The Book Marketing Tips and Author Success Podcast by Penny Sansevieri and Amy Cornell X: by @Bookgal Instagram: @therealbookgal

The Book Marketing Tips & Author Success Podcast is a game-changer for authors who want to thrive in today’s publishing landscape.

Penny Sansevieri and Amy Cornell blend practical advice with deep industry insights, offering something for both new and experienced authors. Authors can expect honest guidance—no gimmicks, no pipedreams—just straightforward strategies you can actually use. And because this industry can be tough, we keep it light with a bit of humor along the way. If you’re ready to level up your author career, we’ve got you covered, no detail left unaddressed.

 

Our reviews to date speak for themselves, with a lot of authors raving about what they’re learning and encouraging others to get on board!

 We believe in education, and creating a more savvy publishing industry – one episode at a time.

Website: https://amarketingexpert.com/author-podcast/

Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/book-marketing-tips-and-author-success-podcast/id1500195014

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4iuNYw0UqaaHegHHzF2J4F

Praise:

Q&A With Author

What kinds of authors are tuning in?

Honestly, authors in all stages of book publishing and promotion - and it’s actually really exciting (and sometimes surprising) to see who’s listening. We mostly get this info from our reviews and authors who write in with feedback. But we have authors who rely on our show while looking for agents and or publishers, authors who are finishing up their books and thinking ahead about releases, and then on the other end of the spectrum we have authors tuning in that feel stuck and don’t know what they’re doing wrong, or the opportunities they may be missing.

 

Is the show for marketing DIYers or for finding the right people to hire?

It’s applicable to both, and even authors that fall somewhere in between. Some authors seem to tune in assuming they’ll handle everything themselves, and then they realize they need more support, maybe in very specific areas. We get a lot of authors contacting us about a collaboration after listening to the show, but you’ll also see from our reviews that there are a lot of DIYers out there just looking to do all the right things.

 

What if I’m still writing my first book?

Take notes! There’s no such thing as being too prepared, and we’d encourage you to zero in on shows that are clearly about production choices, like editing, covers, publishing options, etc. And then the branding shows too, plan ahead for what your goals are as an author brand, because it will only lighten the load as you get closer to publishing that first book. 

 

I’ve been publishing books for a while, can I still learn something?

Absolutely. We have plenty of shows for newbie authors, but things are constantly evolving in publishing and book marketing, and how to best connect with readers, that veteran authors need to stay on top of to ensure the upward momentum continues. We like to think our shows are also really great for authors who feel they’ve plateaued a bit and are looking for new ways to generate quality exposure.

 

How do you come up with ideas for the show?

We rely a lot on listener requests. We also pull a lot of ideas from the calls Penny does with prospective clients. And Amy likes to add in show topics based on the day-to-day challenges she knows AME clients are having. Publishing is complex, it’s very, very hard to know it all while also writing your next book, and working your everyday job, and giving much needed attention to family and friends, and other commitments, so we aim to be the insurance most authors need to check all the boxes along the way. 

 

What kinds of authors are tuning in?

Honestly, authors in all stages of book publishing and promotion - and it’s actually really exciting (and sometimes surprising) to see who’s listening. We mostly get this info from our reviews and authors who write in with feedback. But we have authors who rely on our show while looking for agents and or publishers, authors who are finishing up their books and thinking ahead about releases, and then on the other end of the spectrum we have authors tuning in that feel stuck and don’t know what they’re doing wrong, or the opportunities they may be missing.

 

Is the show for marketing DIYers or for finding the right people to hire?

It’s applicable to both, and even authors that fall somewhere in between. Some authors seem to tune in assuming they’ll handle everything themselves, and then they realize they need more support, maybe in very specific areas. We get a lot of authors contacting us about a collaboration after listening to the show, but you’ll also see from our reviews that there are a lot of DIYers out there just looking to do all the right things.

 

What if I’m still writing my first book?

Take notes! There’s no such thing as being too prepared, and we’d encourage you to zero in on shows that are clearly about production choices, like editing, covers, publishing options, etc. And then the branding shows too, plan ahead for what your goals are as an author brand, because it will only lighten the load as you get closer to publishing that first book. 

 

I’ve been publishing books for a while, can I still learn something?

Absolutely. We have plenty of shows for newbie authors, but things are constantly evolving in publishing and book marketing, and how to best connect with readers, that veteran authors need to stay on top of to ensure the upward momentum continues. We like to think our shows are also really great for authors who feel they’ve plateaued a bit and are looking for new ways to generate quality exposure.

 

How do you come up with ideas for the show?

We rely a lot on listener requests. We also pull a lot of ideas from the calls Penny does with prospective clients. And Amy likes to add in show topics based on the day-to-day challenges she knows AME clients are having. Publishing is complex, it’s very, very hard to know it all while also writing your next book, and working your everyday job, and giving much needed attention to family and friends, and other commitments, so we aim to be the insurance most authors need to check all the boxes along the way. 

 

Do you ever do author interviews? 

We don’t do author interviews, but we definitely encourage authors to send in show ideas, questions, and challenges they’re having. And please send in any successful promotions you’ve done or let us know if you’re doing something super unique and exciting that’s working for your brand, because we’ve definitely mentioned authors that are doing positive things and will link to their Amazon Author pages in our show notes to give them some love and send traffic their way!

The Karma Factor by Thomas Lane February 10 - March 7, 2025 Virtual Book Tour!

 

NYPD Detective James Early wanted out. Taking his death wish into a tenement on the Lower east side, he stepped into a hail of machine-gun fire…and waited. But the bullets never arrived. Somehow they had been “diverted” and his life saved. Now he had to find out why.

Ricochetting between the mountains of Tibet, the streets of New York City and the haunted corridors of past lives, Early attempts to track down this mystery. A devastating truth from his previous lifetime awaits him. At its core lies a pure and innocent love that led to carnage and death.

In the process of discovery, however, Early mysteriously gains access to a database of past lives (the Akashic Records), and begins to understand the submerged element that underlies the human condition—the godfather of change. Karma.

Infused with this new awareness, Early hits the streets—this time “awakened” to the deeper layers. Immediately, he is flung into the frantic hunt for an unknown assassin who has declared a private war on America and has already killed seven times.

While the combined forces of the NYPD, FBI and Interpol comb the streets looking for clues, James Early follows the twisting light.

In the end, it will come down to a wild card: The Karma Factor

Praise for The Karma Factor:

"The Karma Factor not only delivers on all its IOUs—it provides ample food for thought as to how we live our lives and our connection to the cosmos."
~ Joey Madia, Into the Outer Realms

"Demonstrating remarkable literary talent, Thomas Lane transcends the troubled police detective trope by incorporating elements of Eastern philosophy, predestination and reincarnation in this fast-paced thriller. In the tradition of The DaVinci Code and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Lane’s debut novel The Karma Factor is entertaining and thought-provoking; introducing readers to characters and concepts that are not often given center stage in Western culture…"
~ BOOKTRIB

"Tom Lane has written a powerful story of inner transformation and outer suspense and heroism that will have you turning pages, inspiring you to understand your own life within a new cosmic framework. I couldn't put it down."
~ Robert Thurman, Professor Emeritus of Tibetan Buddhism, Translator for the Dalai Lama and Author of Wisdom Is Bliss

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Supernatural Thriller, Visionary Fiction, Metaphysical Thriller
Published by: Waterside Productions
Publication Date: November 1, 2022
Number of Pages: 352
ISBN: 1958848212 (ISBN-13: 978-1958848210)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

In times of crisis, James Early often found himself listening to the background noise of the city, the churning mantra of Manhattan that drifted up from the streets below. Somehow all those harsh single notes—the honking horns, the squealing brakes—could blend together and end up sounding restful, like the wash of the sea.

But tonight, watching her put her clothes back on, the air was charged and full of static. He had his reasons, but he hated himself for causing her this moment.

Lit only by the flickering light from the fireplace, Kelli Girard stood with her back to him, pulling on her skirt. Usually, after being together, getting dressed was a graceful act, a physical celebration of her womanhood. But on this evening, her motions were clipped and terse. Right then, the world was an ugly place. On top of everything else, she broke another nail fighting with the buttons on her blouse. She spoke without looking up.

“Come on, Early. This stinks. Throw me a bone here. Say something that makes sense.” Balancing on one foot, she leaned down and slipped on a high heel. “You won’t even give me the satisfaction of a cliché. There’s no ‘other woman.’ You’re not doing the ‘you deserve better’ bit. Nothing. Just—bang! It’s over. And you can’t even tell me why?”

She stood up and smoothed down her clothes. “But I’ll tell you how it feels. Like you’ve had your little fling with the secretary. And now it’s time to toss her back into the general pool where she belongs. Cold, Early. Really cold.”

He remained silent, compulsively rubbing his forehead, pushing back a clump of grey-tinged dark hair. In truth, there was too much to say, but words would trivialize it. And it had nothing to do with her, nothing to do with anything he understood. All he knew was that his mind was finally giving way. The hostile voices and images were crowding him out. And he couldn’t access the language to describe it…

Early finally stood up. At thirty-eight years old and driven, he was still lean and muscular. A hybrid of Irish and Jewish ancestry, his thin, sculpted face seemed overwhelmed by a collection of strong irregular features. Growing up in Brooklyn and living the daily warfare of the streets had deepened and darkened the effect, giving him an intense, somewhat brooding presence. As he turned toward her, his expression remained cloaked.

“You’re making it worse. This was never about the big love. We knew that from the start. We’re friends, remember? Let’s leave it there before we regret the whole thing.”

She turned away from him, almost fiercely, then checked herself and sighed. “What’s the use? You’ve got everyone else duped. I hear the talk. By day, the great legendary cop—intuitive, ballsy. Down at the station, a James Early hunch is considered gospel. And, on top of all that, he’s a regular good guy. Nothing but hard work and ‘go team, go.’”

She squinted at him in the semidarkness. “But after hours? Well, strange things come out to play. Guy’s got a flip side. He’s doing women, liquor, God knows what else. And here’s the sad part. He’s working hard at it, but the bad boy thing doesn’t fit him. Doesn’t fit him at all.”

She paused, retrieved her earrings from the bedside table, and jammed them into her purse. “So who’s James Early? The jury’s absolutely still out.”

Early grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen. I’m bone-tired, and I’m not right. I have nightmares, vicious ones. I wake up sweating, with no memories—just worn out. And the pressure never quits, never gives me a day off. Right now, all I want to do is go sit on a beach somewhere and forget. But I can’t. And there’s no room . . . no room for anything else until I sort it all out.”

He slackened his grip. “I can’t care if you don’t understand. I’m just asking you not to take it personally.”

His words slapped her quiet. For a moment, she stopped her barrage and actually studied him. It had only been five months ago, but no, this was not the same man she had flirted with in a Soho bar. The sharp features seemed worn down, the grey-green eyes colder, more distant. Even his skin looked paler, drawn more tightly across his cheekbones. With his guard down, her sometimes-lover did seem ten years older and running very rough.

“Hey Early, it’s the twentieth century. You feel messed up—you see somebody. There are medications that—”

“Zombies and junkies. No thanks. I’ll take my chances.” He mustered his best smile. “I just need to regroup. I’ll get through it. People do it every day.”

Kelli resumed her packing. Wadding up her negligee into a ball, she tossed it unceremoniously into her overnight bag. “I thought I got in there,” she said softly, “but I swear there’s an electric fence around you.”

He shrugged. It was true –– he avoided real intimacy. It was all about sex and liquor–– mind numbing sensation and quick routes to oblivion that had gotten hm through the nights. Now even that wasn’t working.

The flames in the fireplace had softened into embers—a steady orange sheen bathing the room. As Kelly zipped up her bag, Early slipped on his underwear and trousers, then got her coat from the closet. Taking her arm, he navigated her around the chaos on the cluttered floor. Her traditional comment about the maid’s night off went unspoken. At the door, he put his arm around her waist. His six feet towered above her diminutive frame.

“It’s better for both of us this way. I mean it.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Please take care of yourself.”

“Whatever.” She fixed her collar. “I’m not going to hold my breath, but if you need or want . . . hell, just a friend, call me.”

She leaned up against him and gave him a girlish kiss on the cheek. Turning quickly, she disappeared down the stairs into the darkness of the lower landing.

When he could no longer hear the click of her heels, he closed the door softly, then sagged against it, exhausted from his efforts. It was getting harder and harder to hold the surface together while the foundation was breaking into pieces…

He willed himself upright and into the living room, where he collapsed into the armchair in front of the fireplace. Alone now, the fire hissed and danced quietly before him.

His eyes scrutinized the small studio apartment. He was struck by its sadness, struck by the pervading sense of loneliness. The room was inhabited, yes, but not lived in. It hadn't always been that way.

When, as a rookie cop, he had first moved in, he had commanded the space. Within months, he had turned it into a bastion of discipline and masculine aesthetics: dark wood and brick and things in their rightful places. As his condition worsened, however, things unraveled. Chaos was an easy mistress. Now, from the unmade bed to a floor strewn with empty bottles, pizza boxes, and newspapers, no sense of home was being articulated. Maybe it never would again.

Early leaned over and pulled his .38 revolver from the shoulder holster on the end table. It felt like a touchstone; the weight, the cold metal in his hand oddly soothing. The cylinder spun effortlessly beneath his fingertips. Round and round. He lifted it to his ear and smiled obliquely. Chamber music.

With the heel of his hand, he brought the spinning cylinder to an abrupt halt, then unloaded a single bullet. Turning it around between his thumb and index finger, Early examined it carefully. Sexy. A jewel of death.

Rotating the chamber slowly, he emptied the rest of the ammo into his hand until all six bullets lay nestled in his palm. They were asleep now. A family. At peace in their snug metal jackets. Then, as if feeding them to a wild animal, he began to toss the bullets, one by one, into the fireplace.

“Here’s one for the sickos. One for the cop killers.”

Then two more.

“For all the scumbag lawyers, corrupt politicos. You’re the worse. You keep it all going. You’re supposed to know better.”

Without warning, the first slug hit meltdown and exploded, sending a shower of shattered brick from inside the chimney down onto the flaming logs. The second and third followed quickly as ash and smoke belched into the room.

Early’s face remained impassive as he fingered the last two shells. He isolated one.

“For all of you. Your crap. Not mine anymore.”

The next eruption came moments later, kicking out a fireball onto his carpet. A chunk of metal whizzed past his ear and tore into the wallpaper on the opposite wall.

The hallway outside filled with the sudden cacophony of rattling deadbolts sliding and doors flinging open and people yelling. Early ignored the commotion. Unaware of the silent tears on his cheek, he leaned closer to the pit of swirling sparks and ashes, the last bullet resting in the middle of his open hand.

“And this one, James Early, is for you. You and all your ghosts. You’re broken. Don’t know how to fix yourself.”

A furious knocking at his door startled him back to reality.

“Hey! Hey in there! Early, you all right?”

Disoriented, the detective looked around. Caustic smoke swirled around the room. Live coals glowed on the carpet and from the side of the armchair. He stared down at the bullet still cupped in his palm. It seemed out of focus. Surreal.

The knocking came again, this time louder.

But now the sounds were far away, in someone else’s bad movie. Placing the final bullet back into his revolver, he adjusted the chamber. When he needed it, it would be there.

Slowly and deliberately, Early got up, went to his closet, and finished dressing. His plainclothes uniform never varied: white shirt, tie, black shoes. Beneath the grey sports jacket, his revolver and holster pressed against his ribs.

Trench coat under his arm, he crawled through the window and stepped out onto the fire escape. The sudden shift was abrasive. A sharp April wind lashed at his face. A massive city roared below.

Hands gripping the railing, he leaned out into the night. All around, the inky skyline peaked and plunged. Above, the stars shone like dull silver—cold, eternal nails hammered into the night sky.

As the wail of a siren grew closer, Early descended, zigzagging his way down to Seventy-Eighth Street.

One thing was obvious. Whatever forces were conspiring, whatever madness was overtaking him, it was about to hit critical mass.

***

Excerpt from The Karma Factor by Thomas Lane. Copyright 2022 by Thomas Lane. Reproduced with permission from Thomas Lane. All rights reserved.

Born and raised in Connecticut, Thomas Lane is a multi-dimensional creative drawn to spaces where art, spirit, and social justice intersect. He is the author of The Artists’ Manifesto–– a tribute to the power of the Arts, its value to a society that has forgotten the precious nature of life.

In addition to a book of poetry, screenplays and paintings, he recently recorded a CD of his songs, entitled Hotel Earth under the stage name, Trakker.

Politically active since his teens, Thomas subsequently created The Helen Hudson Foundation, a charitable organization focused on social issues –– including homelessness, racism, and the environment. He currently lives with his wife in Rhode Island.

Catch Up With Thomas Lane:
www.ThomasLane.com
Amazon Author Profile
Instagram - @thomaslane494
YouTube - @thomaslane2402
Facebook - @musicwordimage

 

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Candle With Care: A Magic Candle Shop Mystery by Valona Jones Book Tour~

About Candle With Care

Candle With Care

 A Magic Candle Shop Mystery 

Paranormal Cozy Mystery 

4th in Series 

Setting  

Georgia 

Publisher

 Muddle House (February 11, 2025) 

Print length ‏  

290 pages 

Digital ASIN ‏ ‎

 B0DT2GB9BD

Amateur sleuth and candle maker Tabby Winslow and her twin sister, Sage, are finally making a go of The Book and Candle Shop. It seems like the only heat they’ll feel this June is from the strong sunshine in Savannah, Georgia. Then their acquaintance Detective Sharmila Belfor is gravely injured in a vehicular assault and is in a coma. Cops turn the city upside down searching for the offender, keying in on the detective’s boyfriend Herbert R Ellis, her felon cousin, and her case files. Fearing the police are looking at the wrong people, Herbert begs Tabby to investigate. He knows what most don’t, that Tabby has psychic abilities that allow her to home in on emotions and motives. 

Since he’s a lifelong friend of Dr. Quig Quigsly, Tabby’s fiancé, she agrees. But before she finds answers, Sage’s former coworker is murdered, and her twin pleads with Tabby to find the killer. 

With dead ends at every turn, Tabby fears the city’s troubles are paranormal in origin. By investigating the crimes, she risks exposure of the way her family manipulates energy and uses other psychic talents. 

Keeping a low profile is essential. Meanwhile, Quig’s parents are throwing them a black-tie engagement party in two weeks, and Tabby is burning the candle at both ends. Can Tabby end the crime wave and protect her loved ones before she is quenched?

About Valona Jones

Valona Jones, aka Maggie Toussaint, writes paranormal cozies set in coastal Georgia. Her latest release, CANDLE WITH CARE, book 4 in the A Magic Candle Shop Mysteries, came out on February 11. 2025. 

Under the name of Maggie Toussaint, she also publishes cozy mysteries and romantic suspense. Her pen name for a three-book science fiction ecothriller is Rigel Carson.

 In total, she has published 29 works of fiction and won multiple awards. She lives in coastal Georgia, where time and tide wait for no one.

 Visit her sites

 https://valonajones.com 

 https://maggietoussaint.com

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February 13 

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  REVIEW

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AUTHOR GUEST POST

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 Celticlady’s Reviews 

 SPOTLIGHT

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 FUONLYKNEW  

SPOTLIGHT

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 Ascroft, eh? 

AUTHOR GUEST POST

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 Socrates Book Reviews 

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 AUTHOR GUEST POST

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 Sapphyria’s Book Reviews 

 REVIEW

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 Storybook Lady 

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Muse by Mychael Black Cover Art: Bryan Keller New Release! @changelingpinress

Title: Muse

Author: Mychael Black

Cover Art: Bryan Keller

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense

Themes: Bisexual, Multisexual, Pansexual & Transsexual, Magic, Sorcery, and Witchcraft, Multiple Partners, Rock Star Romance, Vampires

Series: Fragile Web (#3)

Multiverse: Blood & Fire (#4)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 72

Description

Treya Fischer finally has everything she’s ever wanted -- two guys who adore her, and her dream job as Fragile Web’s lead singer.

Now she and her band members have the opportunity of a lifetime -- a record deal. But life outside the band is another matter entirely. Determined to rein in her scandalous ways, her parents have enlisted the help of the last man she ever wants to deal with again -- her ex.

Vampire David Garrison has officially joined the band as their new keyboardist. His partner, Ryan Parrish is their newest roadie. Not only are David and Ryan two of the hottest guys Treya’s ever met, they’re totally into her, as well as one another. They’ll do anything to protect her -- especially from her jealous, manipulative, cheating son-of-a-bitch of an ex. There’s nothing they can’t manage, together.

Excerpt

Muse (Fragile Web 3)

Mychael Black

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2025 Mychael Black

Treya Fischer glanced at her cell phone and finally put it on silent. It kept ringing, but at least she couldn’t hear it. No doubt she’d get a string of texts once her mother gave up trying to call. She sighed and got out of the car. Her folks had never approved of her lifestyle, her friends’ lifestyles, their music, or her career choice. It didn’t matter that Fragile Web was growing in popularity and demand around the city. It didn’t matter that she made more than enough money to live comfortably without having to ask her parents for a single dime. She’d never be the perfect daughter they wanted. Her sister filled that spot quite well.

The door opened, and she smiled. The guys hovered, fiercely protective as always, but now they had two more who’d joined the “shelter Treya from the world” cause. Not that she disliked it. Their form of sheltering was nothing like her parents’. The guys loved her for who she was, what she could do. They didn’t try to change her or make her fit into a mold.

“You okay?” Michael asked as she headed toward him. He took the case with her favorite mic and held open the door for her. The rest of her usual equipment stayed in the rehearsal loft until shows.

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh, holding up her phone and showing the missed call notification.

Michael grimaced. “I’m sorry. Anything I can do?”

Treya shrugged, and Michael shut the door. She led the way back toward the rehearsal room. “Not really. It’s probably the same old song and dance she’s been doing for years. ‘You’re better than this. You could be an opera star.’ Blah, blah, blah.”

Michael opened up the door leading into their soundproofed rehearsal space. “You are a star. Hell, Fragile Web wouldn’t be what it is without you.”

She smiled and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. You guys are just as important, you know.”

“Honey, you could walk out onto a stage in a burlap sack and sing the phonebook, and the audience would be eating out of the palm of your hand,” Scott said from the table where he was changing strings on his guitar.

Treya laughed and took her mic case from Michael. “I think you’re all biased, but thanks.”

“Maybe,” Sam said from behind his drumkit, “but we’re right.”

Treya started to reply, but two men stepped into the room. She felt herself blush when they both smiled at her. David Garrison had officially joined the band as their new keyboardist, and his partner Ryan Parrish was now one of their two roadies. Sam’s partner Cole had swooped in to help in that capacity as well.

“My dear muse,” David said, “you are magnificent just as you are. Never let anyone -- not even your parents -- tell you otherwise.”

Treya bit the corner of her lower lip and had to look away from the vampire’s knowing gaze. The attraction between herself, David, and Ryan was no secret, but they’d yet to act on it. Treya had no idea where to start anyway. She’d never been with two people before -- and definitely not with a vampire.

Scott finished and took his place at his amp. Michael strapped on his bass and turned on his own amplifier. Sam did a couple of test kicks to make sure his pedal was in the right position. As Treya took out her beloved Sennheiser MD 441, the exact model Stevie Nicks used, she watched David get his own keyboard situated on its stand right above Treya’s Korg Kronos. She couldn’t believe they’d lucked out in finding him. Not that anything was bad with Sam’s singing, but David just added a bit of sultry oomph that meshed well with Treya. Of course, she was probably a bit biased.

David smiled at her, and a shiver ran throughout her entire body.

Okay, definitely biased.

“Did you guys hear about the scout?” Scott asked them all.

Treya turned to him. “No…”

Scott nodded and plugged in his guitar. “Black Nebula Records has been poking around the area, even hitting some shows.”

“Seriously?” Sam asked.

“Yep. Can you imagine…?”

Treya blew out a breath. “That would be… oh, my God. Beyond amazing. What are the chances of someone seeing us live?”

Scott shrugged. “There’s no telling.”

“Even more reason to really tighten things up,” Treya said. She switched on the PA system. “Let’s get to it then!”

#gayromance #romance #paranormal #ChangelingPress #smut #spicybooks #sizzlingreads #lgbtq #winterrreads #booklovers #smutlovers #smutreaders #rockstar #paranormal #darkfantasy

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Mychael Black has been writing professionally since 2005. He writes gay romance and erotica, but also het romance as Carys Seraphine and queer fantasy as Katherine Cook.

He's an avid PC gamer with a love for RPGs, a horror fanatic, and a fantasy nut. He also has a weakness for anything relating to skulls, dogs, and Spongebob Squarepants.

Mychael lives on the Eastern Shore of the US with his family. He loves to hear from readers, be it via email or Facebook.

Website | Facebook

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THE BALLAD OF THE GREAT VALUE BOYS by Ken Harris February 10 - March 7, 2025 Virtual Book Tour!

 

FROM THE CASE FILES OF STEVE ROCKFISH

Private Investigators Steve Rockfish and Jawnie McGee's loyalty is tested when they are called upon to rescue a friend whose plan to grift a local Militia goes awry. The ruse rebrands expiring MREs as Q-Rations, focuses on fear, and targets those with an anti-government mindset.

Rockfish and McGee arrive in the dilapidated steel town of Grindsville and are quick to realize the Penn Forest Patriots are more than weekend LARPers. The partner's investigation uncovers a devious plot to light the fuse on a series of domestic terrorism events and throw the country into chaos.

The lack of a timely response by Federal Law Enforcement swiftly constitutes an emergency on Rockfish and McGee’s part. The plot forces them to empty their analytical and investigative skill sets across two states in an attempt to mitigate the threat. Can they prevent the terror cell from igniting the next insurrection and running out the clock on America’s democracy?

Praise for The Ballad of the Great Value Boys:

"Steve Rockfish is back and kicking militia ass. In fact, the whole crew is back, busting balls as they solve crimes and track down the bad guys. The wisecracks fly fast and furious. So do the twists and turns. The bad guys are badder, the danger more dangerous, and every character as endearing as they are dysfunctional. I couldn't turn the pages fast enough."
~ Haris Orkin, award-winning author of The James Flynn Escapades

"Prepare for twists, turns, and more than a few laugh-out loud moments in this rollercoaster of a thriller that pits wise-cracking private investigator Steve Rockfish and his band of unlikely cohorts against a right-wing extremist militia group with a dangerous agenda."
~ Patti Liszkay, author of The Equal and Opposite Reactions Trilogy

"Great gobs of serious yet hilarious crime-solving by Steve and Jawnie, along with their cast of friends ranging from dependable to what-the-hell-now crazy. Absolutely a fun ride! But I warn you, you'll want to read the entire series tonight."
~ Val Conrad, author of The Julie Madigan Thriller Series

Book Details:

Genre: Crime Fiction
Published by: Black Rose Writing
Publication Date: February 6, 2025
Number of Pages: 350
ISBN: 9781685135539 (ISBN10: 1685135536)
Series: From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish series, Book 4
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Black Rose Writing

Read an excerpt:

You've reached Rockfish & McGee, Investigative Specialists. At the tone, leave your name and message. Someone will get back to you at our earliest convenience. [Beep]

"Steve, why don't you ever answer your cell? I'm in deep shit here and you are my one call. Grindsville. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, heading west. The locals have me locked up on a trumped-up charge. You gotta believe me, Steve. I didn't do a damn thing..."

The partners stood around Lynn's desk and listened to the voicemail, left the previous evening. Their administrative assistant had heard Raffi's plea for help first, and immediately reached out to Rockfish and Jawnie to advise of a friend of the office's predicament.

"I'm guessing you didn't pick up his call yesterday?" Jawnie said, with a perturbed look on her face.

"Would you want to talk to Raffi every time he calls?" Rockfish said, raising his own eyebrows. "Plus, I didn't know it was him. The notification came up, Unknown Caller, and I forwarded it to the office line. I assumed it was spam, figured we'd listen and handle it on Monday. And well, here we are. Plus, I didn't want to mute the television. It was that new Marvel movie, Hawkgirl Takes Topeka."

"DC Universe, but I totally get where you're coming from," Jawnie said with a grin. "Too bad it wasn't a scammer halfway around the world calling regarding our Medicare benefits."

"If I was his only call, then he's expecting me to come up there and bail him out. Where the hell is Grindsville, anyway?"

"Central Pennsylvania, Boss," Lynn said. She glanced up from her computer at Jawnie and Rockfish, standing on the other side. "Two hours east of Pittsburgh. What do you think he did?"

"You heard as much of that rambling message as I did. Lord knows what type of scheme he had in mind and was trying to run on the rural bumpkins," Rockfish said. He stepped back into the office's bullpen area before slumping into his favorite recliner. This is the last damn thing I need today. The Andrist case keeps raising its ugly head and I don't have the time to handle two problem children at once. Where is my morning coffee?

"Steve, you know as well as I do Raffi's voicemail changes with each money-making opportunity," Jawnie said. He hadn't noticed she followed him and had taken up her normal seat on the couch, laptop open and at the ready. "Might as well dial and listen. It might give you a leg up on what you're facing in Grindsville. Assuming you're going and someone powered down his phone. It's probably in an evidence storage locker. The call should go straight to voicemail. If you're considering following up on this."

"You know as well as I do, I can't leave him hanging," Rockfish said. "Google says it's anywhere between three and four hours to get there as the Lana flies. If I can get out of here before noon, I might have him sprung before dinner." He shifted his body in the chair and turned toward Lynn's desk. "Lynn, let's hear it."

"Speed dial four on speaker. Gimme a sec."

Rockfish and Jawnie got up and stood around Lynn's desk. They both leaned across and listened as the number rang once and rolled over to voicemail.

"Hello, you've reached the desk of Raphael Pérez, President of Patriot Meals on American Made Wheels. Please visit our website, www.Q-Rations.biz for orders and to view our FAQ. Please leave a message and a true patriot will get back to you shortly. God Bless."

"He's catering to the insurrectionists, isn't he?" Jawnie said. The concern in her face was clear, and Rockfish wasn't sure how to answer. He chose his words carefully. Raffi was a friend.

What am I going to tell her she already doesn't know? The guy will do practically anything to make a buck, no matter the gray area involved. Social, political or moral issue be damned. That's Raffi.

"Jawnie, we've all got parts of us that aren't the most desirable. Hell, look at me. Who the fuck in their right mind would want to be associated with me?"

"Are you implying I'm not in my right mind?"

"Yeah, me too," Lynn said. "Shots fired, Steve."

Rockfish walked back to his chair and stood behind it, elbows resting on the back. "That's damn well not what I meant, and you both know it."

Both women cracked smiles, and Rockfish relaxed for a minute before continuing.

"We all know he straddles that line, but I've known him longer than either of you two. The man's in it for the money. Nothing more, nothing less. Let me go figure out what kind of mess he's gotten himself into and we can revisit adjusting his moral compass when I get back."

Rockfish poured himself a cup of coffee. I'll need more than this tonight after I sweet-talk his ass out of jail. Might as well stop at the liquor store before making the drive. Hotel bar drinks are on the expensive side. Shop for a happy ending and will it into existence.

"I'm headed back to my office. Try to figure out my next couple of moves and exactly what he was doing up in the middle of nowhere." He turned and walked down the short hallway to his private office.

Once out of the sight of prying eyes, Rockfish finished constructing his homemade Irish coffee and turned on his monitor. I need to figure this mess out. The sooner the better. Patriot Meals on American Wheels and something about rations. Since the Porbeagle case, Raffi usually focused his semi-legitimate business opportunities on the bumpkins he felt he could run circles around intelligence-wise. Especially should any part of his half-assed plans go sideways. Only makes sense he zeroed on those who continue to celebrate January 6th. Best to start researching with his website and gather what I can.

Rockfish picked up his desk phone and dialed Raffi's cell again. He jotted down the URL on a pink Post-it and stuck it to the bottom of his monitor. I need to talk to Lynn. We need good old-fashioned yellow ones. At least for me.

His fingers tapped out the web address and Rockfish paused as his pinky hovered over the return key. Do I really want to know? Can't I drive up there with a credit card and pay the fine or whatever percentage of his bail the bondsman requires? You should know this already. The less you know about the man's shenanigans, the better. No chance of being sucked into the Raffi vortex.

Curiosity won out and the Q-Rations.biz website filled the screen.

In the years since Jawnie had arrived on scene, Rockfish now had more experience with the Information Super Highway. While he wasn't on her level, even he had to question the design of Raffi's cracker-jack website. Looks like a site a middle school kid made in 1998. I can almost hear the dial-up modem noise.

The top of the page read Q-Rations against a black background, the letters alternating between red, white, and blue. The image flickered every couple of seconds. How many patriots had visited the site with full intentions to buy this shit but suffered a seizure before navigating to their shopping cart? Under the image was the slogan from the voicemail, Patriot Meals on American Made Wheels. What really caught Rockfish's attention was the picture directly to the right of the bit of jingoism. Raffi stood at attention, dressed in what Rockfish thought was George C. Scott's uniform from the opening scene in Patton. His right hand cocked and saluting.

The set of balls on this guy, but give him credit, he knows his audience. Pander to them until they open their wallets and then turn the grift up a few more notches.

The rest of the site's front page laid out a story full of fear mongering and catered to the benefits of hoarding Q-Rations. Each meal would be priceless once Hillary Clinton, the newly appointed Biden Gun-Czar, came a knocking on your door. Think the supply chain is fucked six ways to Sunday now? Wait until George Soros declares martial law. Repackaged MREs? How did he come up with this idea? Rockfish imagined the interest and rising demand. He wondered where Raffi would or had gotten his supply from. He ain't cooking and packaging this shit in the basement of his townhome.

The rest of the page detailed the different options of Q-Rations available for purchase, but Rockfish had seen and read enough. He moved his mouse over to the top of the browser and printed the page, before hollering down the hallway to where Lynn and Jawnie continued to talk.

"Lynn, can you use that webcrawly thing and download me a copy of Raffi's entire website?" Rockfish said. "Chuck it on a USB along with the prison voicemail, and I'll take it with me. I'm not sure what kind of internet I'll have out in the mountains of West Central Pennsylvania."

"Gotcha, Boss. I'm on it," Lynn said.

"You're a lifesaver." Rockfish smiled to himself and heard a light knock. He glanced up to see Jawnie standing in the open doorway.

"You're going this alone? There's something to be said about going lone wolf in that area of the country, if you know what I mean. Plus, I don't have the time to find a good-looking shot for when the milk container people call for your missing person picture."

"I get it, but he's my friend, and occasional support to this office," Rockfish said with a shrug. "Listen, I'll run up there, grab a hotel, pay his fine and come back with him riding shotgun in the morning. Worst case, it's bail money instead of a fine, but at least he'll be back on the street and owe me one."

Jawnie shifted her weight from one leg to the other and leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. Rockfish understood his reasoning, hadn't fully sold his partner on the trip. In fact, Rockfish had lost count of exactly how many favors Raffi currently owed him.

"I can see you still don't think it's a grand plan. But if you come, who's going to stay here and handle Andrist? I mean, I love he keeps hiring us, but that man is a handful and I can't, in good faith, ask Lynn to deal with him on an almost daily basis." Rockfish saw this line of reasoning was an easier sell by Jawnie's nod and expression.

"He is our best client at the moment," Jawnie said. "Best paying, too."

"Coddle him. Hold his meetings at arm's length. Do whatever you need. I'll be back before noon tomorrow and be on my phone at all times," Rockfish said. He stood up and grabbed his messenger bag and laptop.

"You're leaving right this instant?"

"Yeah, I need to swing by Bass Pro Shops and pick up a few camo shirts, knit hat and a jacket. It'll be pretty cold up there and I'll blend in better. In small towns like this, the natives are restless. Just tryin' to prevent any kind of run-in."

"Better grab one of Mack's old trucker hats and by all means, don't shave," Jawnie said and stepped back out of the doorway.

Rockfish paused and held out his fist and Jawnie bumped it. He picked up the USB from Lynn on his way out the door and auto-started Lana before stepping out into the February cold.

***

Excerpt from The Ballad of the Great Value Boys by Ken Harris. Copyright 2025 by Ken Harris. Reproduced with permission from Ken Harris. All rights reserved.

 

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Ken Harris retired from the FBI, after thirty-two years, as a cybersecurity executive. With over three decades writing intelligence products for senior Government officials, Ken provides unique perspectives on the conventional fast-paced crime thriller. He is the author of the “From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish” series. He spends days with his wife Nicolita, and two Labradors, Shady and Chalupa Batman. Evenings are spent playing Walkabout Mini Golf and cheering on Philadelphia sports. Ken firmly believes Pink Floyd, Irish whiskey and a Montecristo cigar are the only muses necessary. He is a native of New Jersey and currently resides in Virginia’s Northern Neck.

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