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Rabbit Moon
Jan D. Payne
Publication date: September 17th 2024
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Thriller

They say you can’t go back home, but Marin Sinclair, end-of-life doula, doesn’t expect her life to be in danger when she answers a mysterious plea for help from a long-ago friend and returns to Dinetah, the Navajo Nation. Her past there holds memories she is reluctant to confront, but what about her life then would make someone want to kill her?

Navajo Nation Police Sergeant Justin Blue Eyes shares a connection with Marin from the past, and he has a few questions of his own when Marin disappears―such as why the Nuclear Regulatory Commission has agents investigating the abandoned uranium mines on the reservation and how Marin is connected.

Marin needs to survive to find any answers, and to do so she is forced to run, going off the grid on her own in the Lukachukai mountains with unknown killers close behind.

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EXCERPT:

The Bilagaana woman’s eyes were wide and staring, and even if she wasn’t a ghost-witch Haastiin Sani thought maybe she was crazy. Only someone crazy would have been out here alone in the dark and the rain. Crazy people must be treated with care, and the same for ghost-witches. It didn’t help to make them angry.

He looked at the woman, considering.

She was trembling now, as if cold, but witches and crazy people both were known to be clever. The sooner he saw her off the better, and he jerked his chin toward the direction of his camp and motioned the woman to follow. He would show her every hospitality and then gently nudge her on her way.

She looked somewhat better when he gave her a cup of hot coffee and offered the frybread his daughter had left for him, inviting her with a nod to take it, and tears came into her eyes as her lips and chin began to tremble.

Very much like a normal person, but it could be a ruse to cause him to relax his vigilance so she could blow corpse dust over him. He busied himself with the fire and wished fervently to be rid of this evil.

Marin knew she made this man very uncomfortable, and she thought she even knew why, considering where and how he had found her, but she didn’t know how to relieve his fears without making things worse.

“Thank you,” Marin murmured to the old man. “Ahéhee’,” she repeated.

She studied the man on the other side of the fire. His face was seamed and wrinkled, his frame was tall and spare beneath the loose shirt of red cotton tied with a woven sash. His gray hair was worn long, and there was a turquoise bead woven into a strand of hair near one temple.

A hogan was built higher up the slope, a blanket hanging across the eastern door, and an empty sheep pen was tucked into a rocky cliff a short way from it. A handsome bay horse wearing a rope halter stood nearby, sheltering under overhanging boards propped between a few corral poles and the cliff.

She looked around for the sheep she knew must be somewhere close by, and the dogs, but they weren’t in sight. She didn’t see any sort of vehicle either, or any other person besides the old man, watching her surreptitiously.

The old man cleared his throat suddenly, and she flinched, startled, but instead of speaking, the old man rose to his feet and walked toward the corral.

She stood as well, thinking he meant for her to follow, but he gave no sign, and she paused.

Passing Marin without word or look, he ducked under the hogan’s blanket door, emerging a moment later with an ancient-looking saddle, a bridle, and a thick saddle blanket woven in red and black yarns.

Silently, he began to saddle the horse, smoothing the blanket across the horse’s back and throwing the saddle over, pulling the cinch tight. He put the bridle on last, settling the bit into the horse’s mouth before reaching to adjust the braided ear straps. Without looking at her, he walked back, thrust the reins towards Marin, and spoke for the first time.

“You go now,” he said, and pursed his lips, pushing his chin toward the east.

Marin opened her mouth to object to taking his horse and slowly closed it again. The old man was giving her a way to get down the mountain, and she had no wish to bring trouble to him if Tolliver managed to follow her here.

She took the reins.

Haastiin Sanii grunted and stepped away toward the fire, and Marin tied her jacket to the saddle, surprised when he returned and pushed the remainder of the frybread into her hands.

“Over there,” he said, pointing again with his chin, “is a good way down.”

She waited for any more words the man might offer, for he seemed to be listening and thinking carefully, but he said nothing. He slapped the horse on the rump and stepped away.

“You go now,” he repeated.

Marin mounted, then turned in the saddle. “I’ll leave the horse at a trading post below,” she said.

Haastiin Sanii shrugged, relieved, as he watched her ride away. She was someone in a lot of trouble or someone bringing a lot of trouble, but he had done the best he could.

He looked down at his sash and fingered the gun he had found beside the spring, then looked down the trail at the woman on his grandson’s horse. He wondered if she knew a flashflood was coming and if she knew enough to stay out of the canyon.

He shrugged again, figured a ghost-witch would know and a crazy person wouldn’t care.

Author Bio:

Drawing from her years in the Southwest and the Navajo Nation, Jan Payne writes on themes of courage, regret, hope, and restoration in a world of created kinships. Through her characters ’lives and shared dangers—Marin Sinclair, end-of-life doula; Sergeant Justin Blue Eyes of the Navajo Nation Police; Cullen MacPherson, agent for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission; Garret Washburn, teenaged ward of Marin’s, and Lewis George, Raven spirit-guide-cum-trickster—she takes readers on a journey through the complex interactions of cultural backgrounds and personal histories, highlighting the way kinships forged in crisis have the power to reshape our lives.

Jan Payne lived on the Dineh (Navajo) reservation in Sanostee, on the New Mexico side of the Lukachukai mountain range, where she spent summers climbing mesas, taking camping trips on horseback, exploring ghost towns in the mountains of Colorado, or working with her dad breaking and training horses in Sanostee. Her two most memorable summer jobs were at a Durango, Colorado dude ranch working with pack mule trains and a brief stint as a camp cook at a uranium mining site.

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The Discovery of Magic
L.J. Evias
Publication date: September 26th 2024
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Transported to an ancient realm of magic and mystery, can a young woman survive scheming royals, shifting alliances, and impending war?

Alice Harper yearns to determine her own fate. Desperate to change her parents’ minds about moving away from everything she knows, the gifted archer sets out to win a coveted scholarship. But the seventeen-year-old feels completely out of control when she and her friends stumble through a strange portal to a mysterious world.

Separated from the others, the bold and reckless teen finds herself whisked away to an impossible palace where charming mages offer help. But as she becomes entwined in the politics of the court, Alice grows suspicious of her new allies, and she struggles to distinguish friend from foe…

As she’s pulled deeper into treacherous plots, can the daring young adult rescue her peers and get everyone home?

The Discovery of Magic is the captivating first book in The Intrigue of Magic YA epic fantasy series. If you like relatable characters, powerful enchantments, and fast-paced action, then you’ll love L. J. Evias’s battle for courage.

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EXCERPT:

Jaime dodged sideways, almost too late, as a sword slashed at him from his right. It wasn’t like him to be this distracted in a fight, but with his escalating schoolwork, his brothers’ nagging and now Jordan’s revelation, it was a wonder he could pay attention at all.

Fortunately, the large boy who had swiped at him stumbled before regaining his footing, allowing Jaime an easy victory. Others wouldn’t be that cumbersome, yet Jaime’s thoughts returned to Jordan and Alice.

A small hope remained that the girls wouldn’t turn up, but that was currently being devoured by a monster that had recently taken up residence inside him, writhing in his stomach and filling him with anxiety.

Perhaps he could distract Alice or Jordan and delay the situation until he’d figured out what to do. Or maybe he could introduce Jordan to someone else. Then Jaime would have plenty of time to figure out whether he really did have feelings for Alice.

Up the hill, blonde hair blowing in the breeze caught his attention. Alice and Emily, with Eliot running ahead. This was no time to be putting all his hope into wishful thinking. He’d just have to tell Jordan he didn’t like the idea.

His mind made up, he threw himself back into the melee, finding a new opponent, more skilled and more eager than the last. He lunged, then dodged, spun around his opponent, then lunged again, his sword slashing. Back again, dodging out of reach, then thrusting forwards until the other boy’s tiredness began to show. Enthused, Jaime delivered the final blow, the clang of his sword ringing out above the din of the other combatants.

As his adversary yielded, two more rushed Jaime, one from each side, making him regret taking his time with his previous opponent. He couldn’t afford to tire himself out yet, not while several people still fought.

Sucking in a quick breath, he swiftly sidestepped, swung his sword around above his head, and cut across the first rival before they could do anything to stop him.

At the same time, the other lunged, but he was not quick enough for Jaime. Darting behind the felled boy, Jaime brought his blade round to strike, and with a few well-timed blows, had the second boy on his knees, capitulating.

With the rush of victory surging through him, he glanced around for his next opponent.

Only Jordan remained, surveying him with a smirk. The expression unsettled Jaime. Although Jordan was more committed to LARPing, Jaime’s fencing skill gave him a strong advantage, and Jordan knew it. Whatever Jordan had planned, he would not be easy to beat.

Approaching slowly and purposefully, Jordan let his gaze drift towards Alice. Both girls were watching intently. Even Eliot was quiet and still beside them.

Suddenly, Jordan’s smile vanished, and he locked his eyes on Jaime, his intent to impress Alice written all over him.

Adrenaline coursed through Jaime, reawakening his tired muscles. The previous fighting had been just for fun, but this was his chance. He could stop Jordan. Beat him for his own good. He’d never ask out Alice then.

Author Bio:

L. J. Evias writes exclusively in the fantasy genre, infusing stories with a dash of adventure and mystery. In Evias’s worlds, moral absolutes do not exist, giving life to a diverse cast of intriguing characters.

The Intrigue of Magic is Evias’s debut series, featuring accessible world-building, intricate plots, and unforgettable heroes and villains. Released in 2024, The Discovery of Magic is the first book in this series.

When not immersed in the pages of a novel, Evias enjoys real-world adventures both in the UK and abroad. The enchanting settings of The Intrigue of Magic series draw inspiration from personal travels, notably the unique architecture and evocative landscapes of Morocco.

Bonus material and a sample short story are available from the author’s website.

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CINDER31LA
Freida Kilmari
Publication date: August 31st 2024
Genres: Adult, LGBTQ+, Retelling, Steampunk

I have 22,280 days left to live.
She only has 31.

Here in Clepsydra, everyone knows when they’re going to die. Born with a life clock embedded into our wrists, the tick-tock of our heartbeat is a pulse we’ll forever hear. Steambotics rule number one? Never mess with a life clock. For 21 years of my life, I’ve followed the rules and walked in my late father’s footsteps, hoping to one day be as good an engineer as he was.

Until she walked into my life.

The princess is dying, and it’s up to me to break the law and do the impossible. To cure time.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

I had 22,280 days to live. That was all the time I would get, whether I liked it or not. The clock never lied. The brass and steel of my lifeclock embedded in my wrist ticked on despite my mental whirring and purring, and I yanked my blue coverall sleeve down to mask the annoying tick tock of my heartbeat.

Returning my attention to the engine in front of me, I asked, “What’ve you got today for me, then?” I popped the hood of the steamer open and watched the faulty lines cross where they shouldn’t and meet where they should, with nothing transferring. “Hmmm . . .” I rubbed sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “Seems you’ve got yourself all twisted, little buddy. Don’t worry, we’ll have you fixed up in no time.” As if in answer, the steamer chugged and whined, puffing a dirty cloud of old, used air in my face—clearly on its last legs. But I couldn’t return it to Old Mags like this; it was the only way she could see her grandchildren over in Prago City.

I spent all afternoon untangling the steam lines, trying to put them back together in a way that resembled the older models, but this thing was built before I was born and I couldn’t figure out how to line everything up to the radiator.

“Liquid toffee, El,” a synthetic voice croaked out from my desk.

“Ah, sweet toffee.” The bitter and sweet mixture always got my heart pumping.

IoN’s rusted, bronze body no larger than my head whizzed through the air with his new thrusters, his arms dangling behind as he raced back to the kitchen.

“Careful, IoN! You’ll knock something off the shelves if you don’t watch those arms.”

“Well,” he said as he whizzed back out with a can of compressed air, “if you did not pack them full with so many”—he paused and pulled an old project I’d been trying to work on last month from the shelf—“doodads, then I would not have a problem.”

He was always like this, moaning and complaining about the state of the garage these days. But with Dad gone, I had to step up and take over the business—my stepmother wouldn’t want to ruin her perfect new manicure my earnings paid for—and that meant there was no one to help clean up. The shelves on the metal and wood walls had stopped floating some time ago. I had since given up fixing their thrusters and nailed them to the walls the old-fashioned way.

“Just be careful,” I chuckled.

His small, hemispherical body whizzed around the garage, picking up all the tools I’d left lying about this morning after fixing my neighbor’s Instacaff mug. Business had been a bit slow recently—or, as my stepmother liked to remind me, nonexistent. The garage used to shine in the middle of downtown’s business park on level zero; even some of the rich would come to use Dad’s services. “He’s the best in the business,” they’d say, and I’d coo and wonder at his magnificence. Now, it was nothing but a scrappy old building with a broken sign the sun didn’t even reach since they’d built the city’s new level twenty-one a couple of years ago. We’d barely had any sunlight reaching us before, but twenty-one’s entertainment center blocked out the meager shaft of light that used to flicker our way from 11:00 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. every day. Besides, its white marble and old cog design was an eyesore I could do without. I hated the damn sight of it every time I stepped outside.

“Mom to Cinderella,” the radio echoed across the garage, dispelling my thoughts.

I cringed. I hated that name and she knew it, but I was reminded of the warning my stepmother gave me this morning before leaving our apartment: “Cinderella, darling, don’t forget to make some actual money today, or I’ll be forced to resort to grounding you.” She booped my nose, smiled that cruel, frustrating smile at me, and walked to the local spa for her morning massage.

As if grounding me would help pay the bills. I was the only one working!

“Cinderella!”

I snapped out of the daymare that was her plastered-on face and ran to the radio receiver. “Yes, Phyllis?”

“Cinderella!” the radio crackled again, forcing her voice into octaves even higher than her fake personality would usually reach. “How many times must I tell you to call me ‘Mom ’or ‘Mother.’” She sighed over the receiver. “Really, Cinderella, I simply cannot keep telling you.”

“Sorry, Mother.” My voice retained its usual nondescript tone, hiding anything and everything she might use as leverage over my life. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, now that you’ve actually asked.” She coughed to clear her throat. “I may have a job for you. Someone sent us a letter requesting your assistance at the Dome on level eighteen.”

Level eighteen? I’d never even left level zero. Most commoners didn’t venture farther than level ten, and even that was only if you had a well-paying job or an invitation to take you there. Level eighteen? I bet I could see the sun from up there. Not the small slithers we occasionally got when you found the right street corner at the right time of day, but real, actual sunlight.

Author Bio:

Freida Kilmari, an author, writer, and editor from south-west England, has a passion for unique fantasy, one that started with the likes of Philip Pullman, Derek Landy, and Darren Shan. With their fantastical words, she spent her childhood and young adult life vying to create her own world of words one day. Eventually, after finishing her degree and settling into being a business owner, she started writing fantasy romance with LGBT+ twists, and from there, she’s kept twisting tropes, retelling fairy tales and legends, and seeing just how far you can push the boundaries of sexuality and gender.

Living in south-west England, she owns and runs Penmanship Editing, a fiction editing business that strives to make the most out of each author’s unique story, words, and heart. “Every writer is different, and it’s those differences that make our work a part of who we are.” She’s worked on over 100 books in the last two years and has received praise from authors and other editors alike for her encouraging and togetherness approach in a field that is lacking uniqueness and empathy.

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