Tuesday, April 7, 2026

*Book Tour & Giveaway* The Cursed

 


The gods are not dead. 

They are waiting in the dark between the stars.


The Cursed

by Costi Gurgu

Genre: Space Opera Horror




The Earth is compromised and forbidden. The human Imperium stretches throughout the galaxy. It terraforms planets with indigenous life, destroying it. An organization fights against these terraforming projects, and it is pronounced a terrorist organization by the government and the Imperator.

JO WARWICK, the heiress of Warwick Galactic Enterprises, is on an archeological mission on the forbidden Earth. She contracts an unknown disease, and her expedition leaves Earth. While in space, the disease kills everyone on board but her, as she seems protected by an invisible shield.

Captain TOSHI HUNTER and his crew are activists fighting against the terraformation projects, and after a failed attack on one of these projects, they are pursued by the imperial ships. The chase goes on, but they manage to escape.

And by chance, they discover the unmoving, silent ship of Jo Warwick. They board it and see the massacre inside, but manage to save Jo.

Jo and Toshi begin their adventure in uncovering the truth and the origin of this mysterious disease that now threatens the galaxy, while being hunted by the imperial troops.

 

What readers are saying:

 “…Prose that is gritty, direct, and sometimes a touch awkward powers a voyage of grand proportions as a diverse cast, ancient aliens, sensory worldbuilding, and space battles entertain with thrilling action. In this quick read, Gurgu reveals the foolishness of humanity, moral dilemmas, the folly of war, and the hope of second chances in a hearty science fiction adventure.” _BookLife Review

 

“…Ultimately, The Cursed delivers the pleasures of expansive science fiction: big stakes, bigger ideas, and heroes whose personal journeys matter as much as the fate of the galaxy. Gurgu offers an energetic, imagination-rich ride that will appeal to readers eager for adventurous sci-fi drama—and leaves the door open for further exploration among the stars.”  —CANREADS BOOK REVIEW

 

“Overall, the author has a keen knack for mixing and melding SF and the supernatural in all kinds of intriguing ways. Clear allusions to vampirism would be too obvious; Gurgu opts instead for more obscure archetypes: When was the last time one read about a wendigo in outer space? A fast-paced and fun adventure beyond the stars.” - _Kirk’s Reviews

  

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1.      The Red Tattoo

 

      The archeology team was busy and noisy inside the Bats Cave. The huge boulders blocking the entrance of the dry, large, very deep cave had not been a real deterrent for Jo Warwick. Young, strong, and beautiful, she was not used to rejection or defeat.

The cave was a hidden gem discovered recently in the Carpathian Mountains on Earth. The entire place seemed to be a treasure trove. And “discovered recently” meant after the interdiction against stepping on Earth had been put in place. After the interdiction and especially the defense mechanism had been put into place. But that was not something to keep Jo’s family, the powerful Warwicks, away. Not even the imperator could stop a Warwick if they put their mind to doing something.

The co-op students were giggling as they worked, sometimes louder than they thought they were. With the help of electrical lamps they were collecting and cataloging ceramic pieces, stone tools, animal remains. Next to them, real archeologists were slowly carving into the floor after more remains. The cave was full to the brim with signs of a very old civilization. A civilization that Jo hoped to prove was part of the Vinca culture. The project of her life.

Professor Hannigan, a corpulent man of about sixty, was studying some cave paintings. He tried not to expose them to too much light, or heat, or sweat, or anything else for that matter. He was mumbling while studying. His custom, as Jo knew, adding to the general noise in the confined space of the cave. It was becoming quite claustrophobic.

Jo was in her mid-twenties, athletic, newly graduated from the university, and already in charge of her first dig. She knew how students could get, but that didn’t mean she agreed with the practice and the indulgences.

She approached the walls with paintings, or more accurately, pictographs. One of them in particular had drawn her attention. The drawn figures were vaguely human. Most had huge round eyes and concentric circular shapes on their bodies. That was specific to the Vinca culture, to the fashion or aesthetics of their times. That was why she could barely contain her enthusiasm, her joy—she was ninety-nine percent sure she’d just made the discovery of her life.

The pictograph that had drawn her attention was part of a group, representing small humanlike figures interacting with huge masked beings in weird, ritualistic suits. In the first panel in the group, the humans bowed to the masked figures, obviously their deities. There were no written sources for the Vinca culture, so nothing was known of their religion or mythology.

Jo got closer to the drawings.

“Silence!” she barked over the background noise in the cave. Everyone looked at her and shut up. She was known for a frightful temper and no one wanted to enter into a conflict with her.

“They’re just students on their first practicum,” said Hannigan in a low voice only the two of them could hear. He was like a grandfather to everyone on the team, always ready to indulge them and spoil them.

“Not on my money, they’re not,” said Jo. “They’re students in their first practice and one day they could brag about the experience they got here. They could brag and get the best paid gigs because of this.”

“Yes, but young people…” Hannigan hesitated, looking at Jo. Then, probably realizing he was talking to a young person, he gave up.

The best practice was to ignore the old man and leave it be. She had to put up with all his eccentricities because he was the best in the field and expert on this period of time in Earth’s history. And he was easy to satisfy in terms of credits and accolades. He valued money above all else.

So Jo returned to the pictographs. She got closer to the next one. In it, a man with a wolf head shot stars through some sort of weapon toward one of the masked figures. The masked figure’s body was covered in symbols and shone a bright red.

In the next panel, the masked figure had collapsed, probably dead. His body was still covered in unknown symbols.

Jo returned to the previous panel. The weapon looked like a bone, a real bone encrusted in stone. The stars shooting from it had started to sparkle and fluctuate. What the… Jo got even closer and tried to discern what could make it sparkle like that. There didn’t seem to be anything on the stone base but the painting. She extended her hand and held it above the sparks. No heat. She then touched the bone embedded in the stone. Dry, porous bone. She walked her fingers over the sparks and the shooting stars and then, a red spark passed from the stone to Jo’s skin.

Where it touched the skin a red impression, like a tattoo, spread on Jo’s skin. It had happened so fast that Jo couldn’t do anything else but watch the whole thing with curiosity. She lifted her camera to take a picture, but froze. The tattoo had spread up her arm and down her other arm and she realized it was all over her body, flickering on her skin. It felt like an electric shock. Jo shuddered and collapsed.








Costi’s fiction has appeared in Canada, the US, and Europe. He has sold 8 books and over 50 stories for which he has won 32 awards. He was three times a finalist for the Canadian Aurora Awards.

His latest sales include the anthologies Tesseracts 17, The Mammoth Book of Dieselpunk, Dark Horizons, Street Magick, Water, and Alice Unbound.

His bestselling novel RecipeArium has won three awards (Kult, Nemira, and Vladimir Colin) and was a 2018 finalist for the Aurora Awards.

His novels, “Servitude”, “Green Corrosion”, “Pink Corrosion”, and “Black Corrosion” were published in 2022, 2023, 2024, and 2025. And his latest novel “The Cursed” was launched on April 1st, 2026.

“Green Corrosion” has won four awards (Book Excellence, The Typesmith Writers, The International Impact Book, and the Maincrest Media Award).

“Black Corrosion” has been an Amazon Bestseller for three weeks and is a finalist for Canreads Awards 2026.

 

To find out more about Costi Gurgu visit https://costigurgu.com/

  

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!


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Monday, April 6, 2026

*Book Tour & Giveaway* Firestorm-GUEST POST

 


Some fires are set...others are felt


Firestorm

by Dana Wayne

Genre: Contemporary Small Town Romance



The greatest danger may lie in the firestorm burning between them


Jenna McCray dedicated her life and trust fund to helping others succeed through her charitable foundation, Pathways Mission. After a self-imposed hiatus, her first venture back into the dating pool is an unmitigated disaster witnessed by many, including hunky Fire Marshall Thomas Donovan.

Donovan had a profound mistrust of the upper crust—until Jenna McCray. One photo in the paper. That’s all it took. Regal. Composed. A killer smile. She looked straight into the camera…and into him--and he hadn’t even met her yet.

When he finally did, the effect was seismic. Prim, proper, and utterly magnetic. Something primal flared to life inside him, and he was powerless against it. Calling her “The Ice Queen” didn’t help. Mocking was easier than admitting she'd gotten under his skin long before they even spoke.

When a fire ravages her business on the same night someone vandalizes her home, he wonders if the incidents are connected and searches for answers.

But someone wants to keep their secret buried.

As danger escalates, so does the blistering chemistry between Jenna and Donovan, and he vows to protect her at all costs—even if it means risking everything.


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Jenna shrieked and jumped up, toppling her chair and stumbling into someone behind her, who then collided with a waiter carrying a water pitcher, sending all three to the floor in a shower of ice-cold water.

She landed partially on top of the man, his arms around her waist as he bore the brunt of the fall. Another scream lodged in her throat when she saw it resting on her thigh.  

Suddenly, his hand moved, and the spider vanished.

“You’re okay,” murmured a husky voice against her ear. “It’s gone. You’re okay.”

Laughter filtered through a fog of humiliation. She’d freaked out—in a public place and lay on the floor atop a total stranger while Oscar did nothing but watch, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Something wrong, Jenna?” he crooned.

“I t-t-told you I h-hate spiders.” Her body trembled, and she couldn’t control the quiver in her voice.

The man’s arms tightened slightly.

“Did you?” cooed Oscar. “I must have forgotten.”

***

Donovan couldn’t believe his eyes when he first saw Jenna McCray in person tonight. All prim and proper, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and his crazy heart raced like a runaway train. 

She’d dominated his thoughts from the moment he saw her picture in the paper two weeks ago. Hell, he’d even cut the damn thing out and kept it in his desk. How pathetic was that?

Everything from her regal posture to how she sipped the wine screamed money and class. Coffee-colored hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape, and pearl studs in her ears emphasized the delicate bone structure of her face and the fullness of ruby-colored lips. The basic black dress and single strand of pearls would look simple on most women. On her, it was elegant.

When their gazes locked briefly, the jolt of desire was so potent it shocked him.

The returning look of interest stole his breath.

Every unexplained feeling he’d endured the last two weeks hit like a tidal wave. It took massive effort to walk calmly to his table.  

Oscar's joining her was an unpleasant shock. The man was dirty as mud. Why on earth would a woman like her associate with him?

Thoughts in turmoil, he decided to skip dinner and leave—until all hell broke loose.

He’d never met anyone with arachnophobia, but judging by her reaction to a fake spider, she suffered an extreme case. As snickers from the other patrons registered, his protective instincts surged.

A shudder rolled through her body, and she sucked in a jerky breath, mumbling something he didn’t catch.

“It’s gone,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

She made a move to stand, and he maneuvered to assist, one hand remaining on her arm for stability.

“I’m so sorry,” she muttered, avoiding eye contact and swiping at the water on her dress. “I’ll pay to have your clothes cleaned.”

Face flaming, she watched the waiter clean up the mess. “Oh, Alfred,” she asked. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Miss McCray.” He nodded toward Oscar’s retreating figure. “And he’s to blame—not you.”

Donovan lightly squeezed her arm. “Ma’am? Are you okay?”

She managed a shaky “I’m fine,” then swallowed. “Th-thank you. For helping me.”

 Donovan clenched his teeth as his fantasy dreams went up in smoke. She couldn’t even look him in the eye when she mumbled insincere words of gratitude.

“Anytime.”

At his terse response, dark, earnest eyes, filled with confusion and something he couldn’t readily identify, whipped to his. Desire coursed through him, heady as strong whiskey, leaving him off-balance.

She frowned and retrieved a wallet from the bag on the table, pulled out a card and some bills, then passed the money to Alfred. “If this isn’t sufficient for my wine and the pitcher, please let me know.”

He hesitated, then took the money. “It’s fine, Miss McCray.”

A harried woman appeared from Donovan’s left. The manager—they’d met on a previous visit, but he couldn’t recall her name.

“Oh my God, Jenna. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Katie. Embarrassed but unhurt.” She nodded toward Donovan. “This gentleman broke my fall.” She nibbled her lower lip as though unsure of what to do next. Inhaling, she passed him the card. “Thank you, Mr…”

“Donovan.”

“Mr. Donovan. Please—”

“No mister. Just Donovan.”

Lips slightly parted, she hesitated. “Oh. Okay. Donovan. Please send me a bill for the dry cleaning.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes. It is.”

Cheeks the brightest red he’d ever seen, her earnest expression softened.

“Please.”

That one word curbed his resentment. He took the card, ignoring the tingle as their fingers brushed.

“Donovan,” said Katie. “Thank you for helping my friend.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

“And dinner’s on me tonight.”

“Actually, I was just leaving.”

She looked around. “Was something wrong with your table?”

He shook his head. “Unexpected change in plans. I was on my way out when—this happened.”

“Then please accept a raincheck for next time.”

He nodded, knowing he would never accept the offer, no matter how kindly extended.

Katie rubbed Jenna’s shoulder. “Guess kicking him to the curb in a public place wasn’t such a good idea after all, huh?”

Donovan barely covered his surprise. So that’s what happened—good for her.

Jenna’s gaze skipped from him to Katie. “No. It wasn’t.”

“I’ve never seen you react that way before.”

She glanced at Donovan. “I—it just surprised me. That’s all.”

He immediately recognized the lie. She wasn’t surprised. She was terrified.

“I told him they bothered me.”

And that’s the understatement of the century.

 “And you’d already told him to back off,” added Katie, “so the creep had a Plan B to get even. I’m just happy you weren’t hurt.”

This time, when she looked at Donavan, her gaze held, and the intensity floored him. A dark chocolate brown enhanced by a golden ring around the edges, they glistened in the restaurant’s ambient lighting.

Or was it unshed tears? 





Texas Winds

by Dana Wayne

Genre: Contemporary Small-Town Romance



Two hearts shattered by betrayal. Once chance to trust again.

 

Jake Holloway discovered his wife’s infidelity as she lay in a coma, carrying a child that may not be his.

Four years later, his heart remains closed to all emotion. Lexie Morgan’s dream of happily-ever-after ended the day she stood alone at the altar. The need to put distance between her and the pain places her in the path of feral hogs and Jake Holloway’s life. Neither is prepared for the intense attraction.

When Lexie meets his four-year-old daughter, Katie, the timid child with downcast eyes steals her heart.

Forced to rely on Jake’s assistance, it’s impossible to ignore the escalating pull.

But the past never dies, and resurrected hurts threaten their fragile bond.

Will the ever-changing Texas winds hold them together or reduce their love to dust?

 

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Ankle and hip throbbed in unison, and a growing headache added to the misery mix.

She took a breath and looked around. The front bumper dug into the far side of the muddy embankment, and the blown-out tire rested in muck halfway up the rim. Dingy water in the ditch swirled around her feet and leached up her mud-coated pant legs. Her disgusted gaze took in the filthy jeans and soaked and blood-coated tee shirt. “Crap,” she muttered. “Brand new shoes.” She swiped a hand across her cheek, leaving a streak of bloody mud in its wake. “Great way to start my first vacation in years.”

She adjusted her grip on the door and blew wet hair away from her mouth. “Alrighty then.” Muttering under her breath, she reached past the dog and plucked the half-full Swear Jar from the floorboard. An irritated swipe at the wet hair clinging to her cheek left more muddy streaks behind. “Time for the big guns.” She placed the jug on the seat near Biscuit and pulled two soggy one-dollar bills and three quarters from her pocket. She took a breath and ceremoniously dropped the quarters through a slot cut into the lid, mumbling after each one. “Damn. Damn. Dammit.” She took a deep breath and crammed the wet bills through the hole. “And son-of-a-bitch.” 

“Don’t reckon that’s gonna help much.”

An f-bomb exploded before she could stop it.

***

Startled by the man’s deep voice, Lexie swore and spun around, tossing the jar over her shoulder as intense pain shot up her leg.  Off-balance, she grabbed the door to keep from falling on her rear as the jug landed with a mushy thump at the stranger’s feet.

The brim of a dark Stetson cast his face in shadow, but there was no disguising his frame. Tall, at least six-two or three, shoulders a mile wide, with long, muscular legs encased in worn jeans. Muddy work boots covered his feet, and well-used leather gloves stuck out of his front pocket. Rain dripping from the brim of his hat left wet trails on his pale blue chambray shirt, and the rolled-up sleeves revealed tanned, muscular forearms.

He hesitated, then picked up the jar, one corner of his mouth curling up as he read the inscription. “I’m guessing that last word is expensive,” he said as he passed her the container before stepping back.

His husky, just-woke-up voice raced through her like fine wine, leaving her momentarily speechless. “It is,” she snapped and took the jug. “Five bucks.”  She glanced past him and noted a grime-coated, black Ford F250 crew cab parked behind him on the shoulder of the road. Holy crap. I never heard a thing. She eyed her bag, mentally calculating how long it would take to reach the pistol inside if needed. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. I have a gun. And I know how to use it.” 

He made no effort to approach, just stood there, hands on his hips. “Are you hurt?”

She gripped the door tighter when her throbbing ankle threatened to fold again. “No. I’m good.”

“You have blood on your face. And mud.”

His intense gaze traveled up and down her body, causing an involuntary shiver.

“Were you ejected?”

“No. I slipped when I got out.”

He tipped his head toward the back seat. “What about the dog?”

She glanced at Biscuit, who showed no concern over the stranger’s sudden appearance, and noted a little blood on the side of his mouth. How did she miss that before? “Biscuit!” Dismissing the man, she leaned against the car and ran her hands over the dog again, checking more thoroughly for anything broken. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

The dog stoically endured her frantic exam with only a slight whimper when she touched his front paw before moving to his mouth. “Come on, baby, open up.” She slowly pried his jaw open and saw blood on his tongue.

“Looks like he bit it. Probably on impact.”

It took tremendous effort not to react to the unexpected voice behind her left shoulder. “Yeah. Probably. I’ll have him checked out when I get to town.” 

He looked at the luggage piled in the back of the SUV. “Where you headed?” 

She glanced up and discovered walnut-colored eyes watching Biscuit, his square jaw visibly tense. His face was rugged and somber, bronzed by wind and sun and covered with dark stubble. No laugh lines around full lips, and unspoken pain was alive in dark, fathomless eyes. In a heartbeat, his expression changed, switching to closed-off and distant as he took two steps back, hands stuffed in his front pockets.





Multi-awarding winning author Dana Wayne is a sixth-generation Texan and still resides in the Piney Woods. She routinely speaks at book clubs, writers’ groups and other organizations and is a frequent guest on numerous writing blogs. A die-hard romantic, her stories are filled with strong women, second chances, and happily ever after.

“I’m all about the romance, so my tales are heartwarming, have a splash of suspense and humor. While they are a little steamy, I believe romance is more about emotion than sex, and the journey is more important than the destination.

“I retired in late 2013 and published my first book in 2016. I was over the moon when it was awarded first place in a contest through the Texas Association of Authors, and I never looked back. My books have been nominated for and/or received various awards and numerous five-star reviews. To have my work validated in such a manner is very gratifying and humbling.”

Affiliations include Texas Association of Authors, Writers League of Texas, East Texas Writers Guild, Northeast Texas Writers Organization, and East Texas Writers Association.

 

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GUEST POST

  1. Can you, for those who don't know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author? 

Answer: I have wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. I learned to love the written word sitting in my dad’s lap listening to him read to me from this stack of paperback westerns he kept by his chair. That’s where I learned it was possible to paint a picture with words so vivid, I could see it in my mind. And I told my parents then that is what I wanted to do – paint pictures with words. 


Over the years, I wrote some poetry, articles for newspapers and anthologies for some of my writers’ groups, but it wasn’t until I retired in 2013 that I was able to pursue what I REALLY wanted do to write – novels.  I published my first book in 2016, and I am currently working on my ninth. 


  1. Where were you born/grew up at? 

Answer: I am a six generation Texan—or seventh, depending on which relative to talk to. I grew up in the country and still live in a small rural area of east Texas. 


  1. Who is your hero and why? 

Answer: My mother. She was the strongest woman I ever met. Life handed her many trials over the years, but her unshakable faith and positive outlook got her through each one. When cancer slowly stole life from her, she never stopped smiling and thanking God for each breath she took. 


I think I inherited her creative/artistic gene. She discovered in her fifties that she could paint and did several pieces for her local church. She was very artistic and taught me how to make these table-top Christmas trees that I make to this day. 


  1. What do you do to unwind and relax? 

Answer: Aside from spending time with my family, I love to craft, read, cook, do anything outdoors, especially working in the flowerbeds. 


I love making crafty things, especially my tabletop Christmas trees. And I love Christmas! My Christmas tree stays up year-round – it’s too big to take down and put up anymore. Mainly because I’m an ornament junkie. I have so many ornaments on that tree—some my kids made, some friends gave me, some I collected on trips I made. So many stories are tied to that tree that sometimes I will dial up some Christmas music on my phone, turn on the lights, grab a glass wine just remember… 


  1. Describe yourself in 5 words or less! 

Answer: Creative, spontaneous, positive, sentimental, and witty.


  1. When did you first consider yourself a writer? 

Answer: I have written so many different things over the years, but if I had to pick a specific moment, I’d have to say it was the day my first book actually hit the shelves. I worked so hard, put so much time and effort into it, but kept asking myself, ‘what if no one likes it?’ My husband, who doesn’t read my work but listens to me brainstorm and thinks I’m terrific (insert big smile here) said he knew it would be great. And low and behold, it got wonderful reviews and then won First Place in a statewide contest! That validation was the icing on the cake, because now I am a WRITER baby! 


  1. Which of your novels can you imagine made into a movie?

Answer: Chasing Hope for sure because many readers have told me it would make an excellent Hallmark movie, well, except for the love scene at the end. They’d have to edit that out. And Texas Winds, too.



Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $20 giveaway!


Enter the Firestorm Giveaway Here


Saturday, April 4, 2026

*Release Blitz* Wrathful & Avenging Gods



Title: Wrathful & Avenging Gods

Author: Debbie Cassidy

Genre: Dark Fantasy Romance

Cover Designer: Covers by Juan

Publication Date: April 4th, 2026

Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR

Blurb: 

The road to freedom is a river of blood.

I was tricked. Betrayed. And now the primordial evil has the throne. The asura and my closest friends are in his control, and the sky world is in lockdown with me trapped outside of it.

Only the deva can stop him now, but the key to summoning them is inside the royal domain. Someone needs to activate it. That someone will have to be me.

But the power he wields is immense, and his true goal is a mystery that I don’t have time to unravel.

I need allies.

I need an army.

And I need a way back into the royal domain.

My task feels impossible, but with the help of a few unexpected allies I might just be able to pull it off.

The primordial evil stole my throne, my people, and the man I love.

I plan to get them back starting with my Araz.

By the time I'm done, evil will tremble at the sound of my name.

Join Leela and Araz in the final thrilling instalment of the Labyrinth of Gods.


 

Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head – in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes Urban Fantasy, Fantasy and Reverse Harem Fantasy. All her books contain plenty of action, romance and twisty plots.

 

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