Spotlight: The Dance We Shared by David Tindell

Ben Fletcher seems to have it all going for him. In his early fifties, he’s in great shape thanks to a disciplined regimen of weight training, swimming and martial arts. He has a job that pays him a good living in the charming Wisconsin city of La Crosse. Divorced a quarter-century earlier, he remains close to his two grown children and grandkids. Ben is content with his life.

But he’s not happy. Twenty years ago, he was, during that glorious year and a half he was dating the glamorous Veronica Starr. They were an “item”: Ben, the city’s highest-rated radio announcer, and Ronnie, an award-winning TV newscaster. They were starting to talk about the future, one that would include marriage and kids. But then, Ben made a stupid mistake, and it all came crashing down. Ronnie broke off the relationship, met an older man and married him. Within a year she was gone, moving with her new husband to the Twin Cities. Ben had no choice but to move on with his life the best he could.

One day, he’s cleaning out a file cabinet in his office and finds an old catalog. Before throwing it out, he riffles through its pages, and an envelope drops onto his desk. Opening it, he finds a card. In handwriting he immediately recognizes as Ronnie’s are a phone number and the words, “Please help me.” When he looks again at the envelope he sees the postmark: it had been sent five years earlier…just before Veronica Starr left her husband, quit her job and disappeared. 

David’s latest book is The Dance We Shared (Men of Honor Book 3).

Excerpt

Please help me.

Three words. The first from her in…how long? They were definitely hers, though. Not in an email but real ink on paper, and not typed, but written, in her distinct, precise and very feminine cursive, with a phone number below. On the inside of a card, otherwise blank. On the face of the card, the Minneapolis skyline. 

The square envelope, empty now, lay there on my desk, its face staring up at me. My office address, also in her hand. No return address, though. And the kicker: the postmark. The card had been sent from the Twin Cities almost exactly five years ago.

It was the start of a new week, and my first order of business for the morning was to clean out a filing cabinet that was due to be taken away, destined for a homeless shelter. The athletic director had emailed the staff, asking us to consider donating little-used office furniture to the cause. Today was the deadline to have stuff ready for a crew of students to haul away. The cabinet was an easy choice. As the media relations director for athletics at the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse, I had a lot of records, and since most of them now were electronic, I really had no use for this old gray clunker. What paper there was inside, I thought, could be sorted through, most of it discarded, the important stuff filed in the one remaining cabinet. 

I’d pulled a catalog out of the bottom drawer, from some long-forgotten and probably shuttered sporting goods supplier and was just about to toss it into the trash bin when something—that’s all I can call it, something—prompted me to riffle through the pages. You never knew. And the envelope dropped out and onto my desk. 

Getting something from the Twin Cities wasn’t out of the ordinary. Here in La Crosse, everybody was familiar with the Minnesota metropolis ninety minutes away. People listened to its radio stations and watched its TV channels, and went there for the shopping, college and pro sports, the theaters, and of course the airport. I went there only when work demanded it, and if I flew anywhere, it was usually out of the smaller airport in La Crosse, where I’d lived for the past quarter-century. I avoided the Cities because she worked there. Or used to, until she left. And it wasn’t as if she’d resigned from her high-visibility job as morning news anchor on the market’s highest-rated TV station and went somewhere else, maybe the network’s morning show in New York, which is where I always assumed she’d wind up. 

No. It was five years ago, right after the date on the postmark, that Veronica Starr, the love of my life, vanished.

– Excerpted from The Dance We Shared by David Tindell, KDP, 2026. Reprinted with permission.

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About the Author

David Tindell was born in Germany and grew up in southwest Wisconsin. Together with his wife Sue, he’s traveled the world, seeking new locales for his novels. He trains in the martial arts, dabbles in radio and joins Sue in the never-ending search for the perfect chai tea latte.

His latest book is The Dance We Shared (Book 3 in Men of Honor). Other books include The Heights of Valor (Book 1 in Men of Honor) and The Man In the Arena (Book 2 in Men of Honor.

Visit his website at www.davidtindellauthor.com. 

Connect with him on social media at:

X: www.x.com/davidtindell1 

Facebook: www.facebook.com/DavidTindellAuthor 

Instagram: www.instagram.com/djtindellauthor 

Spotlight: To Murder a Marquis by Arabella Sheraton

Escape into the drama and romance of the Regency era with To Murder a Marquis, an immersive time travel adventure full of mystery and passion!

When modern-day Jane Carstairs awakens in 19th century England, she’s thrust into a captivating world of lords and ladies, grand estates, and old-fashioned courtship. But Jane soon realizes there’s a sinister murder plot afoot. As Jane works to discover the truth, she finds herself entangled in a web of intrigue. Will she solve the mystery in time or fall victim to the assassin? And can Jane resist the magnetic pull of attraction in this unfamiliar era?

Transport yourself back to the richly detailed Regency world and join Jane on her unforgettable quest for justice and love. With vivid descriptions, gripping suspense, and passionate romantic encounters, To Murder a Marquis is a time travel adventure you won’t want to miss. Embark on the journey today and discover why readers are raving about this unique, spellbinding tale of courage, connection, and timeless romance.

Excerpt

Furious barking woke me from a very nice dream in which my ex-fiancé Allan Hunter was on his knees, begging me to stay, and I had just flung his ring back in his face in a most satisfying manner. The fact he’d dumped me for a full-breasted bistro waitress called Tawnee—that’s right, with a double “e”—who clearly said all the right adoring things, had the intelligence of a single-celled organism, and was a tigress in the bedroom was something I chose to ignore.

The dog wouldn’t stop barking. I opened my eyes, and there he was, a beautiful russet-coloured retriever, barking like mad, but with his tail wagging. Still slightly dazed, I shook my head. What the hell was I doing lying under a tree? I was supposed to be in the library at Chelston Hall, helping Dad, who was in hospital in London with bronchitis, collate the archives of the Hadley family. I could almost hear him say, “Jane Carstairs, what on earth are you doing there when you should be working?”

The dog was still barking. I’m not afraid of dogs so I raised myself on one elbow. “Here, boy. What’s the matter?”

I held out one hand for him to come over and have a sniff as an introduction. The dog took a few steps forward, then ran back to his original spot, and barked once. Clearly, a clever canine. He was telling me something. But what? I struggled to sit up. For some reason, my clothes were constricting; something like a straitjacket encircled my chest. Instead of my casual T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, I wore an ankle-length flowing dress, and short lace-up boots, along with a tight, short, long-sleeved jacket. I was in period costume straight out of Pride and Prejudice. Not funny! Someone had obviously pranked me but managing to undress and get me into this suffocating costume was beyond a joke. Plus, how did I get from sitting in a chair in the library to lying under a tree? 

Back to the dog again, which now seemed very agitated. He ran back and forth a bit and whined. By pulling my dress and copious amounts of petticoat up to my knees, tearing something at the jacket shoulder in the process, I managed to stand. The dog ran off through the trees as if on a mission. Maybe someone was hurt, and the mutt was looking for help? Dogs can be so clever that way. Running in the narrow skirt was impossible so I hitched the skirt as high as I could and chased after the dog. Ten minutes later I arrived, panting, at the scene of a bloody accident. Bloody is no exaggeration. A man, also dressed in period costume—riding gear—lay on his back, his arms flung out. He was either asleep, or unconscious, or ... I didn’t even want to consider the last option. The dog stood next to him, its tail wagging. It looked at me, whining as if to say, “Help him.” I knelt and took a closer look. Robert William Edward Hadley, the Marquis of Coleston, lay before me. An arrow protruded from the top of his left shoulder, a massive amount of blood soaked the front of his fawn-coloured coat, and he looked very dead.

– Excerpted from To Murder a Marquis by Arabella Sheraton, Bublish, Inc., 2024. Reprinted with permission.

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

From Jane Austen to Georgette Heyer, Arabella Sheraton has found both enjoyment and inspiration in sparkling, witty Regency novels. She also loves history and generally finds the past more fascinating than the future. Arabella wrote her first Regency romance to entertain her aged mom who loved the genre. Arabella is honoured to share the adventures of her heroes and heroines with readers.

Arabella’s book, To Murder a Marquis, is available at Amazon.

Visit her website at https://www.arabellasheratonbooks.com.

Connect with her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/regencyromances/ and X at https://x.com/ArabellSheraton. 

Spotlight: Vow of Eternal Night by Lily Crozier

Genre: Fantasy

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers

Clara Wagner has always known that monsters are real, and the worst of them is Prince Raleigh of Rostenburg. But when he decides it’s time to marry, Clara inadvertently finds herself at the center of his attention.

Forced to accept Raleigh’s proposal, Clara would do anything to escape her fate. So when the prince provides an ultimatum—lift his vampiric curse before the end of the year, or become his bride for eternity—Clara knows what she must do.

Heal the prince. Stay alive. Try not to fall in love.

Vow of Eternal Night is a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, gothic romantasy about the lengths people will go to for love, and the many faces monsters can wear.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Lily Crozier has always surrounded herself with books. Born in London into a family of book collectors, she has been a bookseller, BookToker and book publicist. She has a Bachelor in Asia-Pacific Studies and a Master in Publishing and studied in Australia and Japan. When she isn’t reading, writing or talking about books, you can often find her playing video games or dreaming up stories about monstrous men. She lives in Sydney with a book collection that’s too big for her apartment and can be found online as @lilycantstopreading. Vow of Eternal Night is her first novel.

Connect on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lilycantstopreading

Spotlight: The Shores of Our Souls by Kathryn Brown Ramsperger

Multicultural Family Saga / Fiction

Date Published: 4-21-2026

Publisher: Ground One Press

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

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

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

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

Excerpt

February 13, 1981, New York City

Dianna scans the bar through strobe-lit smoke. A haze casts a film on the room’s mirrored walls, hung to give the illusion of space.

“Are you sure this is where you want to be tonight?” Sophia waves her elegant hand through the smoke and lights a cigarette. She feels a pang of guilt for dragging Sophia here. Two decades older, Sophia is more fairy godmother than buddy. 

“Sorry,” is all Dianna shouts over the din and shrugs. She catches her stomach sticking out ever so slightly in one of the mirrors and takes a deep breath to pull it in. 

“Dianna, I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer,” Sophia says. 

Doubting she has the courage to stay here alone, Dianna ponders her options. She looks up at the scum-covered ceiling and asks for inner strength. The subway will close soon, and she has no car. 

Then she sees him.

He wears a European suit. An expensive watch with a black face and gold hands glints on his right wrist. Not much taller than she, but wiry, he seems at once exotic and familiar: olive skin graces distinct, proportionate features. His dark hair reminds her of her mother’s, and his graceful stance, her father’s. He moves with a purposeful gait, arms relaxed, head tilted slightly to the right. He seems part of a world she has yet to experience.

The man circles her, moving through the crowd, around chatting couples, each time drawing nearer, until he stands before her, touching her forearm. “Have you seen a woman...?” he begins.

Dianna misses the rest of his sentence because of the blaring music, his accent, and the word “woman.” He could be fibbing to make himself appear less threatening. Or maybe he has been stood up. “Look around you,” she says and laughs. “Women everywhere. What did she look like?”

He moves in closer and speaks directly into her ear so she can hear him. Dianna shivers as she catches a whiff of his cologne. Her eyes catch his. With his tailored suit and self-possessed energy, he almost fits right in. Yet his eyes betray him. This man has suffered. She knows all about pretending. She’s hooked. 

“She has shoulder-length brown hair,” he says. Then, “Never mind — how could you ever identify her?” He waves his arm upward in dismissal. His eyes shift away.

Sophia taps her shoulder, a silent question. Can she leave? Dianna wants her to stay, to keep her safe, and she almost follows her out the bar door. Her pulse thumps heavy in her neck. Then she gestures Sophia homeward and follows the man to the bar. She came here to meet a man, after all. 

“What’s your pleasure?” he asks. 

She sighs — she will not have to spend her last few dollars to buy her own drink.

“Hello,” he says, extending a well-groomed hand, as though he wants her to examine it. “My name is Qasim. And you are?” His fingers bear no ring. 

“Hello. I’m Dianna. Thank you for the drink.” Her hand lingers in his warm, dry palm for a moment before he lets it drop. Then she makes herself busy stirring the swizzle stick in her gin and tonic, squeezing the lime in.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he says. “Your school ring?”

Dianna gazes at the green stone with a pang of pride. She doubts this man wants to hear much about her college days or the job that put her through school. “Yes,” she replies.

“You work around here?” He takes a sip of his Scotch and looks around the bar, as if he might not get an answer. 

She crosses her legs and steadies herself with her heel on the rung of the bar stool, and then she replies, “Yes, at the Metropolitan. And you?” 

“The UN”

She raises her brows. “Ah, what do you do?”

He squirms on his seat before answering, and his eyes shift to the floor, then up at her face. “Oh, merely the regular diplomatic paper pushing. Have you been working at the Met long?”

His gaze makes her measure her words. “No, I moved here a year ago. She stops, not wanting to reveal more of herself to a stranger.

He seems to read her thoughts. “I am from Lebanon. When I was growing up, I too, wanted to live in New York someday. I always had a fascination with the Statue of Liberty. An American soldier once gave me a tiny replica.” He smiles, and she feels its real warmth. 

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

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

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

Website: https://kathrynbrownramsperger.com

Twitter: https://x.com/KathyRamsperger

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16909806.Kathryn_Brown_Ramsperger

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kathyramsperger/

Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@kathyramsperger5

Spotlight: The Killing Rules by Bree Despain

Imprint: Mayhem Books

Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal

Tropes: Overcoming odds

Seventeen-year-old Harper Westbrook isn’t afraid of monsters…she is one.

For the past three years, she’s been one of the Blood Bound―girls and women cursed with a bloodlust only satisfied by killing terrible men. Once every three months, she trades in her pom-poms for a lethal throwing axe. Her life is led by a strict set of rules to keep her dark secret as hidden as the bodies she buries.

And her number one rule? Stay away from Grayson Jones.

The boy she was totally falling for until the night her curse manifested, everything went horribly wrong, and she killed his father. It was self-defense. Or at least that’s what she keeps telling herself.

Grayson is an investigative reporter for their school paper, and he’ll stop at nothing to find the truth behind his father’s gruesome death.

As he follows new clues down darker and darker paths―to an unbelievable world of mythical beasts and the men who hunt them―Grayson doesn’t realize he’s on a collision course with Harper’s biggest secrets. Now, she must stop him before he exposes her family to the Hunters, even if it means risking her life and heart.

Because who could ever love a monster like her?

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Bree Despain is an award-winning author of multiple young adult novels. Her books have been published in over twenty countries. Bree rediscovered her childhood love for creating stories when she took a semester off college to write and direct plays for at-risk teens. Bree earned her MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She lives in Salt Lake City, Utah with her husband, two sons, three cats, and the world's most adorable dog. She enjoys stand-up paddle boarding, baking French macarons, and researching cults.

Connect:

Website: https://www.readbree.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bree.b.despain

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/breedespain/

Spotlight: Gingerbread Bones by Lindsay Lovise

Imprint: Mayhem Books

Genre: Young Adult, Paranormal, Mystery and Suspense

Tropes: Overcoming odds

They're being hunted…

When sixteen-year-old Georgie and her troublemaking brother are shipped off to the wilderness for their stepmother’s newest reality show, Georgie is convinced it’ll be the worst experience of her life. Two weeks. No phones. Hiking. Camping. Cameras catching every humiliating second.

Then she meets Mack Gray. Tattooed, unreadable, and—among a cast of kids already branded as trouble—he’s the one she’s sure is dangerous.

One night, the counselors are chanting affirmations around the fire. By morning, they’re gone.

But the kids are not alone.

Georgie can feel it, stalking them from the shadows—watching, waiting, picking them off one by one. Whatever it is, it isn’t just hunting.

It’s playing.

And in this game, there seems to be only one ending: no one gets out alive.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Lindsay writes shivery YA books (even though she’s kind of a scaredy-cat), and romances with brave heroines. Although she earned degrees in English and teaching, she always knew she wanted to write stories. When she’s not writing, Lindsay is reading, drinking coffee, and avoiding laundry. She currently lives in New York, but was born and raised in Maine where the winters make for perfect reading weather, and where the woods are the perfect inspiration for all sorts of monsters.

Connect:

Website: https://lindsaylovise.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lindsayloviseauthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lindsaylovise/