Release Blitz: Unveiled – A Paranormal Shifter Romance – Monarchs of Magic Book 1 by Susan Mac Nicol

BOOK BLAST - RECENT RELEASE

Book Title: Unveiled – Paranormal Shifter Romance – Monarchs of Magic Book 1

Author: Susan Mac Nicol

Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group

Cover Artist: Boroughs Publishing Group Creative Designer

Release Date: September 22, 2026

Tense/POV: third person, past tense

Genres: MM Paranormal Shifter Romance, Fantasy/Urban Fantasy

Tropes: Forced proximity

Themes: Found family, Fated mates

Heat Rating: 2 flames   

Length: 88 000 words/334 pages

This is the first book in the series. It does not end on a cliffhanger. HFN

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Scotland keeps its own secrets – and some walk on four paws

Blurb

In the mist-shrouded Scottish Highlands, a centuries-old legend stirs to life when a mysterious town appears during a fierce storm.

Through the Mists of Time

Like a place in fables and fairytales, the town of Glengaill is filled with secrets and enchantments.

This remote area of the Highlands is home to two enigmatic wolf shifters. Connor, who rules his clan with primal strength and fierce loyalty, and Julien, whose compassion and humor shines through to keep the clans balanced.

Kings of their packs, Connor and Julien are bound by a destiny entwined with Glengaill's fate. This mysterious, magical village that appears during a fierce storm, is more than it seems, and danger lurks at its edges.

As the fog of time slowly lifts, the town's hidden beauty is revealed, and a powerful bond between the shifters and the town's lore is rekindled.

But Glengaill is bound and captive to a council who is determined to keep the townspeople and their magic for themselves.

Caught between their duty to their packs and the call of destiny, Connor and Julien must protect Glengaill from forces that threaten to exploit its magic while grappling with their unexpected and conflicted feelings.

As the battle begins, both kings fight for Glengaill, and for each other, so all will not be lost in the mists of time.

Excerpt 

The next morning, on his way to meet Xiathen, Connor remained in no mood for any more riddles or secrets. He’d already planned a solo shift for tonight to get rid of the pent-up frustrations he was carrying. He’d barely made it down the main street—if you could call a single ribbon of cobbles stitched between slate-roofed cottages and low stone walls a street— before people began to notice them. Not in a gawping, touristy way. More like the way an animal notices a change in wind direction. 

Adrian stood in front of the Inn, waving at the children playing in the street, doffing an imaginary hat at people standing outside the market and the village shops. Connor felt as if every step was a negotiation with the ground, to be taken at one step at a time. “Don’t encourage them,” Connor muttered as he drew near. “We’ve enough on our plate, and don’t need anyone else sharing bloody mysterious prophecies or delivering dire ditties of destiny.” 

“Such alliteration,” Adrian commented with a grin. “Quite impressive.” His mouth twitched. “And I’m not encouraging anyone.” 

“You are.”

 “I’m looking at the buildings and being sociable.” 

Connor shot him a look. “You’re dying to visit every damned shop in the village and make new friends.” Adrian didn’t deny it. As peoples’ faces appeared in windows and doorways, he greeted them. Connor had to admit it felt right. No phones. No whispering. Just a quiet, collective assessment. It should’ve felt hostile. Instead, it felt like being recognised. 

They passed a shop with a sign painted in gold leaf: Morrigan & Thread. The window display was a riot of felt and velvet, feathers and braided cords, hats perched on stands like small, proud creatures. A top hat with a band of dark green. A flat cap stitched with silver thread. A wide-brimmed thing that looked like it had been made from midnight. Adrian slowed. Connor didn’t. 

He took two more steps before realising Adrian wasn’t beside him and turned back, irritated. “What?” 

Adrian nodded at the window. “It’s a hat shop.” He looked like a child at Christmas. Connor huffed. “It’s a bloody hat shop, so what?” 

The door opened before either of them touched it. A man stood in the doorway, tall and narrow as a lamppost, his hair a storm of grey curls held back with—Connor blinked—what looked like a hatpin shaped like a tiny sword. He wore a waistcoat the colour of old wine and a measuring tape draped around his neck like a priest’s stole. His eyes were sharp and amused. 

“Connor,” he said, as if they’d had tea last week. Then his gaze slid to Adrian. “And Adrian. Come in. You’re letting the draught in.” Connor froze. “How do you—” “Names?” The man waved a hand as if batting away a fly. “Everyone knows names. It’s the shape of you that’s interesting.”

About the Author 

Susan Mac Nicol is a British novelist dedicated to the power of LGBTQ+ romance, fantasy, and paranormal fiction. With over forty published titles spanning contemporary emotion and dark fantasy, her stories centre on complex characters who discover strength in connection. She's also an award winning scriptwriter with ten awards for the script Sight Unseen, written with actor Nicholas Downs.

From the gritty streets of the Men of London series to the sensual underground of Fetish Alley and the enchanted realms of Monarchs of Magic, Susan weaves high-stakes drama with emotional intimacy.

When she’s not lost in fictional worlds, Susan actively connects with fellow romance enthusiasts, mentoring upcoming writers and celebrating diverse queer voices across global literature.

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Release Blitz: Swimmer's Ear by Alex Winters

Title: Swimmer’s Ear

Series: Good Sports, Book Five

Author: Alex Winters

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/27/2026

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 29800

Genre: Contemporary, college students, contemporary, karaoke, lesbian, new adult, romance, singer, sports, swimmer

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Description

Aspen Calliope is a star swimmer for the Salem State Sharks, a celebrated athlete and community do-gooder who’s destined for great things. Professionally, that is. Personally? Her life as a closeted lesbian has only brought her loneliness and anxiety, but all that changes when an ill-fated blind date for her birthday brings her to the Winking Clam dive bar, home to none other than the Talent Tuesday Karaoke Hoedown.

Margo Summers is everything Aspen isn’t: shy, bookish, insulated, and insecure about her weight. About the only place she isn’t insecure is when she’s climbing onto the stage at the Winking Clam. But there, on the stage, in the spotlight, eyes closed and crooning “The Stars in Her Eyes,” her favorite country ballad, Margo can finally be her true, authentic self: beautiful, radiant, talented…loved. All the things she currently isn’t.

When star swimmer and all-around Big Woman on Campus Aspen suddenly appears in the audience one night, Margo’s life changes on the spot. As the two polar opposites learn they have more in common than they first thought, will it be enough to keep them together when life—and society—threatens to tear them apart?

Excerpt

Swimmer’s Ear

Alex Winters © 2026

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

ASPEN

“Brock?”

I’d seen him from across the street, fidgety and spry in his forest-green turtleneck and caramel-colored corduroy slacks. He held a single rose in one small hand, as he’d promised to do in our text thread earlier that day, and kept hooking the index finger of the other hand in his sweater collar to stretch it out. It was either a nervous habit or else he just really didn’t like tight things around his throat.

He was smallish, bookish, thick glasses on his handsome face and a cute little cowlick above his rumpled forehead. I’d lingered in a crowd outside the Gently Perused bookstore just long enough to screw up my courage before crossing Spruce Street and approaching him.

“Aspen?” His voice cracked adorably. His face flushed. He looked up at me. He had to be a good three inches shorter than I was. “Happy birthday!”

I smiled and took the rose he practically shoved in my chest, feeling overdressed in my little black cocktail dress as he shifted from foot to foot in his tiny loafers. “Thank you,” I gushed, admiring the rose as if I’d never seen one before. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“You’re the sweet one,” Brock insisted, gazing up at me shyly. “I mean, a blind date? On your birthday? I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere else than here. With me.”

He looked a little glum. I chuffed him on the shoulder and leaned in slightly to mutter, “I mean, does lying around in my jammies all night eating cheesy poofs and binge-watching Real Househusbands of Denmark count?”

My blind date brightened for the first time. “I love that show!” he agreed, fangirling as our eyes met. His were bright behind his thick lenses. “See, we’re off to a great start already.”

I leaned back and frowned. “But how do you feel about cheesy poofs?”

We were still laughing when he turned and nodded at the steadily blinking sign for the Winking Clam. I’d heard about the locally famous dive bar before but never had the pleasure of actually going inside. “I figured, since it’s your twenty-first birthday, it’d only be right to have it here.”

“How romantic,” I murmured, taking his arm. It was slight and yielding. He blushed again.

“Well, I mean…” he began, stammering as we approached the door. “Not that romantic.”

“No?”

“I’m only twenty but the bartender’s my roommate so I figured…” He hunched his shoulders and smushed his face to turn himself into a human question mark. “Two birds with one stone?”

I chuckled as he held the door open for me. Rock music pounded from inside, ruining our cozy little meet cute out front. “So, you’re saying this is the only place you can drink quasi-legally?”

“Only for another six months,” he shouted over some hair band anthem from four decades ago. I chuckled as we stumbled in. The walls were heavy with dark wood paneling and covered with dusty framed rock posters from bands and concerts gone by.

There was a small stage at one end of the room, and at the other a U-shaped bar, bathed in winking Christmas lights as if to mask the otherwise dingy vibe. We stood awkwardly between a dozen or so empty tables and the bar.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Brock asked, reaching for his wallet and, presumably, his fake ID.

“Hell no,” I answered over a blistering guitar lick blaring from hidden speakers high above. “Who wants to drink alone on their twenty-first birthday, right?”

He brightened, nodding at the tables behind me. “Wanna grab a seat and I’ll get the drinks?”

“Just a beer for me, thanks.” I found the table furthest away from the speakers and settled in atop a wobbly wooden chair. I sighed, nodding to myself to keep a stiff upper lip. After all, my pleasant demeanor and forced smile aside, I would literally rather be anywhere else at that moment.

The fact that my teammate and so-called “best” friend Dara had set me up on this blind date for my birthday, rather than being available for our annual double-feature of cheesy B-horror movies at the Salem Cinemas like every other year, was bad enough.

But that she’d set me up with a guy? Twice the betrayal.

Naturally, my phone was bleating from inside my little clutch purse as I set it down on the tiny tabletop. Dara’s rapid succession of tweets filled up the screen like little grey boxes in a video game:

So?

How’s it going?

He’s cute, right?

A little short, not his fault you’re an amazon!

You there?

????

Why aren’t you writing me back????

What? You’re. STILL. Mad?!?!

I thought for a moment about sliding the phone back in my purse and punishing her with the silent treatment for the next three hours straight, but it would only mean three more screens full of progressively angrier text bubbles in reply. Instead, I pointed the phone at Brock’s back as he stood at the bar, talking to some grungy goth dude who was presumably his roommate, and snapped a quick pic.

I studied the picture before I sent it: Brock, standing casually at the bar, grinning up at the goth dude with the strangest little smile. And the goth dude? Smiling right back and sliding a lock of his long black hair behind one ear with one long finger. The finger had silver rings all over it, most of them skulls. The ear? Blushing a bright, vibrant—one might even say nervous—red. I pinched and pulled to blow the pic up a bit and Bartender Dude wasn’t the only one. My cute little blind date was blushing too, and not just in the ear department. I wondered, idly, what that might mean.

I ignored the first impressions and sent it to Dara with a quick message:

The eagle has landed. He’s cute. Then again, so is his roommate. To be continued…

Like most of my friends, back home and here on campus, Dara had steadfastly refused to acknowledge my hints and murmurs about “not really being into guys” over the years and had subsequently taken it as a personal challenge to “change my mind” instead. The result? Some poor schmo smiling at me from across the room as he made the way back to our table, a beer in each hand and his heart about to be broken.

Or, at the very least, his cock about to be blocked.

“Thank you!” I exclaimed as he set the beers down on the table and sank into the rickety wooden chair across from me.

“To your birthday,” he said over another raucous rock song. “And to you, Aspen.”

I clinked his bottle. Sipped my beer. Pretended to study the bar and the stage and the rock god posters and the winking lights until my gaze fell back on Brock. “Is that your real name?” I asked, figuring I might as well have some fun if I had to be polite and endure a random blind date with a straight guy.

He nearly snorted out his beer. “Of course it is, why?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, I just… You don’t really strike me as a Brock.”

He nodded as if I wasn’t the first person to tell him that. Not by a long shot. “No, I know. My parents had high expectations when I was born, I guess?”

I winked and leaned a little closer in. “Lemme guess: your mom read a lot of romances while she was pregnant. You know? The kind with a wanton woman on the front cover and some bare-chested highlander about to rip off her bodice?”

Brock chuckled and sipped his beer. “Dara said you were a smartass. I guess she wasn’t kidding.”

“Guilty as charged,” I sighed, waving my beer back in his general direction. “How do you two know each other, anyway?”

“I was her Calculus tutor last semester,” he confessed shyly.

“That tracks.”

The door opened across the room, letting in a flash of late-afternoon sunlight and a swirl of fresh spring air before shutting again. An older couple, decked out in biker gear, went straight for the bar.

“Why do you say that?”

I shrugged. He’d inched slightly closer around the table, perhaps to be heard. His face was in stark shadows from the bar’s aggressively dim lighting. “I dunno, just doesn’t seem like you two would run in the same social circles, that’s all.”

He snorted again. His beer was already half-gone. “I meet a lot of new people at the Learning Lab. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have much of a social life.”

“Same with me and swimming,” I admitted, limbs pleasantly sore from that afternoon’s blistering practice.

“See?” Brock said almost hopefully. “That’s one more thing we have in common.”

“Two,” I countered, waving my still mostly full beer at the rapidly filling saloon. “That is, if you count dive bars?”

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Meet the Author

Alex Winters is an Amazon bestselling romance author with a passion for holiday music, junk food, cheesy 80s horror movies and Epcot. His stories in the Good Sports series for NineStar Press tend to be sizzling and sweet, with a whole lot of laughs—and spice—along the way! Visit him at www.amazon.com/author/awintersromance to see what he’s cooking up next!

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Release Blitz: Holiday Heir by Maggie Cole

Title: Holiday Heir

Series: Cartwright Family #4

Author: Maggie Cole

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Tropes: Secret Baby, One Night Stand, Small Town

He Falls First, Cowboy, Holiday Romance

Release Date: October 28, 2026

BLURB

He needs her to save his racehorses. She needs him to never find out about their daughter. But some second chances come wrapped in cowboy boots and mistletoe. Hot. Relentless. Impossible to undo.

Small-town gossip never cost me a thing. Until it convinced the best night of my life that I was somebody else's fiancé.

When a family emergency drags me away before sunrise, I do something I never do. I leave the gorgeous redhead a note on the back of a receipt. But when I return, she's gone.

No explanation. No phone number. No last name. No goodbye.

For eleven months, I search for her. Then, without realizing who she is, I hire her to save my family's racehorses.

Only Lainey's been hiding something far bigger than her phone number.

My daughter.

She thought disappearing was the only way to protect us both. Too bad the town gossip that sent her running was nothing but a lie.

Now I'll do whatever it takes to prove she belongs exactly where she always should have been.

With me.

On the Cartwright ranch.

Holiday Heir is a secret-baby, one-night-stand, small-town cowboy holiday romance. It's a slow-burn, steamy standalone featuring a playboy rancher and the spitfire horsewoman who never planned on loving him twice.

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AUTHOR BIO

Maggie Cole is committed to bringing her readers alphalicious book boyfriends and fiercely strong heroines.

She’s been called the literary master of steamy romance. Her books are full of raw emotion, suspense, and will always keep you wanting more. She is a masterful storyteller of contemporary romance and loves writing about broken people who rise above the ashes. Her books can often be found hanging out in the top 100, even years after publication.

Maggie lives in Florida with her son. She loves tennis, yoga, paddleboarding, boating, other water activities, and everything naughty.

Her current series were written in the order below:

All In (Stand alones with entwined characters)

It's Complicated (Stand alones with entwined characters)

Brooks Family Saga (Read in order)

Behind Closed Doors (Read in order)

Mafia Wars (Stand alones with interconnecting plot and entwined characters)

Mafia Wars New York (Stand alones with interconnecting plot and entwined characters)

Club Indulgence Duet

Mafia Wars Ireland

Wilted Kingdom Duet

Holiday Hoax (Standalone)

Holiday Hire (Standalone)

The Underworld Series

Beautiful Delusions Duet

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Release Blitz: To Failure by CJ Ashworth

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: To Failure (MM PHYSIQUE, Book 1)

Author and Publisher: CJ Ashworth

Cover Artist: Wolfsparrow Covers

Release Date: October 27, 2026

Tense/POV: First person/Alternating POV — Eli's chapters in past tense, Soren's in present tense.

Genres: Contemporary MM Sports Romance (competitive bodybuilding)

Tropes:  Rivals to lovers, opposites attract, forced proximity, hurt/comfort, touch-starved, age-gap-adjacent (both men in their forties)

Themes: What a body is for; addiction and withdrawal; grief for an older brother; a father who only knows how to ask what his son weighs; asking for help

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 78 000 words / approx. 300 pages

It is a standalone story with a hard-won HEA. It does not end on a cliffhanger. 

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He calls it strength. Knowing when to stop.

In a sport that runs on the word more — more size, more chemistry, more — Eli has spent fifteen years on the opposite one: enough.

He competes natural, carving his body down to exactly what it should be and no further — a shape that has to win on proportion, because it gave up winning on size. He trains before dawn, alone — the hand at everyone else's back on the last brutal rep, and no one at his. He calls that strength. Knowing when to stop.

Then Soren walks into his gym. Open-division, sponsored, engineered past anything a natural body can do — and still convinced, in the place no trophy touches, that he isn't enough. He's everything Eli swore off. He's also the first man who's ever wanted to stand at his back.

A rivalry of opposites becomes something Eli has no careful word for, just as the chemistry in Soren's blood starts taking him apart.

 

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR 

A note from the author: I build these books and write them with an AI as my drafting partner — the English prose is AI-drafted from my direction and worked over by me, line by line. My KDP listing declares it in full. The cover is not AI.

 

CONTENT NOTES 

Running through the book: anabolic steroid use, dependence and withdrawal — no substance is named and no injection appears on the page. Heart damage caused by it, diagnosed late and permanent. Extreme contest preparation, and a body watched in a mirror until the watching has stopped being a choice.

In particular: a man whose brother died of this sport at thirty-one, and a father who has only ever known how to ask his son what he weighs. One scene in which one of these men goes looking for the cruelest thing he can say, says it, and puts a hand on the other's chest and shoves. A video of the two of them, filmed without their knowledge, makes the rounds of the sport. Two explicit sex scenes. In a late chapter, a character describes how close he once came to going off a bridge and feels the pull of it return; he does not act on it, and he asks for help.

Not in this book: blood, beatings, sexual assault, cheating, homophobic abuse, or a coming-out story. Nobody is outed to their family. Nobody dies inside these pages.

 

Before five most mornings the gym is mine, which only means it’s a thing nobody else is awake to want. I’d come up off the bench an hour earlier out of the dream I always have — my brother on a stage, the lights, my own hand not finishing the reach — and done what I do after that dream, which is go to the rack in the dark and take the one or two reps I make every client of mine leave behind. I unrack the bar onto my back, step out, and go down with it, alone. There’s no one to catch it out of the hole. There never is. At the bottom — where the legs hand off to nothing, where a man wants the spot most — I drive it up myself, rack it, and the iron rings too loud in the empty room and sinks. That’s the morning. Every morning. I’d have told you I wanted nothing else from one.

By the time the gray started thinking about coming up I’d wiped down, pulled a shirt on, and gone up front to open — counted the float, keyed the register, reached to turn the sign on the door.

That’s when it went, and let a man in out of the dark. Cold air came crawling in low across the floor. I looked up, my hand still on the sign.

A man in the doorway, streetlight at his back, and for a second only a shape — and the shape was big. You read it before he’s all the way in: the spread of the shoulders, the column of the neck, the swell where the arms tie in. Enhanced, said the clerk in the back of my skull, before I’d asked it to. Natural doesn’t lay thickness on like that, and I’d know. I’m one of the ones it never came to.

But it wasn’t the size that stopped me.

He came off the door and the light let go of him, and in those few steps across my floor the ceiling went, all at once, low. Same rubber, same chalk, and still there stood some other height over his head the building hadn’t accounted for — a body that belonged on the far side of the wall of light, come down to this side of it by some clerical error. The illusion had me in under a second. Beyond the ceiling.

The body moved before I did. Something in my chest jumped without asking my leave, skipped the whole practiced read I do without thinking, and only wanted to look. To look longer. I caught up late to how rude the wanting was and pulled back exactly as far as I’d been drawn.

Then the glare came off his face. Not handsome — that wasn’t it, and it wasn’t trying to be. The eyes. Eyes used to being priced, and behind them something held hard and shut, that wasn’t going across any counter no matter who was paying.

And I’d looked up into those eyes before.

Never met him. Didn’t know the face, the name, would have sworn on anything I’d never stood in a room with him in my life. And still the dream came up whole behind my open eyes — my brother under the finals light, finding the back row without trying, his eyes coming down to land on a boy who couldn’t lift his hand to answer. I knew the exact distance of those eyes. I’d spent the whole night reaching for it and waking before I closed it. And here a man stood in my doorway at the wrong end of that same distance, and started across it, toward the counter, toward me.

“You’re not open,” he said. Not a question; he’d seen the sign.

“Few more minutes.”

He didn’t leave, and he didn’t come further in. He stood there and let his eyes go around the room instead — the rubber curling at the edges, the mirror on half the walls with the haze that won’t come off, the plates worn smooth past reading. Not pricing it. Making sure of it. A man checking whether a place was what he’d hoped, and the thing he seemed to be hoping was not that it’d be any good.

“I’m not a member,” he said. “What’s a day pass.”

I told him the visitor rate, which is low, the way everything here is low, and slid the waiver across the counter. “Sign at the bottom.”

CJ Ashworth writes MM romance set inside physique competition — the gyms at four in the morning, the food weighed to the gram, the years of it, and what men manage to do for each other in the middle of all that.

CJ started lifting at forty-five and first stood on a competition stage at fifty — then twice a year for the three years after that. The competing stopped; the training didn't. Fifty-five now, and still five or six mornings a week, ninety minutes at a time.

The gyms in these books aren't real gyms. The four a.m. is real, and so is the arithmetic.

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Book Blitz: At the Corner of Eden and Darkness Series by R.J. Garcia

The Shadowless
R.J. Garcia
(At the Corner of Eden and Darkness, #1)
Publication date: November 26th 2025
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

Modern Faerie Tale Meets Murder

Mae Dawson returns to her family’s cabin in a mysterious forest to search for her missing sister. One night, she goes to sleep in her bed only to awaken in the depths of the woods surrounded by eerie and indiscernible voices that lead her to her sister’s grave.

A year has passed. Mae has pieced her life back together. She has a supportive boyfriend and is completing her first semester in college. However, everything begins to unravel when strange late-night calls come from the beyond, and a malevolent force begins to invade her friends.

Adding to her unease is the presence of a mysterious stranger, Brandon Sills, who seems to lurk in the shadows, watching her every move. Despite the warning bells ringing in her mind, Mae feels an inexplicable attraction to him.

As mortal and magical forces conspire against them, Mae must trust Brandon to uncover the secrets of the fae. Secrets that will change her life forever, if she even survives.

The Spellbound
R.J. Garcia
(At the Corner of Eden and Darkness, #2)
Publication date: December 2nd 2026
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

Magic Meets Mayhem

Back in Willows End, Mae and Brandon find themselves in the thick of things after kidnapping her ex. As they attempt to banish a changeling, Mae begins to question her sanity, and the threat of a serial killer draws ever closer.

Even sleep offers no reprieve. Mae can no longer find Emmie in the Garden—her dreams of wonder have become nightmares. Before long, she discovers her sister is lost in Limbo.

One night, Mae is alone in the cabin when she hears someone breaking in. Her only hope is her possessed ex—chained in the spare room. Mae is forced to choose the lesser of two evils. Once Mae makes her choice, the changeling assumes human form, an ancient prophecy stirs, and nothing is as it seems.

Haunted by fear and doubt, Mae clings to her love for Brandon, the last sure thing in her life, and her greatest hope of saving her sister. But are things really as certain as they seem?

 

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—

SNEAK PEEK QUOTES:

The Shadowless:

“I pulled myself out of a dream and glared with a pirate eye at my buzzing phone. Then I caught sight of Emmie’s name flashing on the screen. There would be nothing unusual about it except, of course, it’s the middle of the night and my sister’s dead.”

The Spellbound:

“It was more than the way his blue eyes twinkled, and how his mouth moved like honey. It was more than him being handsome, kind, and magical. It was the feeling I had, a connection I can’t quite explain.”

—

R.J. Garcia is a wife, and proud mom of two smart kids. She earned her MSW and worked with foster children and as a school social worker. Writing has been her other great love. She has been writing short stories for as long as she can remember. To her amazement, those short stories became novels!

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