Reader’s Edyn

I always felt like I could do something more than just read. Finally, I have found both a creative outlet and a chance to do something meaningful with my reading. This blog was created in appreciation of and tribute to all of the authors who have brought me joy through their books. These reviews are my way of giving back to authors and providing recognition for the hard work that each one completes every day!

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Cover Reveal: The Bailey Spade Series by Dima Zales


**The Bailey Spade Series by Dima Zales**

Good Morning, Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! Today I have yet another new-to-me author to share with you all, He’s here to reveal the cover of his upcoming series, BAILEY SPADE. So without further delay, please help me welcome to the blog, Dima Zale.



Dima Zales is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of science fiction and fantasy. Prior to becoming a writer, he worked in the software development industry in New York as both a programmer and an executive. From high-frequency trading software for big banks to mobile apps for popular magazines, Dima has done it all. In 2013, he left the software industry in order to concentrate on his writing career and moved to Palm Coast, Florida, where he currently resides.

Dima holds a Master's degree in Computer Science from NYU and a dual undergraduate degree in Computer Science / Psychology from Brooklyn College. He also has a number of hobbies and interests, the most unusual of which might be professional-level mentalism. He simulates mind reading on stage and close-up, and has done shows for corporations, wealthy individuals, and friends.

He is also into healthy eating and fitness, so he should live long enough to finish all the book projects he starts. In fact, he very much hopes to catch the technological advancements that might let him live forever (biologically or otherwise). Aside from that, he also enjoys learning about current and future technologies that might enhance our lives, including artificial intelligence, biofeedback, brain-to-computer interfaces, and brain-enhancing implants.

In addition to writing The Sorcery Code series and Mind Dimensions series, Dima has collaborated on a number of romance novels with his wife, Anna Zaires. The Krinar Chronicles, an erotic science fiction series, is an international bestseller and has been recognized by the likes of Marie Claire and Woman's Day. If you like erotic romance with a unique plot, please feel free to check it out, especially since the first book in the series (Close Liaisons) is available for free everywhere.

Anna Zaires is the love of his life and a huge inspiration in every aspect of his writing. She definitely adds her magic touch to anything Dima creates, and the books would not be the same without her. Dima's fans are strongly encouraged to learn more about Anna and her work at

 To find out more about Mr. Zales, please visit:


Release Date: TBA 2021

Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy


Book 1: Dream Walker (1/26/2021)

Think your dreams are private? Think again.

As a dreamwalker, I can ease your nightmares, inspire creation, or steal memories, all for the small price of a buttload of cash. I need the money to save my mom’s life, and the clock is ticking.

Then a gorgeous illusionist comes into the picture—though those mouthwatering looks may just be his powers in action. He sends me on a job with a major paycheck, but the pucking vampires show up and ruin everything.

As usual, they suck.

Now I’m knee-deep in a murder case where the victims and the perps could all kill me with a snap of their fingers. Throw in a creepy castle, a stinky moat, and a legendary monster, and we’ve got ourselves a party. Especially when the bodies begin to pile up.

My name is Bailey Spade, and if I don’t solve this case, I’m dead.

Book 2: Dream Hunter (2/9/2021)

What was missing from my life? A crazy cult that worships the ancient god of nightmares, that’s what.

When I break my most sacred vow and invade my mom’s dreams, things get complicated, fast. With Valerian’s help, I’m on a quest to boost my powers and learn to forgive myself—all while saving my home world from complete annihilation at the hands of deranged cultists.

In other words, a regular Wednesday.

Book 3: Dream Chaser (2/23/2021)

The god of nightmares is real? How fun.

A mystery dreamwalker is trying to turn me homicidally insane? Business as usual.

But when a legendary seer gets involved, we end up on a world populated by necromancers. Oops. I’ll have to put on my big dreamwalker panties and learn to forgive Valerian’s betrayal before we’re all killed by Icelus… or zombies… or a deadly virus.

Book 4: Dream Ender (3/9/2021)

Not only is Phobetor real, he’s about to destroy life on every world with sentient beings. You could say he’s becoming a bit of a problem.

Unless I’m somehow the hero of an ancient prophecy—and let’s face it, I’m not—everyone I care about is in major trouble.

My name is Bailey Spade, and this is how my story ends.

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So what do you all think? I’d love to read your thoughts!

Thanks so much for joining us today!


Blitz: Dead To Me (Grave Talker #1) by Annie Anderson + GIVEAWAY


**Dead to Me by Annie Anderson**

Good Morning, Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! I have featured this author several times on the blog, but today we get to find out more about a brand new series. Yay! I am excited! So let’s find out more together! Please allow me to welcome back to the blog Annie Anderson and her latest release, DEAD TO ME … Plus a GIVEAWAY!



Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she'll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, an old man of a dog, and a young pup that makes life... interesting.

To find out more about Ms. Anderson please visit:




Publication date: September 29th, 2020

Series: Grave Talker #1

Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy


There are only three rules in Darby Adler’s life.

OneDon’t talk to the dead in front of the living. 
TwoStay off the Arcane Bureau of Investigation’s radar. 
ThreeDon’t forget rules one and two.

With a murderer desperate for Darby’s attention and an ABI agent in town, things are about to get mighty interesting in Haunted Peak, TN. 



My life would be a lot easier if the dead in this town would just cooperate. Maybe it was the living. They never seemed to cooperate, either.

I hefted one eyelid by sheer force of will and spied the time on my alarm clock. That alarm clock was just for show. No one—not even me—used them much anymore. Lately, it was there so I didn’t have to look at the time on my phone. Said alarm clock was blinking 12:00 at me.

The power had gone out sometime since I’d fallen into bed. Figures. It didn’t matter that I lived in a nice neighborhood. Mother Nature was a testy woman on the best of days, but in the spring in this part of the country? She was downright spiteful.

The knock—well, more like pounding—on my front door rattled through my house again, which was what had woken me up from a very deep, much-needed sleep in the first damn place. I knew that insistent cop-knock. J was pounding on my door like the badge-wielding tool he was. Granted, I, too, had a badge, but I wasn’t the jerk accosting his door at oh-butt-thirty in the morning.

Groaning, I peeled myself from my oh-so-soft mattress and stomped to my door, yanking it open before J could splinter the wood.

“What?” Yeah, it came out more like a bark, but it wasn’t even dawn, and I was in no mood.

Instead of saying anything at all, J waved a to-go cup of coffee in my face as a peace offering. I fell on the caffeine-laden cup like a junkie, sucking down the brew like my life—or more accurately, J’s life—depended on it.

Only after the cup was half-drained did I let him pass the threshold into my living room. Shuffling past me, he plopped onto my overstuffed sofa like he owned it. He didn’t, but Jeremiah Cooper, AKA, J, was my best friend—hell, my only friend—and he’d spent many a morning, evening, and afternoon on that couch.

J wasn’t the only person sitting there, but he paid exactly zero attention to the slightly see-through dead man perched right next to him, lounging on the cushions like the Queen of Sheba. J—and everyone else in my life—couldn’t see him.

No one could.

No one but me.




It was not a good feeling to have a homicide less than a block from my house. The last thing I needed in my general vicinity was more ghosts.

And only J would think we didn’t need to drive the half-mile up the steep incline. Haunted Peak was at the base of a mountain, and J and I lived in a newer development in one of the foothills. As fit as I was, I still wasn’t hiking up that hill if I didn’t have to.

“You want to be sweaty and slow, be my guest. I’m driving.”

I needed to get there before whatever idiot the FBI sent tramped all over my crime scene or scared off my source. And by source, I meant the deceased. It was always tough when they were new. Their deaths were so fresh, they were still reeling from the transition. Hell, most of them didn’t even know they were dead.

I didn’t blame them for being out of sorts. If I’d been killed in a super-weird way, I’d probably be a little messed up, too. But explaining that no one could see them but me, and they were dead? Ugh. Not my favorite way to spend a morning.

Plus, if J and I were being called in, the case was not just weird. It was weird.

Those were the only cases we got nowadays. Add in Hildy’s description of being carved up and well… I already knew I was about to have a rough one.

Climbing into my Jeep, I waited the three-point-five seconds for J to get his ass in gear before cranking the engine. He slid into the seat beside me just as I threw it in reverse, barely managing to close his door before I peeled out of the driveway. The trip took less than a minute, but that was still far too long for me. Had J told me there was a Fed on my scene before I wasted time getting dressed, we’d have been there already—bad breath, pajamas, and all.

“What do you know? What am I walking into?”

J ran a hand down his face as he let loose the mother of all sighs. “It’s bad, D. It makes those fake Satanists we busted last year look like fluffy bunnies and rainbows.”

Those “Satanists” we’d busted last October weren’t Satanists at all. They were a bunch of fledgling witches with an ax to grind against their coven leader. I’d seen many a witch and warlock in my day that weren’t even the least bit homicidal. Those chicks were straight-up lethal and aching to get into the dark stuff. It’d taken a boatload of legwork, a promise to the new coven leader that I wouldn’t be dragging the whole coven into it, and a binding spell the size of Texas to get those girls cornered.

Not that J knew that.

He’d lost his mind when he’d learned my secret. I couldn’t blow up his narrow world view any more than I already had. What was I gonna say? I know you don’t like to think about the ghosts that are crawling all over the planet, but you might want to start worrying about the shit that’s actually alive. AKA, the shit that can kill you.

Yeah, I didn’t see that going too well. It would make his fool brain explode, and then I’d be out a best friend.



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Blitz: Snowball's Christmas by Kristen McKanagh + GIVEAWAY


**Snowball’s Christmas by Kristen McKanagh**

Good Morning, Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! We have another new-to-me author and book! Well, she’s new writing under this pen name. Others of you as well as myself might be more familiar with Ms. McKanagh writing as Abigail Owen. Knowing firsthand how much I have enjoyed her work as Ms. Owen, I am definitely looking forward to finding out more about this new persona. Yay! Please allow me to feature on the blog Kristen McKanagh and her latest release, SNOWBALL’S CHRISTMAS … Plus, a GIVEAWAY!



Sweet contemporary and Amish romance author Kristen McKanagh grew up consuming books and exploring the world through her writing. She attempted to find a practical career by earning a degree in English Rhetoric (Technical Writing) and an MBA. However, she swiftly discovered that writing without imagination is not nearly as fun as writing with it. Kristen also writes award-winning steamy contemporary romance as Kadie Scott, and award-winning paranormal and YA fantasy romance as Abigail Owen. No matter the genre, she loves to write happily-ever-afters that shine with home, heart, and humor. Kristen currently resides in Austin, Texas, with her own swoon-worthy hero husband and their two children, who are growing up way too fast.

To find out more about Ms. McKanagh, please visit:






Publication date: September 29th, 2020

Publisher: Kensington

Genres:  Adult, Contemporary, Romance


The Purrfect holiday awaits…

Snowball–an aptly named bundle of feline fluff–is thankful to be spending her first Christmas in the comfort of Weber Haus, the Victorian B&B run by Miss Tilly. Emily Diemer, who cooks for the guests, dotes on Snowball, but she’s not thrilled about another new arrival at the B&B: Miss Tilly’s nephew, Lukas. Which is odd, because Snowball’s animal instincts tell her that Lukas and Emily should definitely be friends.

Everything Emily needs is in this quaint community–including, she hopes, the chance to open her own bakery one day. She doesn’t think much of Lukas for leaving his aging aunt to struggle while he jets around the world taking photographs. But now that he’s here, helping to spruce up the property and getting mixed up in Snowball’s antics, she begins to soften a little. Until she learns what he has planned…

Lukas is going to sell Weber Haus so that Miss Tilly can retire. But Snowball is certain that this B&B, and these people, are supposed to be her forever home. Somehow she has to get these stubborn humans to see things through the wisdom of a cat’s eye and a kitten’s loyal, loving heart…


At her car, her good mood took a back seat to frustration. The fob on her key chain was dying, which meant it didn’t always let her in right away. After four or five clicks, she finally gave a grr of annoyance and opened the door with the key.


No mistaking the deep voice of the man from the parking lot. No way could he be talking to her, though, so she went to get in.


He is talking to me.

Surprise tinged with more delight than she’d let herself acknowledge had her pausing to look over her shoulder. “How did you know my name?” she called as he jogged down the last few steps.

He waved back up at the slope. “That man called your name earlier.”

And he’d paid attention? Wow. A blush warmed the skin of her cheeks, making the sting of the cold air against her bite more. “Listen, I’m flattered and everything, but I’m running late.”

He paused on a word, mouth open, then his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “I’m not asking you out.”

Oh. Disappointment dropped over her like snow falling off branches on her head. Kerfloop. Followed swiftly by embarrassment. The heat crept back up her cheeks, but for a much less fun reason. “Okay . . . What can I help you with?”

“Actually, I’m here to help you.”

Help her? With what? She raised her eyebrows in question.

“I believe you’ve picked up a small passenger in your purse.”

“My—” Realization rushed in with all the subtlety of a blizzard, and she closed her eyes in resigned horror. “There’s a kitten in my purse. Isn’t there?”

She opened her eyes in time to catch the full impact of her stranger’s full-bodied laugh, his eyes alight with humor. “Does this happen to you often?” he asked.

“Only since this one arrived on our doorstep.” More gently than she’d been handling it until now, she swung her purse around and opened it wide. Sure enough, two blue eyes stared back at her with all the innocence of angels.

“Snowball. You’ve got to stop this,” she admonished as she lifted the small kitten out. Cuddling the ball of fluff against her chest, she lifted her gaze to her helpful stranger. Right in time to see him with a camera up to his eye. A soft click sounded as he snapped a picture.

“Uh— No, thanks.” She lifted a hand to block any more.

“I’m only getting the cat in the shot. I promise.”

Zero for two. First, he wasn’t chasing her down because he was interested, and now he only wanted pictures of the cat. My ego is going to need some chocolate therapy if this keeps up.



I pause in my purring to peer closer at Emily’s face. I know something is wrong because she’s squeezing me tighter. A little too tight.

I give a mewl of protest, and she blinks, her frown morphing to vague confusion as she glances down at me. Emily blinks again, then loosens her grip.

Did she forget she was holding me?

That’s strange. I look over to see what she was frowning at. Only it’s not a what. It’s a who.

That man from the place with all the white stuff and the kids laughing loudly. The one who found me in her purse. I cock my head, studying him. Why is Emily mad at him? Other than ratting me out—such an appropriate phrase I learned recently—he seems like a nice person.

The man reaches out and runs a gentle hand over my fur. I snuggle into his touch and start my motor back up. You can tell a lot from how a person pets. I like him already.

About then, Miss Tilly bustles into the room. “Excellent. You’ve met,” she says.

“Not formally,” the man says. I like his voice, too. There’s kindness and something comforting in the deep tones. I’d like to snuggle under his chin and take a nap.

“Oh,” Miss Tilly says in that floaty way she has sometimes. “Emily, I’d like you to meet my nephew, Lukas.” Tilly is glowing with pride.

I tip my head and stare at the man. This is the Lukas person she’s been talking about?

“Lukas,” Tilly continues. “This is Emily Diemer. Emily helps me run Weber Haus and is a fine baker.”

The Lukas man smiles. He has a nice smile, I decide. It reaches all the way to his eyes.

“A pleasure to formally meet you. Tilly’s told me a lot . . .” He trails off.

I glance up at Emily because she’s squeezing me again.

You’re Tilly’s nephew?”

Her voice does not sound very pleased. What did this guy do to her? I’m the one he outed by telling her I was in her purse.

Lukas must be thinking the same thing, because his eyebrows scrunch up all funny. “Is that a bad thing?”

Emily opens her mouth, then her gaze strays to Miss Tilly. She seems to rethink her words. “I’m sure Tilly is thrilled to have you home. She’s talked of nothing and no one else for weeks,” she says. Only her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “How long are you staying? She wasn’t sure.”

Now she sounds too sweet. Not at all Emily-like. Emily is a lovely human, always quick to pet, but she’s also straightforward. At least, that’s what Miss Tilly calls her. Sweet sounds all wrong from her mouth—like too much cream, smothering her words.

I wiggle in her grasp, and she lowers me to the floor. I have instincts for humans. Maybe if I show her Lukas is a nice one, she’ll stop acting so . . . strange. I scoot over to him and wind myself around his ankles. Lukas chuckles. A deep sound that makes me happy. I like it even better when he bends over and runs a hand over my back. I arch up into his touch.

See, Emily. He’s nice.

I glance over to make sure she’s getting the message, only Emily is watching me with her lips pushing forward, kind of pinched.

“Traitor,” she mouths at me.

A snort from Lukas tells both Emily and me that he caught that. Her cheeks go red.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get the rest of the groceries before I get started on lunch.”

Emily hurries out of the room, the screen door closing behind her with a bang that makes me jump. Lukas straightens and watches her go, the corners of his mouth lifting.

Is it just me? Or is there something going on between these two? Like a low hum in the air. Two humans I like should like each other, I decide. Maybe they need a little help to figure it out.


The sight that greeted his curious gaze upped the kitchen a few more notches in his estimation.

Christmas music piped softly from a cell phone on the counter, an oldie, painting images of cold winter nights and cozy fires . . . and family.

He ignored the familiar, old pinch in the region of his heart that seemed to get worse this time of year and focused on the woman humming to herself.

Emily stood at the large butcher-block table in the center of the room. She had her back to him, but her long dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was unmistakable. Not to mention those legs. Encased in jeans and topped with a formfitting, pale blue sweater, the woman was a knockout in that freckled, sweet, girl-next-door way that managed to hit the right chord with him.

Except she didn’t like him. At all. For a reason he had yet to unearth.


He’d forgotten the darn cat, who now sat at his feet.

“Morning, Snowball—” Emily turned with a smile on her lips that froze the second she spotted him.

Jack Frost had nothing on Emily Diemer for chill factor.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Granted, she attempted to rearrange her features to a more neutral expression, but the pinching around her lips didn’t ease any.

Amusement and the strangest urge to win her over had Lukas affecting his most charming smile. “Good morning, Emily.”

She lifted her eyebrows, visibly unmoved. “Not for any decent person,” she commented wryly with a pointed glance at the microwave clock. “I came down to bake and get ready for the day. Plus, Christmas Eve isn’t that far off, and we’re hosting a large group, which takes early preparation. I’m freezing a few things ahead of time. What about you?”

Lukas didn’t want to explain that Snowball had woken him up and insisted he come down here. He’d sound crazy. “This is my house.”

The second the words left his lips he wanted to snatch them back out of the air. Definitely not the right way to go.

Emily turned her back on him, returning to the dough she was kneading, but not before he caught her scowl. “Technically, it’s Miss Tilly’s house. You moved away years ago,” she pointed out.

She mumbled something else that sounded a bit like “And haven’t bothered to come back all that often.”

Was that what she was holding against him? Because he would’ve sworn she’d been interested in the parking lot when they first met. But the second she walked in the door and figured out who he was, she’d been frostier than the North Pole. Might as well get it out in the open. “I get the impression you don’t like me much.”

She paused, hands sunk deep into the dough. “I don’t know you.”

Right. An evasive answer if he’d ever heard one. “After you flirted in the nicest way at the sledding hill—”

She jerked her head up. “That was not flirting.”

“That’s too bad,” he murmured, earning a scowl before she went back to her dough. “But then you found out my name, and, poof, no more flirting.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” she grumbled.

He hid a smile and crossed his arms. “But you don’t like me.”

Emily blew out a frustrated breath.




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