhD from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and lives with her husband and dog in the Great Lakes Region of the Upper Midwest.

Red Anemones is her tenth book.

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I’m delighted to welcome Catherine Hughes and her new book, Therin Lies the Pearl, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #NormanConquest #MedievalHistory #AngloSaxonHistory #EarlyMedieval #StMargaret #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Catherine Hughes and her new book, Therin Lies the Pearl, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt 3

Her voice lifted in confusion. “Father?”

Margaret had been breathing in the musky smell of the woodlands and the flowering anemone that lined their path when she saw her father’s body, as it was positioned in the saddle, tilt further and further toward the side.

That morning the family had left the inn and began traveling toward Favreshant, following a path made fragrant by the flowers and plants newly opened for spring. The weather did much to improve Margaret’s spirits as the sun shone brightly upon them from a clear, blue-domed sky. An occasional puffy cloud floated across the heavens but never did it linger long enough to diminish the warmth that embraced her. Walking with a bemused smile upon her face, Margaret surrendered to the charms of the countryside, relishing in the way the light accentuated the many shades of green that colored the leaves, the bushes, and the flower stems. A random look toward the front of the cavalcade snapped her pleasant daydream when she noticed the rider near the head of the train—her father—was about to fall.

Abandoning her usual sauntering walk, she broke into enormous strides trying to close the gap between her father and herself. The rapid turnover of her feet upon the soil alarmed the flock of yellowhammers who had been flitting about the blossoms. To escape the disruption, they rose higher and hovered above, waiting for the tumult to settle.

“Father!”

Her shout coincided with the loud thud of his body landing on solid ground, his head coming to rest in a patch of wildflowers.

Before Margaret reached him, she could see Gerhard was already there. He had carefully removed young Edgar from the saddle and then ran toward Edward, dropping to his knees for closer inspection.

Margaret skidded to a halt and took the same posture on the other side of her father’s fallen body. Hesitantly, she repeated again, “Father…?”

His lips parted but no sound issued forth.

After a quick glance in her direction, Gerhard moved closer to Edward, placing one hand beneath his master’s neck and bringing his own closer. “Edward! Edward, can you hear me?” Nothing. “Blink your eyes if you can hear me.” Gerhard’s voice cracked with worry, his usual composure gone. Because Gerhard had leaned so closely over her father’s head, Margaret had to slide further up toward his shoulder to be able to see whether or not her father had comprehended Gerhard’s words.

To her relief, she saw his eyelashes flutter—he understood! He was still there, he was still with them!

Gerhard continued. “Can you move your legs, my lord? Your arms? Just blink to let me know if you still have some control over your limbs.”

The words hung in the air as other people soon gathered around the group of three upon the ground. Margaret heard Edgar sniffling somewhere outside the circle and felt Harold, the priest, and his two brothers glaring down upon them from their seats. None of them had dismounted; instead, they surrounded the trio like a band of

highwaymen waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. To Margaret’s dismay, her father’s eyelids did not flicker.

She studied Gerhard and watched the changing color of emotion move across his face—from confusion to concern, from fear to speculation, from suspicion to anger. When they both noticed the parting of her father’s lips, their hopes lifted. Together, she and Gerhard leaned in closer.

Her father’s eyes remained open but unfocused, and he whispered gently, more so to the air than to them. “No … feeling …my legs. My feet… cannot feel them… cannot move them… nothing there.”

Gerhard was about to respond but stopped when he saw Edward gather his breath once more. Unable to inhale deeply, he spoke in shallow exchanges. “Dizzy … since morn…could not get… legs…to keep hold … of the horse… chest feels … full… crushed.” He paused here for a lengthier break.

Margaret could feel her eyes welling up, her lashes wet with moisture.

“Cannot… take …. in … air.” With his gaze still focused at some point in the far distance, he whispered in a hushed tone, “Twas… foul… play.” Silence and he moved no more.

Margaret felt tears stinging her eyes. They burned her skin as they tumbled down her face until they left small, individual droplets of water on her father’s tunic. She watched as Gerhard placed his hand over Edward’s face, his fingers gently extending to close each eyelid.

Tiny bright-blue flowers with yellow centers formed a soft, decorative pillow where his sleeping head lay. Reminded of Jesus’ promise when he created these delicate blossoms, Margaret trusted that the Blessed Virgin would watch over her father’s soul. And she also knew that her father—like the flower itself—was urging her to “forget-me-not.”

Here’s the Blurb

Normandy, 1064

Celia Campion, a girl of humble background, finds herself caught in a web of intrigue when Duke William commands her to work as his spy, holding her younger sister hostage. Her mission: to sail across the sea to Wilton Abbey and convince Margaret, daughter of Edward the Exile, to take final vows rather than form a marriage alliance with the newly crowned king to the North, Malcolm III of Scotland. Preventing a union between the Saxons and Scots is critical to the success of the Duke’s plan to take England, and more importantly for Celia, it is the only way to keep her sister alive.

In this sweeping epic that spans the years before and after the Conquest, two women from opposite sides of the English Channel whisper across the chasm of time to tell their story of the tumultuous days that eventually changed the course of history. As they struggle to survive in a world marked by danger, loss, and betrayal, their lives intersect, and they soon come to realize they are both searching for the same thing–someone they can trust amidst the treachery that surrounds them.

Together, their voices form a narrative never before told.

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Meet the Author

Award winning writer, Catherine Hughes, is a first-time author who, from her earliest years, immersed herself in reading. Historical fiction is her genre of choice, and her bookshelves are stocked with selections from ancient, Medieval, and Renaissance Europe as well as those involving New England settlements and pioneer life in America. After double-majoring in English and business management on the undergraduate level, Catherine completed her Master’s degree in British literature at Drew University and then entered the classroom where she has been teaching American, British, and World Literature at the high school level for the last thirty years.

Aside from teaching and reading, Catherine can often be found outdoors, drawing beauty and inspiration from the world of nature. Taking the words of Thoreau to heart, “It is the marriage of the soul with nature that makes the intellect fruitful,” Catherine sets aside time every day to lace up her sneakers and run with her dog in pre-dawn or late afternoon hours on the beaches of Long Island. When her furry companion isn’t busy chasing seagulls or digging up remnants of dead fish, she soaks in the tranquility of the ocean setting, freeing her mind to tap into its deepest recesses where creativity and imagination preside.

In Silence Cries the Heart, Hughes’s first book, received the Gold Medal in Romance for the Feathered Quill 2024 Book of the Year contest, the Gold Medal for Fiction in the 2024 Literary Titan competition, and the 2024 International Impact Book Award for Historical Fiction. In addition, the Historical Fiction Company gave it a five star rating and a Silver Medal in the category of Historical Fiction Romance. The book was also featured in the February 2024 Issue 31 of the Historical Times magazine and was listed as one of the Best Historical Fiction Books of 2024 by the History Bards Podcast. Therein Lies the Pearl is her second venture into the world of historical fiction.

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I’m delighted to welcome Carol Anne Dobson and her book, Storks in a Blue Sky, to the blog #HistoricalRomance #HistoricalFiction #Devon #Alsace #TheCoffeePotBookClub #BlogTour

I’m delighted to welcome Carol Anne Dobson and her book, Storks in a Blue Sky, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt

He was introduced plainly as Jean Luc de Delacroix, a member of the Royal Society, whose studies were following in the path already trodden by Mark Catesby. She was aware of a ripple of anticipation going through the audience, which had become so numerous that people were having to stand at the back. She realised it was now too late to escape and sat in resignation, angry at her own recklessness.

His voice was strong and clear and, in spite of her agitation, she felt herself drawn almost hypnotically into the world he was describing; his years of travelling distilled into an eagle’s eye view of a vast, river- scored land, lake-jewelled and mountain-ridged. A tree-quilted countryside; spruce, firs and pines, dark green against glittering ice and snow; woods of sweet gum, cedar, red oak, maple and walnut; red, white and black mangroves sinuously emerging from brackish, southern swamps; and everywhere embroidered with flowers, whose very names were colour-rich; black eyed Susans, purple fringed orchids and golden rod.

She saw flocks of passenger pigeons, so numerous they blackened the sky, blotting out the sun, making oak tree boughs break under their weight. She saw the wood bison in the Appalachian forests and felt the earth shudder beneath migrating herds of caribou. Exotically plumed birds flew around her and she marvelled at the Carolina parakeet and the pintera, a wood pecker with a beak like ivory. Rattlesnakes, copperheads, water moccasins, scorpions and tarantulas made her shiver, and the sing-song quality of native words like ‘Cherokee,’ ‘Okeechobee’ and ‘Pahayokee,’ all added to the beauty and strangeness of the picture in her mind. He spoke quickly, almost without pausing for breath, often looking in her direction, and she noticed that his clothes appeared to have taken on a life of their own. His cravat was askew, his coat hung oddly, his hair had escaped from its tie and was hanging, dark and thick, onto his broad shoulders. She felt an over-riding urge to straighten his garments and present him, perfectly attired, to this gathering of sombrely dressed men, every one of whom was
wearing the customary wig.

“And now may I show various specimens of plants to you from the New World, and one very special creature,” he concluded his talk and watched as footmen carried in plants in tubs of earth and a small crate.

“Can I ask how many men died in your travels? Was it a very dangerous undertaking?” a man enquired.

“We did have to take many risks in the wilderness, it’s true, but no one died as a result. Two men were killed in battle and another man died from the smallpox.”

At the suggestion that he and his men had been engaged in fighting, she noticed that the room grew quiet. She could feel the hostility directed towards him that she had encountered at the Vinnicombe’s and suddenly understood her naivety. He had been fighting on the wrong side, she realised. He was partly French and had been fighting against the English. She was
horrified and her spirit was almost at one with the general sentiment in the room. He, however, completely ignored any undercurrent in the gathering and walked over to her.

“Madam, I hope I have entertained you. May I now reveal my surprise.”

He held out his arm and she was forced to accompany him to the wooden crate. He carefully opened the side and she looked in amazement at the largest spider she had ever seen. Its eyes were protruding, its segmented legs were long and hairy and it could only be described as indescribably ugly.

Speechless, she stared at the monster, which was about the size of a sparrow.

“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling like a father at his new-born child. “I thought you might.”

“Yes,” she murmured, unable to take her eyes off the fascinating creature. People crowded round, jostling and pushing. Gasps of astonishment could be heard, followed by a hushed silence.

She had a vision of Miss Vinnicombe and the snake, and in a moment of premonition knew exactly what was going to happen. The next second, several ladies, and one gentleman, screamed so piercingly that the windows rattled. Pandemonium ensued. Handkerchiefs were frantically flapped to give air to the hysterically affected ones and in all the commotion she saw the black boy sidle up to the crate, then poke its occupant with a jewelled pin he
extracted from his turban.

“No!” she shrieked, but it was too late, as the spider was propelled out of his home and landed awkwardly on the floor. People dashed out of its way, opening a path for it, somewhat in the manner of Moses and the Red Sea. Jean Luc lunged forwards, but it skittered sideways through peoples’ legs, making a clattering noise as it ran over the wood floor.

She had never seen a room in such an uproar and she looked crossly at the black child, who had taken refuge behind his master. The obese lady had fallen to the ground and lay twitching, her canary-yellow stomach protruding like a mountain, high above the rest of her body.

She ran to the door as that had seemed to be the direction in which the spider had been heading. The air was cool and fresh on her face and she gulped it in gratefully. A quick scrabbling movement of black by the sheep pen attracted her attention and she thought she could see the spider. Then, to her amazement, one of the blond horsemen who had accompanied them and who was standing by the wicker fence, gave a strong kick with his booted foot and sent the object flying among the sheep.

She ran up to him. “What have you done!” she screamed, beside herself with anger.

“How dare you!”

He looked insolently down at her and she realised that Jean Luc de Delacroix might well be the only person in his entourage who was happy to travel with snakes, spiders and raccoons. His iron-grey eyes looked familiar. His strong, large body blocked her view of the sheep pen and it suddenly came to her that she was looking at a younger version of Heinrich Scheyer. Her fear of him made her wary of challenging the man any further. She pushed past and with a complete disregard for her silk dress, plunged into the mud-caked, evil smelling flock of sheep who scattered in panic and huddled against the far side of the pen.

In the earthen space now left bare, she could see the forlorn, trampled on body of the spider. It was clearly dead. Its legs were twisted oddly and it had lost an eye. She picked it up, cradling it in her hand and left the enclosure, glaring at the Alsatian soldier as she did so.

Here’s the Blurb

A historical romance played out between the wild coast and moors of North Devon and the mountains and river-crossed plain of Alsace.

The beautiful, red-haired Sarah Durrant is an uneducated servant who takes the place of her mistress when she suddenly dies at Lynmouth as they are travelling across the remote wilderness of 18th century Exmoor. Her origins are a mystery. She only knows she is illegitimate and possesses a gold locket which contains a miniature of a woman who resembles her.

North Devon at first proves a sanctuary from the violence of her past but then the French aristocrat, Jean Luc de Delacroix, a soldier and a scientist, arrives from the New World; the local activities of smuggling and wrecking surface; her life becomes a tangle of love, deception and fear.

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Meet the Author

Carol Anne Dobson is a qualified teacher and librarian with a B.A. in English, French and Russian. She has lived in Devon for most of her life, and North Devon provides the setting for much of Storks in a Blue Sky.

Alsace in France came to be a second home when her daughter lived there for six years and it is this Germanic region of France which also features in the novel.

In 2009 Storks in a Blue Sky won the David St John Thomas Fiction Award.

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I’m delighted to welcome Lisajoy Sachs and her book, Bright One, to the blog #BrightOne #HistoricalFiction #WWII #JewishHistoricalFiction #Holocaust #FamilyHistory #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Lisajoy Sachs and her book, Bright One, Book 1 in the Bright One Series, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt

“You must remember this,” Yosef continued, his voice low and steady, his eyes holding theirs. “History doesn’t begin or end with one moment. It’s like a slow avalanche, with pressure building over time until it all comes crashing down. And when you look at the world around you now, with the current events happening right here in our town, look at the posters, the speeches, the violence that’s creeping into everyday life here in Romania… we can feel the ground shifting again. Even though it is a different time, it holds the same tensions.”

Here’s the Blurb

When desperate choices mean the difference between life and death.

Inspired by true events, Bright One tells the story of Jetti Finkelthal, Lisajoy Sachs’ great-grandmother. In Czernowitz, Romania, this young Jewish mother is forced to face impossible choices as the world begins to collapse around her. As antisemitism tightens its grip and war edges ever closer, Jetti holds fast to her daughter, Berta, with the fragile belief that love and courage might still carve a way through the darkness.

Heartened by her grandmother Berta’s letters, photographs, and family oral histories, Sachs revives a story both intimate and universal—stitched with the fabric of daily life, the pull of memory, and the quiet heroism of women who refused to yield to despair. Told with vivid, sensory detail, the novel unfolds as if you are walking beside the characters, witnessing what they see and sharing in what they feel.

Through Jetti’s resilience and sacrifices, Bright One reveals the enduring strength of family ties and the shadow of trauma that lingers across generations. It is a story of survival, of loss, and of the unbreakable connection between mother and child.

For readers captivated by historical fiction that lingers long after the final page, Bright One offers a profoundly human portrait of love tested by history’s darkest hours.

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Meet the Author

Lisajoy Sachs is a dedicated writer and advocate for the preservation of history and culture through storytelling. Born and raised on Long Island and in the Catskills Mountain region of New York, Lisajoy’s early years were shaped by the picturesque landscapes of mountains and the sea. Growing up, she embraced her family’s deep connection to community and tradition.

Her professional journey is as dynamic as her personal interests. With a diverse career spanning Fine Arts, Interior Design, Metal Smithing, Lapidary, and the craft beer and hospitality industries, she has cultivated a deep and varied understanding of her many fields of interest.

Ms. Sachs holds several prestigious degrees and certifications, including a Master’s Degree in Fine Arts from the City University of New York, a Bachelor of Fine Arts from Alfred University, and an Accredited Jewelry Professional (AJP) certification from the Gemological Institute of America. She is also a graduate of the Hop and Brew School at Yakima Chief Hops and holds a CiceroneCertified Beer Server© credential, underscoring her expertise and passion for the craft beer industry.

As a writer, Lisajoy’s work spans a variety of themes, from beer culture and community engagement to her most prized projects in historical fiction. Her writing reflects a profound appreciation for history, particularly focusing on how personal stories intertwine with larger cultural narratives. She has published multiple articles celebrating the craft beer industry’s ability to foster diversity and unity and continues to explore new ways to inspire her readers through her storytelling.

A deep passion for history, coupled with a fascination with family ancestry and vivid storytelling, is reflected in Lisajoy’s creative projects. Her fiction often delves into richly detailed settings and explores characters navigating the complexities of their times. Whether writing about the harrowing journey of her family in pre-WWII Europe or capturing the resilience of individuals in the face of change, Lisajoy brings depth, authenticity, and emotional resonance to her narratives.

Outside of her professional life, Lisajoy is an avid cyclist and skier, often traveling in her camper van with her partner and standard poodle Hops exploring new adventures. She has recently relocated to the Catskills Mountains, a decision influenced by her desire to embrace a balanced, family and community-focused lifestyle.

Lisajoy’s dedication to her craft, her community, and her passions makes her a multifaceted creative force. Through her writing and professional endeavors, she continues to bridge the gap between history, culture, and the shared human experience.

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I’m delighted to welcome Jennifer Wizbowski and her book, Poinsettia Girl, to the blog #PoinsettiaGirl #HistoricalFiction #RenaissanceFiction #TheCoffeePotBookClub #BlogTour

I’m delighted to welcome Jennifer Wizbowski and her book, Poinsettia Girl, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt

Margarita closed the door to her bedroom and entered the hall with some of her spunk back in her step. She needed those afternoon naps more than she had in all her years in the Pietà. Every day, when early afternoon came, she’d feel her shoulders slumping and her patience waning, ready to shut out the worries around her and blow her bedside candle out.

She would never admit that to anyone. It would make her sound old, and then there would be all their fussing. While her schedule no longer consisted of classes, private lessons, or choral rehearsals, it was as full as the girls in new lace collars. She still had hers, that lacy shawl, a little more cream than stark white- one could never stop the cycle of aging. She would wear it when special occasions called for it: a full choir for a dignified guest or a celebration, but mostly, it hung in her closet, a trophy of her femininity, not the public image of virginal and ethereal but the honest image: persevering, unruffled and wise.

The Pietà took careful measures in recording the names, titles, entrances, and exits of every woman who spent any time behind its protective walls. Some listings were short, poor, sick babes that only lasted a night or diseased women who spent their final days cared for with the dignity society did not give them—others, like herself, whose decades were sub- marked by all her different roles in the Pietà. The path was different for everyone. Some women did not possess the musical predisposition to train for the Coro, which is why they tested every foundling’s aptitude by the age of eight.

The less musically inclined girls trained in textile arts or medicine, with the potential of working in the Pietà’s ground-floor ventures in their later years. The hospital administered vaccines and cared for the unwanted, while the textiles area had a successful laundering and hat-making business.

In her current assignment, she was listed as Discrete, a nice way of inferring: a retiree with no more obligations to the Coro—and as Margarita internally joked, whom they decided to keep around a bit longer instead of shipping off to a convent. Indeed, she was worth more than the average old woman slippering around.

Here’s the Blurb

Poinsettia Girl is based on the story of Agata de la Pieta, an orphan musician of the Ospedale de la Pieta.

Ten-year-old Agata’s world is shaken at the sudden death of her mother. Left only with her egregious father, a working musician in Venice, her ailing grandmother sends her to the well-known orphanage, hidden from everything she’s ever known.

Agata auditions for the conservatory style music school where music is both salvation and spectacle. Hidden behind ornate metal grates, adorned with poinsettias in their hair, the singers are veiled in mystery, their ethereal music drawing noble audiences, including gilded young men who see them as treasures-not only for their sound but as coveted marriage prizes.

Just as she reaches the height of her musical journey, a marriage proposal from someone outside the audience tempts her with the promise of a new life-a return to the old neighborhood she’s longed for and a home she barely remembers.

Torn between the music that has defined her and the hope of belonging to a family, Agata must confront the most profound question of her life: is her purpose rooted in the music that shaped her, or in the love that might free her?

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Meet the Author

Jennifer Wizbowski spent her childhood days lost among the spines of her favorite books. Inspired by the daffodil fields of Wordsworth and the babbling brooks of Shakespeare, she earned her bachelor’s in English literature, a minor in music, and a secondary teaching credential, then wrote freelance for local business journals, taught in classrooms, and authored a Teen and Tween column for a parent magazine—all while raising her family.

As those years ended, she knew it was the right time to pursue her lifelong aspiration of bringing her own books to life. She now devotes herself to illuminating everyday women’s stories often lost in the shadows of history, revealing how they became heroines of their own time and place.

Portrait by Valentina Photography at Macardi Images

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I’m welcoming Max Eastern and his new historical thriller, Red Snow in Winter, to the blog #RedSnowInWinter #HistoricalThriller #SpyThriller #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour #BookBlast #TheCoffeePotBookClub

Here’s the blurb

Haunted by the memory of a secret love affair in Nazi-occupied Prague, American intelligence officer Julius Orlinsky is caught in a deadly web of espionage when a routine assignment in Washington, D.C., disintegrates into murder, attempted murder, and blackmail.

Determined to uncover the truth, Orlinsky’s quest takes him from the halls of the Pentagon to a prisoner-of-war camp in Maryland, and, finally, to the city of Budapest under siege. It’s a shadow world where a lifetime of loyalty can be undone by one secret revealed. Orlinsky soon learns the personal stakes couldn’t be higher. His investigation threatens to expose a betrayal by the woman he believed was the love of his life.

But Orlinsky has no choice. Charged with an assignment critical to ensuring America’s safety, he must confront the ghosts of his past as he navigates a terrain of double agents, war-hardened German and Russian soldiers, and fanatics who will stop at nothing to silence him.

I'm welcoming Max Eastern and his new historical thriller, Red Snow in Winter, to the blog #RedSnowInWinter #HistoricalThriller #SpyThriller #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour #BookBlast #TheCoffeePotBookClub @MaxeasternNYC @cathiedunn
@maxeastern @thecoffeepotbookclub

Praise for Red Snow in Winter:

“Red Snow in Winter is a gripping, ingenious cat-and-mouse political thriller. A young U.S. Army Intelligence officer finds himself caught up in a deadly espionage battle involving Americans, Nazis, and Russians that he can only survive by finding out who to trust–and also by finally uncovering the truth about long-buried secrets from his own shadowy intelligence past. Smart writing, a high stakes plot, and fascinating historical background. Author Max Eastern really delivers the goods in this must-read page-turner of a novel.“

— R.G. Belsky, author of the Clare Carlson mystery series

“I found a great new-to-me author in Max Eastern. I love how he brought his characters to life and made the situations in this novel seem as though they were happening in front of me.”

— Terrie Farley Moran, national bestselling co-author of the Jessica Fletcher Murder She Wrote mystery series

“Red Snow is a well-paced thriller capturing the paranoia and moral complexity of WWII’s twilight hours. This is spy fiction that respects its readers’ intelligence, offering a nuanced exploration of loyalty, betrayal, and a little romance.“

–Emilya Naymark, author of Behind the Lie

“A masterclass in espionage and moral ambiguity, it’s an atmospheric ride of a thriller with plot twists worthy of Hitchcock.“

–Mally Becker, author of The Turncoat’s Widow

“This is a fast-moving, page-turning espionage thriller set just after the war. Highly recommended for anyone who wants to be kept up at night!“

–Deborah Swift, author of The Shadow Network

“Max Eastern attacks his story with dry aplomb and a stripped-down journalistic surety, yet it’s got more switchbacks than San Francisco’s Lombard Street, and every curve is taken with his foot on the gas.“

— Timothy Miller, author of The Strange Case of the Pharaoh’s Heart

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This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.

Meet the author

The stories his father told him about his time as an intelligence officer in World War II inspired Max Eastern to write Red Snow in Winter. He has written about history for several magazines and online publications, with subjects ranging from Ulysses Grant and Benedict Arnold to Attila the Hun.

His modern noir novel The Gods Who Walk Among Us won the Kindle Scout competition and was published by Kindle Press in 2017.

A lawyer specializing in publishing, he resides in New York State. To learn more, go to maxeastern.wordpress.com.