©2024 V.J. Allison Art. All Rights Reserved. NO USE PERIOD!

©2024 V.J. Allison Art. All Rights Reserved. NO USE PERIOD!
©2025 V.J. Allison Art. No use without written permission from designer.

Friday, December 19, 2025

Tour Stop: High Couch of Silistra The Silistra Quartet Book 1 by Janet Morris

 

 


High Couch of Silistra, first of the notorious Silistra Quartet, brings us to a realm where thought alters probability, where creativity is inextricably linked to the urge to own and dominate, and where the universe itself is amenable to a focused mind.

Rooted deeply in humanity’s mythic past yet unaware of the planet Earth, High Couch of Silistra begins one woman’s mythic quest for self-knowledge – with surprising results.


High Couch of Silistra

The Silistra Quartet Book 1

by Janet Morris

Genre: Dystopian Epic SciFi Fantasy Romance



Biology shapes reality...

One woman's mythic search for self-realization in a distant tomorrow...

Her sensuality was at the core of her world, her quest beyond the civilized stars.

Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler.



"Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure." - Charles N. Brown, Locus Magazine



"The amazing and erotic adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in tomorrow's universe" 

- Frederik Pohl



"The best single example of prostitution used in fantasy is Janet Morris' Silistra series... Estri's character is most like that of Ishtar who describes herself as "'a prostitute compassionate am I'" because she "symbolizes the creative submission to the demands of instinct, to the chaos of nature ...the free woman, as opposed to the domesticated woman". Linking Estri with these lunar and water symbols is not difficult because of the moon's eternal virginity (the strength of integrity) links with her changeability (the prostitute's switching of lovers). [...]

Morris strengthens the moon imagery by having Estri as a well-keepress because wells, fountains, and the moon as the orb which controls water have long been associated with fertility, [...] In a sense, she is like the moon because she is apparently eternal, never waxing or waning except in her pursuit of the quest; she is the prototypical wanderer like the moon and Ishtar. She is the eternal night symbol of the moon in opposition to the Day-Keepers [...]

 At her majority (her three hundredth birthday), she is given a silver-cubed hologram letter from her mother, containing a videotape of her conception by the savage bronzed barbarian god from another world. [...] If Estri's mother then acts as a bawd, willing her lineage as Well-Keepress to her daughter, then Estri's great-grandmother Astria as foundress of the Well becomes a further mother-bawd figure when she offers her prophetic advice in her letter: "Guard Astria for you may lose it, and more. Beware of one who is not as he seems. Stray not in the port city of Baniev ...look well about you, for your father's daughter's brother seeks you". Having no brother that she knows of does not stay Estri from undertaking the heroic quest of finding her father."

 - Anne K. Kaler, The Picara: From Hera to Fantasy Heroine

 

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I am Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi, former Well-Keepress of Astria on the planet Silistra. I have begun three times to tell this story, and three times I have been interrupted. This, then, the fourth attempt, will surely prove successful.

Perhaps you have heard of Silistra, the planet that was catalyst to the sexual revolution in the year twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and four Bipedal Federate Standard Time, or of the Silistran serums that lengthen life and restore vitality in virtually any bipedal life form, or perhaps you have at some time contracted the services of a Silistran telepath, or a precognitive, or a deep reader. It is possible that you have in your own home the scintillating, indestructible web-cloth woven by our domestic arachnids, or have seen holograms of our golachits, those intelligent builder-beetles who exude from their mouths a translucent, superhard substance called gol and create from this gol, under the guidance of the chit-guards, the formidable and resplendent structures in which we live and work.

And perhaps you have seen no web-cloth, no gol, never been ill, and are not interested in sex. If so, you may never have heard of Silistra.

I carry Silistra in my mind’s eye, here under this alien sun. In my mind alone can I look out the east window of my beloved exercise hall in Well Astria and see the sun’s rising burst upon the jewel-like towers and keeps of the Inner Well and a thousand rainbows arc and dance in the greening sky.



Best selling author Janet Morris began writing in 1976 and published more than 30 novels, many co-authored with her husband Chris Morris or others. She contributed short fiction to the shared universe fantasy series Thieves World, in which she created the Sacred Band of Stepsons, a mythical unit of ancient fighters modeled on the Sacred Band of Thebes. She created, orchestrated, and edited the Bangsian fantasy series Heroes in Hell, writing stories for the series as well as co-writing the related novel, The Little Helliad, with Chris Morris. She wrote the bestselling Silistra Quartet in the 1970s, including High Couch of Silistra, The Golden Sword, Wind from the Abyss, and The Carnelian Throne. This quartet had more than four million copies in Bantam print alone, and was translated into German, French, Italian, Russian and other languages. In the 1980s, Baen Books released a second edition of this landmark series. The third edition is the Author's Cut edition, newly revised by the author for Perseid Press. Most of her fiction work has been in the fantasy and science fiction genres, although she has also written historical and other novels. Morris has written, contributed to, or edited several book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on nonlethal weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and national security topics.

Janet said: 'People often ask what book to read first. I recommend "I, the Sun" if you like ancient history; "The Sacred Band," a novel, if you like heroic fantasy; "Lawyers in Hell" if you like historical fantasy set in hell; "Outpassage" if you like hard science fiction; "High Couch of Silistra" if you like far-future dystopian or philosophical novels. I am most enthusiastic about the definitive Perseid Press Author's Cut editions, which I revised and expanded.'

  

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Thursday, December 18, 2025

Tour Stop: Sonja Gunter's Holiday Romance Audiobooks

 



Curl up with the best of both worlds: modern-day romantic twists on your favorite holiday classics, now available in cozy audiobooks!


Avoiding My Merry Birthday

by Sonja Gunter

Genre: Contemporary Holiday Romance, Magical Realism


What would life be like to share your birthday with millions of people?

Gloria White was born on December 24th—Christmas Eve—and is celebrating her 35th birthday when things go terribly wrong. Single and with no love interest in sight, she leaves work only to find her car won’t start. The arrival of the tow truck brings Nick Klaaws, who she has known since grade school, as the driver.

Shocked at seeing him, she loses her balance, falls and hits her head. This brings on a visit from a ghost resembling her boss, Mr. SC Rouge. They travel back in time, where he shows her that her soulmate has been in front of her the whole time and takes her to two possible futures.

Once back in real time, will fate allow Gloria to make the right choices for love?

 

**Now available as an audiobook!**

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Ending the call, she manually unlocked the car door and got into the driver’s seat. She tried the ignition, just for the heck of it, but the engine did not even make a grinding noise. She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, and cried out, “Ouch.”
It hadn’t been worth the effort. She massaged her hand. Deciding to make the most of her time, she checked Facebook to see if anyone had left her a birthday message there. When none came up, she clicked her off her phone and sat in a lonely silence.
An unusual bright light reflected in her rear-view mirror. Squinting, she tried to make out who had joined in the parking lot. Was that the tow truck? How could help have arrived so soon? A low hum of music seeped through the air. Frowning, she tilted her head for a better angle to hear where it was coming from. 
“Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh...” 
Grimacing at the driver’s choice of songs, Gloria slid out of the driver’s seat to watch a red tow-truck with a wreath on the grill come closer. The Christmas music was now blaring so loud she was tempted to cover her ears. The driver must really like the age-old song, she thought.
The truck stopped in front of her car, and she bent over to retrieve her purse from the car.
 “Ho, ho, ho. I heard you’re having a problem.”
The deep voice struck a chord to a long-ago memory from her childhood. 
“Aren’t you into the holiday spirit?” She straightened and turned. “Sorry you had to come out on Christmas Eve—”
Gloria flung her arms outward to gain some balance as she felt herself falling. “Ohhhh, nooooo...”
Unable to evade the expected outcome, she held out her hand as she hit the ground hard. Her body jerked and then fell backward, causing her head to hit the pavement. Pain like a mother migraine surged from the back of her head to her forehead. She felt strong arms wrap around her upper body, lifting her. Before the expected blackness took over, she was able to fixate on a familiar pair of blue eyes. 
“Nick?”




Who’s Been Naughty or Nice

by Sonja Gunter

Genre: Contemporary Holiday Romance, Magical Realism



Northern Polar Printing Company’s President, Zane Ashcroft, is in love with the Vice President, Annie McGrath. From their first encounter, both knew they were destined to be together. At the annual Christmas party, Zane, who dresses up as Santa, intends to propose to Annie after dinner. A recent argument concerning Nick, the janitor, and a shocking development thwarts his intentions.

Will Annie get that long awaited chance at love and happiness and risk being on Santa’s naughty and nice list?

 

**Now available as an audiobook!**

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“There’s no need for you to come inside. We need a break from each other—time to think about our relationship.”

He heard her choke over the last words. She still didn’t look at him.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and left the car. He watched her walk to the front door where she paused. He held his breath as he waited for her to turn, but she didn’t. She opened the door and went inside, closing it behind her.

Zane hit the steering wheel. Granting her request was the hardest thing he’d done in a very long time. Light snow began to fall as he drove across town to his home. Several ideas came to him on how to resolve their argument.

Flowers? No, too predictable. Box of Norman Loves Chocolate? No, too cheesy.

More things came to mind, but as the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas” played on the radio, it triggered a plan. He’d use cards as the twelve days before his proposal. The numbers would work if he started tomorrow. He’d have to swing by Walgreens before work.

His two-story brick house loomed in front of him. It was not his home any longer. He’d been spending so much time at Annie’s and making her home theirs. Opening the door, cold greeted him. He cranked up the thermostat and went into the kitchen, starting the Krups’ coffee machine. It spitted and hissed. He reached for a coffee cup as the doorbell rang.

“Coming!”

Spilling the coffee he’d just poured, he hurried to the front door, unsure who it could be.

“Mr. North?” Zane eyeballed a red limo parked in the street. It stood out like a beckon against the grayness.

“Zane, I hope I’m not disrupting anything.”

“No, no. Come on in.” He held open the door. “Sorry about the chillness, I turned up the heat.”

“A little cold isn’t going to hurt me.”

“I don’t have much in the house to offer you. I haven’t been grocery shopping in days. I just made coffee, would you like a cup?”

“That works for me.”

Zane led him into the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time Mr. North had shown up at his doorstep, but tonight of all times was odd. He poured another cup of coffee and wiped up the earlier spillage from the counter top.

“I know it’s late, but I flew here right after concluding business with Mr. Moonracer. I felt not everyone was happy at my announcement.”

“You’re right. Annie… Ms. Ashcroft, didn’t like being kept out of the loop,” Zane confessed and sat in one the high back chairs.

“Oh, I see.”

Leaning on one elbow, Zane rested his head on his hand. “As a matter of fact, she’s fuming.”

Mr. North laughed and went to the refrigerator. He took out a carton of cream and poured some into his coffee.

Zane wondered when he’d gotten that. He hoped it was still good.

“She’ll understand soon. She’s been on my Nice List for a very long time. I’ve kept an eye on her.”

Zane straightened his shoulders. “A Nice List? I’m not a kid. This whole day has been peculiar from the start. Now it’s ending even weirder. I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for me, but now isn’t the time for your—”

“Zane, the time has come for you to know the truth.”

Mr. North pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and laughed as he pulled his earlobe.

A delightful smell of cookies flooded the kitchen. Zane inhaled and stared wide eyed at him.





I was born and raised in the cold and beautiful Minnesota, but I escaped to Illinois for seventeen years to raise my two boys, and now I call Florida home. My husband Andy, who’s always been my hero, has put up with my late night computer typing and endless stacks of papers with my stories on them. We have one furry friend as family: Chip, a sixteen year old ragdoll cat.

Life has been full of ups and downs, but I’ve made it through the hard times. I love to travel and go to Disney World to trade pins.  I’ve been a bowler for many years, and you can catch me writing my next novel at the lanes.

I encourage you to check out my web site, www.sonjagunter.com for more info and don’t be surprised if I let my Norwegian heritage come through in my stories.

Go Vikings! You betcha!

 

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Wednesday, December 17, 2025

Tour Stop: Tea for Two: An Austen-Inspired Short Story Duet by Bianca White

 

 



An Austen-inspired Short Story Duet

Enjoy two tea parties, two romances and two characters from one of the world’s most beloved authors.


Tea for Two:

An Austen-Inspired Short Story Duet

by Bianca White

Genre: Historical Romance




Jane Austen and tea. What more could one ask for?


Enjoy two tea parties, two romances and two characters from one of the world’s most beloved authors.


In this historical romance short story duet gossip-loving Mrs Jennings meddles in affairs of the heart, and scandalous Henry Crawford turns heads once again!

Be swept away by the amusements of the Regency tea party in these Austen-inspired short stories. Delight in the sweet romance, dancing, gossip and, of course, tea.


“But indeed I would rather have nothing but tea.”
― Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

 

Tea for Two comprises two short stories:

 

Jilted

Lord Asher Mandeville is heartbroken when his childhood love, Miss Tabitha Rowe, jilts him only weeks before their wedding.

Asher refuses to accept Tabitha’s rejection and chases after his betrothed to demand an explanation.

Tabitha is determined to escape him, but Asher’s shattered heart will accept nothing other than her return.

 

Wooing Miss Woodforde

Jasper Trevethan loves Miss Sophie Woodforde, but he is a penniless rake. Sophie would never marry him, even if he were rich.

As an impoverished companion, Sophie serves the whims of others while pining for her employer’s scandalous nephew.

When an unexpected inheritance transforms Sophie’s life, she becomes the target of fortune hunters.

Before another scoundrel steals his love, Jasper must prove his devotion and woo Miss Woodforde. But Sophie would rather become an old maid than marry a man who only wants her for her money, especially Mr Trevethan.

 

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Excerpt from Wooing Miss Woodforde


He headed to the drawing room.

While Sophie continued to hold his heart, he could not bring himself to marry another. Yes, he had wasted his days living off his brother while indulging in a life of idleness and pleasure-seeking. Now he had no option but to pray his aunt left him her fortune. Perhaps then he could offer for Sophie. She will never marry a rake, you fool. As usual, he tamped down the bitter truth, but the tiny flicker of hope that one day she may be his was the only thing that prevented him from sinking further.

His aunt dropped onto the sofa before the crackling hearth. “It does not help your cause that you continue to associate with that scoundrel, Mr Crawford.”

Sophie carried out her duties in efficient silence, pretending not to hear the details of his scandalous associations. How he longed to take her away from this life of servitude. Someone so good, kind and selfless deserved better.

After pouring the tea, she handed her employer a cup.

Without a word of thanks to her companion, his aunt continued, “There is still talk about his scandalous affair with Mrs Rushworth. You should end the connection, for it will only sully your name further. Your reputation as a rake does not help matters, but being associated with an adulterer will not earn you a respectable bride. What must my dear sister think of her favourite now?”

He accepted his cup from Sophie with his head down and muttered his thanks. Shame gnawed at his insides. If his mother had not died of typhus before he reached his tenth year, she would have been sorely disappointed in him.

Why could he not be a better man? He should have sought a profession after university. If he had done something useful, perhaps, he may have earned Sophie’s good opinion and won her heart. Instead, he had wasted his life. He was a hopeless rake beyond salvage, in love with a woman far above him in noble character. Even if he were rich, she would always be too good for him.

Sophie sat on the sofa next to his aunt and twiddled with a delicate curl at her nape.

He had to ask again. “Are you certain you are well, Miss Woodforde?”

“Stop trying to misdirect the attention from yourself, Trevethan.” Aunt Hammond sipped at her tea.

Wispy tendrils of steam rose from the beige liquid in his cup, and he tamped down the urge to ask for something stronger. Liquor would have to wait. Even though nothing eased the painful longing within him lately.

He could not resist being drawn to the source of his yearning while she stared at the flickering flames in the hearth. What had happened to the woman who enjoyed lecturing him about the latest philanthropic project she wished to support or teased him following the gossip surrounding his misadventures? Not that he had many these days unless one counted spending the evenings drinking brandy with Crawford while they both pined for the women they loved but could not possess.

“Trevethan!” he jerked his head towards his aunt. Her narrowed gaze bore into him. Had he given himself away?

She glowered, then said, “Miss Woodforde has received some surprising news today that has unsettled her.”

Sophie’s head shot up; her wide gaze directed towards her employer.

“I hope it is nothing serious?” My God, she was ill. “Is there anything I can do?”

Aunt Hammond scoffed. “It is not unwelcome news—well, not for Miss Woodforde.”

“Mrs Hammond.” Sophie pleaded, but as usual, his aunt could not be silenced.

“Miss Woodforde is now an heiress with twenty thousand.”

His breath stuttered.

On the opposite sofa, Sophie’s head lolled forward, and she ran a palm across her forehead.

Sophie was a wealthy woman—a single, wealthy woman. That meant she no longer needed to work for his aunt. He would not see her when he visited.

Aunt Hammond asked, “Will you not offer your congratulations?”

He glanced at his aunt before returning his attention to Sophie, whose shoulders slumped.

A burning sensation spread down his gullet, and he swallowed. “Congratulations, Miss Woodforde.”

His aunt sniffed. “She is almost maudlin; anyone would think a beloved family member had died.”

Sophie continued to stare into the teacup in her lap. She would leave, and he would never see her again.

Aunt Hammond prattled on. “Heaven knows why, but she wishes to keep it a secret. She should marry, yet she insists she will remain in my employment.”

Of course, her sense of duty would not allow her to abandon his aunt. Selfish thoughts about her leaving had distracted him from the more pressing issue. Another man would steal her from him. His heart skipped a beat. He could not allow it.






Bianca White writes passionate and spicy historical romance.

Bianca loves history and has a degree in history and history of art. The word "research" is often used as an excuse to drag members of her family around every stately home and castle wherever they go. Nothing, not even the grumbling of said family, will keep her away from a historical fashion exhibition.

When she's not writing, Bianca feeds her addiction to romance novels. She also loves baking and watching movies. Thanks to her love of baking (and eating), she feels the need to balance it with a little activity and enjoys tai chi, aerobics and swimming.

Bianca lives in West Yorkshire, England, with her husband and two children.

To receive all the latest news from Bianca White, and a bit of history in your inbox, sign up for her mailing list at Bianca White Writes.

 

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Tuesday, December 16, 2025

Tour Stop: Fur, Fangs, & Mistletoe Christmas Cove Book 1 by Jessica Coulter Smith

 

 


When a struggling single mom and her adorable toddler get snowed in with a grumpy wolf shifter, Christmas magic starts working overtime.


Fur, Fangs, & Mistletoe

Christmas Cove Book 1

by Jessica Coulter Smith

Genre: Paranormal Holiday Romance



Escape to Christmas Cove, a cozy small town where magic, shifters, and holiday romance collide.

After a painful breakup, Riley is ready for a fresh start in Christmas Cove. All she wants is a peaceful life for herself and her two-year-old daughter, Sabrina. Love isn’t on her holiday wish list. When she’s stuck in a blizzard, help arrives in the form of Alex Conors -- a protective, brooding werewolf.

Snowed in with a grumpy shifter and a crackling fire, Riley begins to see the gentle heart behind Alex’s fierce exterior… and Alex finds himself falling for the brave single mom who awakens something he thought he lost long ago.

Hot cocoa and toddler giggles turn strangers into something more. But when Riley’s past resurfaces and threatens the safety she’s found, Alex will have to prove that loyalty, love -- and pack -- are forever.

A warm, emotional holiday romance filled with shifter charm, second chances, and the magic of Christmas. Ideal for fans of protective alphas, found family, and heartfelt happily-ever-afters.

 

🏠 Small-town charm & found family
🐺 Grumpy wolf + sunshine single mom
👩‍👧 Adorable toddler moments
🎁 Snowed-in & forced proximity
💕 Fated mates and holiday magic

 

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The sedan’s engine rattled -- a sound Riley had learned to distinguish from its other mechanical complaints over the past three states. This particular rattle meant she’d make it another fifty miles, maybe more if she kept her speed steady. Her knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel somewhere around the state line, and she couldn’t remember now how to relax them. The GPS showed their arrival in Christmas Cove, and Riley’s shoulders tensed further, an automatic response to any declaration of reaching a destination.

Dusk had settled over the town. Main Street stretched before her, lined with Victorian storefronts that belonged in a Thomas Kincade painting. White lights twisted around lampposts, and wreaths hung at precise intervals, each decorated with the same combination of pine cones and red ribbon. Fresh snow dusted the sidewalks in a way that seemed too perfect, too deliberate. Riley checked her rearview mirror again -- the same compulsive glance she’d made every thirty seconds for the past six hours. Empty road. No one following. No one cared where she went.

She drove slowly past the Sugar Moon Café, noting its warm glow and the silhouettes of people inside. Past a bookstore with a display of holiday romances in the window. Past a hardware store already closed for the evening, its owner probably home with family, sitting down to dinner, living a normal life. The thought made something twist in Riley’s chest, but she pushed it down. Normal was a luxury she couldn’t afford to want.

The residential streets branched off from downtown. Riley followed the GPS directions, checking the crumpled paper in her cup holder against the street signs and the directions from the GPS. One too many times, it had taken her the wrong way. Oak Street. Maple Avenue. Someone had named these roads with an almost nauseating wholesomeness, as if determined to prove the town’s charm. She turned onto Pine Ridge Road, where the houses grew sparser and the forest pressed closer to the road.

A small sound from the backseat made Riley’s gaze dart to the mirror. Sabrina stirred in her car seat, her head rolling to the side as she woke from the nap that had mercifully consumed the last hour of driving. Riley watched her daughter’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness and the strange lights outside.

“Mama?” Sabrina’s voice carried that quality of toddler confusion. Not quite upset, but teetering on the edge of it.

“We’re here, sweetie.” Riley forced warmth into her voice, though her jaw ached from clenching. “Look at all the pretty lights.”

Sabrina pressed her mittened hands against the window, leaving tiny smudges on the glass. “Lights!” She bounced in her seat as much as the straps would allow. “Pretty, Mama! Pretty!”

“Very pretty.” Riley’s smile felt tight on her face. She wanted to share her daughter’s uncomplicated joy, but she kept scanning the streets, cataloging escape routes, noting which houses had lights on and which sat dark. Old habits. Necessary habits.

The GPS announced their final turn, and Riley’s breath caught. The cottage stood at the end of a short gravel drive, a small structure someone’s grandfather had most likely built and barely maintained enough to keep standing. A single porch light illuminated the front door, and beyond it, the forest loomed.

Riley pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The sudden silence felt heavy, broken only by Sabrina’s humming as she kicked her feet against her car seat. Riley sat motionless, her hands still gripping the wheel, and studied their new home.

The cottage was smaller than the photos had suggested. Single-story, with a chimney that leaned slightly to the left. The windows were dark, revealing nothing of the interior. Snow had drifted against the front steps, undisturbed except for what looked like animal tracks, probably a deer or raccoon. The porch railing needed paint, and one shutter hung at an angle.

But for now the house was theirs. For six months, at least, with the first month paid in advance with money Riley had saved from extra shifts and skipped meals. Six months to figure out what came next. After that, she’d have to either renew the lease, or move on to another town.

“Out, Mama!” Sabrina had moved past patient and into demanding. “Out now!”

“Just a minute, baby.”

Riley scanned the neighboring properties. The nearest house sat quite a distance down the road, its windows dark. On the other side, nothing but forest. The isolation should have comforted her. Fewer people meant fewer questions, fewer chances of being found. But instead, it made her hyperaware of how alone they were. No witnesses if something went wrong. No one to hear them scream.

She shook her head, dislodging the thought. Nothing was going to go wrong. This was a fresh start in a quiet town where nobody knew her name or her history. Where Sabrina could grow up without her mother constantly looking over her shoulder.



Jessica Coulter Smith is an acclaimed romance writer with a passion for storytelling. Her works showcase the power of love and its ability to transcend boundaries, capturing the hearts of audiences worldwide. With a unique writing style and perspective, Jessica continues to inspire and entertain readers from all walks of life.

Find her online…

 

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Friday, December 5, 2025

Tour Stop: Undisciplined Catalyst Coletti Warlord Series Book 19 by Gail Koger

 

 


I was sixteen when I found out not only am I an alien hybrid, 

but monsters called the Tai-Kok were getting ready to invade our world. 

Guess who gets to stop them? Me.


Undisciplined Catalyst

Coletti Warlord Series Book 19

by Gail Koger

Genre: SciFi Paranormal Romance



I was sixteen when I found out not only am I an alien hybrid, but monsters called the Tai-Kok were getting ready to invade our world. Guess who gets to stop them? Me. How?

My uncle, the mad scientist, created a machine called the portal that instantaneously sends a test subject from one location to another by converting them into energy. His idea is to port me onto a Tai-Kok ship. All I have to do is leave a bomb, hit the retrieval button on my spiffy traveler’s belt and poof! I’m back on Earth before the Tai-Kok ship goes kaboom. Sounds simple, right?

Wrong. Uncle Ben doesn’t have a clue where I’ll actually appear on the ship. It could be the engine room, the crew quarters, or even the bridge. It’s like playing Russian roulette. The Tai-Kok don’t like surprises or uninvited guests.

To make things even more fun, I have an alien battle commander stuck in my head and I’m related to a powerful Coletti warlord. Yippee. The chances of me living to see eighteen aren’t good.

 

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“Give ‘em hell.” A wild look in his eyes, Uncle Ben tapped on the portal's control console.

The circles of light surrounded me, but this time it felt like a zillion fire ants were crawling over my body. Holy hell! Something had gone wrong! I appeared in midair and dropped like a rock. Smack! I slammed into someone, and my Glock went flying.

My eyes bugged. I was on the bridge of a futuristic warship, and the viewscreen showed one hell of a space battle that was going on. To make things even more fun, I was lying across the lap of a huge, muscle-bound male wearing black battle armor. Since he was sitting in the captain’s chair, I was assuming he was the boss.

A very angry-looking boss. I blinked. Holy cow was he good looking, if you were into the whole merciless predator thing. Huh? The red chains woven into his black warrior’s braids matched the communication device on his left wrist. Who knew aliens accessorized and why did I care? I took a deep breath trying to control the panic streaking through me.

A low growl rumbled in his chest

One look into his disturbingly hostile amber eyes and I knew I was in big trouble. I reached for my retrieval button.

His arms clamped around me painfully and he spat a bunch of gobbledygook.

“Sorry, I don’t speak that language,” I replied mentally. Somehow, I knew he was psychic.

A harsh voice sounded in my head, “How did you get through our shields.”

“Dunno. My uncle is the scientific genius, not me. I’m just the delivery girl.”

“What do you deliver?”

Did I look stupid? The minute I told him bombs; he’d kill me. I pasted a friendly smile on my face. “Stuff. I’m Lexi and you are?”

“Battle Commander Kaelen. I serve Zarek the Coletti Overlord.”

I had no clue who Zarek was, nor did I want to meet him. “You must be so proud.”

“Do you have a death wish, female?”

I grimaced. “Some people would think so.”






Howdy. My name is Gail Koger and once upon a time I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher. Too many years of wild requests, screwy questions, bizarre behavior and outrageous demands have left me with a permanent twitch and an uncontrollable craving for chocolate. I took up writing science fiction romance to keep from killing people. So far, it has worked.

 

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