#novels — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #novels, aggregated by home.social.
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Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
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Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
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Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
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Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
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Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
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Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
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Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
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Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
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Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
-
Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
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Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#books #darkfantasy #fantasy #fiction #horror #novels #reading #steampunk #writing -
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#books #darkfantasy #fantasy #fiction #horror #novels #reading #steampunk #writing -
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#books #darkfantasy #fantasy #fiction #horror #novels #reading #steampunk #writing -
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#books #darkfantasy #fantasy #fiction #horror #novels #reading #steampunk #writing -
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#fantasy #horror #writing #books #novels #fiction #steampunk #reading #darkfantasy -
GOOSE CREEK HOLLER is featured in the Book Funnel promotion, NOBODY IS INNOCENT. Nothing could be truer in my Appalachian thriller, where even the good guys have to bend the rules and the law to survive. Check out all the other great titles in the promo and then CLICK ON GOOSE CREEK HOLLER to learn more! https://books.bookfunnel.com/nobody-is-innocent/ym4sbqxlru
#books #selfPromo #indieAuthor #indieAuthors #innocent #goosecreekholler #book #indie #mastodon #bookstodon #booksky #rural #ruralnoir #grittyNovels #gritlit #novels #novel #author #authors #reading #readingCommunity #fediverse #thriller #crimeFiction #mastodon #sophiajanehayden #writersCoffeeClub #writer #mysteryNovel #mystery -
GOOSE CREEK HOLLER is featured in the Book Funnel promotion, NOBODY IS INNOCENT. Nothing could be truer in my Appalachian thriller, where even the good guys have to bend the rules and the law to survive. Check out all the other great titles in the promo and then CLICK ON GOOSE CREEK HOLLER to learn more! https://books.bookfunnel.com/nobody-is-innocent/ym4sbqxlru
#books #selfPromo #indieAuthor #indieAuthors #innocent #goosecreekholler #book #indie #mastodon #bookstodon #booksky #rural #ruralnoir #grittyNovels #gritlit #novels #novel #author #authors #reading #readingCommunity #fediverse #thriller #crimeFiction #mastodon #sophiajanehayden #writersCoffeeClub #writer #mysteryNovel #mystery -
GOOSE CREEK HOLLER is featured in the Book Funnel promotion, NOBODY IS INNOCENT. Nothing could be truer in my Appalachian thriller, where even the good guys have to bend the rules and the law to survive. Check out all the other great titles in the promo and then CLICK ON GOOSE CREEK HOLLER to learn more! https://books.bookfunnel.com/nobody-is-innocent/ym4sbqxlru
#books #selfPromo #indieAuthor #indieAuthors #innocent #goosecreekholler #book #indie #mastodon #bookstodon #booksky #rural #ruralnoir #grittyNovels #gritlit #novels #novel #author #authors #reading #readingCommunity #fediverse #thriller #crimeFiction #mastodon #sophiajanehayden #writersCoffeeClub #writer #mysteryNovel #mystery -
GOOSE CREEK HOLLER is featured in the Book Funnel promotion, NOBODY IS INNOCENT. Nothing could be truer in my Appalachian thriller, where even the good guys have to bend the rules and the law to survive. Check out all the other great titles in the promo and then CLICK ON GOOSE CREEK HOLLER to learn more! https://books.bookfunnel.com/nobody-is-innocent/ym4sbqxlru
#books #selfPromo #indieAuthor #indieAuthors #innocent #goosecreekholler #book #indie #mastodon #bookstodon #booksky #rural #ruralnoir #grittyNovels #gritlit #novels #novel #author #authors #reading #readingCommunity #fediverse #thriller #crimeFiction #mastodon #sophiajanehayden #writersCoffeeClub #writer #mysteryNovel #mystery -
GOOSE CREEK HOLLER is featured in the Book Funnel promotion, NOBODY IS INNOCENT. Nothing could be truer in my Appalachian thriller, where even the good guys have to bend the rules and the law to survive. Check out all the other great titles in the promo and then CLICK ON GOOSE CREEK HOLLER to learn more! https://books.bookfunnel.com/nobody-is-innocent/ym4sbqxlru
#books #selfPromo #indieAuthor #indieAuthors #innocent #goosecreekholler #book #indie #mastodon #bookstodon #booksky #rural #ruralnoir #grittyNovels #gritlit #novels #novel #author #authors #reading #readingCommunity #fediverse #thriller #crimeFiction #mastodon #sophiajanehayden #writersCoffeeClub #writer #mysteryNovel #mystery -
kathy acker: get rid of meaning
https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
American author Kathy Acker was one of the most influential writers of the 20th century. Working through an experimental and avant-garde tradition, she wrote numerous novels, essays, poems, and novellas from the early 1970s to the late 1990s. As a postmodernist, plagiarist, and post-punk feminist, she continues to inspire generations of writers, philosophers, and artists. The book GET RID OF MEANING, edited by Anja Casser and Matias Viegener, is the first comprehensive publication on Acker’s work from an artistic and literary perspective. It includes previously unpublished material from Acker’s personal archive and other collections. The publication is the compilation of a multipart research project including an exhibition and a symposium at Badischer Kunstverein in Karlsruhe.https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
#AnjaCasser #BadischerKunstverein #essays #experimentalWriting #feminism #feminist #KathyAcker #MatiasViegener #novels #plagiarist #poems #postPunk #postmodernist -
kathy acker: get rid of meaning
https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
American author Kathy Acker was one of the most influential writers of the 20th century. Working through an experimental and avant-garde tradition, she wrote numerous novels, essays, poems, and novellas from the early 1970s to the late 1990s. As a postmodernist, plagiarist, and post-punk feminist, she continues to inspire generations of writers, philosophers, and artists. The book GET RID OF MEANING, edited by Anja Casser and Matias Viegener, is the first comprehensive publication on Acker’s work from an artistic and literary perspective. It includes previously unpublished material from Acker’s personal archive and other collections. The publication is the compilation of a multipart research project including an exhibition and a symposium at Badischer Kunstverein in Karlsruhe.https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
#AnjaCasser #BadischerKunstverein #essays #experimentalWriting #feminism #feminist #KathyAcker #MatiasViegener #novels #plagiarist #poems #postPunk #postmodernist -
kathy acker: get rid of meaning
https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
American author Kathy Acker was one of the most influential writers of the 20th century. Working through an experimental and avant-garde tradition, she wrote numerous novels, essays, poems, and novellas from the early 1970s to the late 1990s. As a postmodernist, plagiarist, and post-punk feminist, she continues to inspire generations of writers, philosophers, and artists. The book GET RID OF MEANING, edited by Anja Casser and Matias Viegener, is the first comprehensive publication on Acker’s work from an artistic and literary perspective. It includes previously unpublished material from Acker’s personal archive and other collections. The publication is the compilation of a multipart research project including an exhibition and a symposium at Badischer Kunstverein in Karlsruhe.https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
#AnjaCasser #BadischerKunstverein #essays #experimentalWriting #feminism #feminist #KathyAcker #MatiasViegener #novels #plagiarist #poems #postPunk #postmodernist -
kathy acker: get rid of meaning
https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
American author Kathy Acker was one of the most influential writers of the 20th century. Working through an experimental and avant-garde tradition, she wrote numerous novels, essays, poems, and novellas from the early 1970s to the late 1990s. As a postmodernist, plagiarist, and post-punk feminist, she continues to inspire generations of writers, philosophers, and artists. The book GET RID OF MEANING, edited by Anja Casser and Matias Viegener, is the first comprehensive publication on Acker’s work from an artistic and literary perspective. It includes previously unpublished material from Acker’s personal archive and other collections. The publication is the compilation of a multipart research project including an exhibition and a symposium at Badischer Kunstverein in Karlsruhe.https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
#AnjaCasser #BadischerKunstverein #essays #experimentalWriting #feminism #feminist #KathyAcker #MatiasViegener #novels #plagiarist #poems #postPunk #postmodernist -
kathy acker: get rid of meaning
https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
American author Kathy Acker was one of the most influential writers of the 20th century. Working through an experimental and avant-garde tradition, she wrote numerous novels, essays, poems, and novellas from the early 1970s to the late 1990s. As a postmodernist, plagiarist, and post-punk feminist, she continues to inspire generations of writers, philosophers, and artists. The book GET RID OF MEANING, edited by Anja Casser and Matias Viegener, is the first comprehensive publication on Acker’s work from an artistic and literary perspective. It includes previously unpublished material from Acker’s personal archive and other collections. The publication is the compilation of a multipart research project including an exhibition and a symposium at Badischer Kunstverein in Karlsruhe.https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/koenigbooks/kathy-acker-get-rid-of-meaning/
#AnjaCasser #BadischerKunstverein #essays #experimentalWriting #feminism #feminist #KathyAcker #MatiasViegener #novels #plagiarist #poems #postPunk #postmodernist -
I sold a book today!
Thank you to the person who ordered my book from Amazon.
#booksky #books #KU #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
I sold a book today!
Thank you to the person who ordered my book from Amazon.
#booksky #books #KU #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
I sold a book today!
Thank you to the person who ordered my book from Amazon.
#booksky #books #KU #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
I sold a book today!
Thank you to the person who ordered my book from Amazon.
#booksky #books #KU #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
In a land where ancient gods have fallen silent and kingdoms crumble beneath the weight of betrayal, war, and dark sorcery, destinies are forged in blood and fire.
The Shattered Kingdoms a.co/d/07eYQjuj
#booksky #books #thriller #suspense #novels #mythological #fiction #fantasy #crime #sifi #indie
The Shattered Kingdoms -
In a land where ancient gods have fallen silent and kingdoms crumble beneath the weight of betrayal, war, and dark sorcery, destinies are forged in blood and fire.
The Shattered Kingdoms a.co/d/07eYQjuj
#booksky #books #thriller #suspense #novels #mythological #fiction #fantasy #crime #sifi #indie
The Shattered Kingdoms -
In a land where ancient gods have fallen silent and kingdoms crumble beneath the weight of betrayal, war, and dark sorcery, destinies are forged in blood and fire.
The Shattered Kingdoms a.co/d/07eYQjuj
#booksky #books #thriller #suspense #novels #mythological #fiction #fantasy #crime #sifi #indie
The Shattered Kingdoms -
The Strange Power of the Dance-Floor Novel
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The Strange Power of the Dance-Floor Novel
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The Strange Power of the Dance-Floor Novel
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The Strange Power of the Dance-Floor Novel
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The Strange Power of the Dance-Floor Novel