⭐PUYB Virtual Book Club⭐

PUYB Author Talks: ⭐A Bookish Conversation with 'The Siren of Paris' David LeRoy⭐ #interview

David LeRoy is an author and avid explorer of the intersection of philosophy, psychology, and art. His debut novel, The Siren of Paris, is a poignant work that emerged from personal family research he undertook in 2010 to locate missing persons of WWII.

LeRoy’s fluency in French and two-year sojourn in France afforded him unique insights into the French culture he deftly weaves into his literary work. With a Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy and Religion, an MBA from California State University Sacramento, and an MSc. Applied Data Science from Paris, France, LeRoy is a polymath with diverse interests and an insatiable curiosity for knowledge.

He currently resides in California, where he continues to write and pursue his creative passions.

Connect with him on social media at:

╰┈➤ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thesirenofparis

╰┈➤ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/14760740-the-siren-of-paris?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=v6UbhLIMmb&rank=1

Can you tell us a little about yourself? Are you a full time author?

Today, I am just an average Middle Age American Male. I once worked in Telecommunications in various management roles. My formal education is in Philosophy and Religion from a small private Christian college named Point Loma Nazarene College. I also hold an MBA from California State University of Sacramento and a MSc. in Data Analytics from France. My interest in writing stories came later in my life. Instead of a degree program, I attended workshops to advance my story crafting abilities. I adore the study of depth psychology of Carl Jung.

Can you tell us about The Siren of Paris?

The story follows a soul’s transition after death and the war is treated as a life review. This point of view makes the story unique and adds the magical realism elements to the plot. Most of the World War Two Genre is a hero’s journey and treats the war as a testing ground where heroes are made against the evil Germans. Romanticized stories have dominated the fiction of the war in the past twenty years. The Siren of Paris is a story of betrayal within a world of utter moral chaos. This is the second edition, with small minor edits to scenes to sharpen the moralistic tone. The question which the work addresses is the following: Can a soul find rest after such a war?

Can you tell us a little about the characters?

Marc Tolbert is the lead protagonist. He was born at the end of World War One. His family was wealthy and he chooses to study in Europe after a nasty break from a girlfriend in 1938. He is common as there were 1000’s of Americans traveling back and forth between Europe at the outbreak of the war. Once the war began, most found themselves trapped by the circumstances with many never surviving. The characters of the Siren are historical people, some famous at the time, operating within the normal context of the war. This also includes all the animals which appear in the story, most of all the white Angora rabbit on the RMS Lancastria.

Where is this book set and why did you choose that location?

I was involved in missing person’s research of the war for my family. Most of the facts of the war presented in The Siren of Paris I had no idea of when I started my search. Our stories of the war are mythic and often focused upon military campaigns. The facts that I undiscovered when searching revealed a war that was a moral apocalypse of unimaginable scale. As an example, as before the fall of Paris, the city was inundated by fleeing refugees of Belgium and Netherlands. This included live stock in the form of sheep, cows, pigs and goats. Paris was bombed with leaflets promising to close all banks sending the public into a panic. Everyone became a target including a traveling circus on the road leaving Paris.

How can people benefit from reading The Siren of Paris?

There are several benefits to reading The Siren of Paris. First, it is the only novel that I am aware of that treats certain acts of the war, such as the sinking of RMS Lancastria realistically. Romanticized stories of the war are entertaining however are not accurate representations of the true chaos, moral failures of people, and events of the war. The story appears to have a healing effect of closure for those with family members who have experienced tragedies.

Is The Siren of Paris your only book?

Today it is the only work in public, but I am currently in editing phase of a second novel title The Flower of Chamula. The new story addresses the topic of generational trauma, war, and massacres of the innocents. It is set during the Mexican uprising of the Zapatista during the 1990s.

Thank you so much for this interview, David. What’s next for you?

I have started research into a new historical horror fiction work of the 1970’s. A few of the books that provide the research materials are rare and several hundred dollars. The zeitgeist of the period is one of political and social uncertainty. The protagonist is a young FBI officer who finds himself among a group of Western Ranchers seeking to protect their cattle at night from a terrifying force. The accounts are fascinating as well as government documentation. Every cow multination was given full autopsy. Everyone wants to know, but also has a direct interest in covering up the truth.

Inside the Book

Journey through the dark, violent, and haunting landscape of World War II in Paris and beyond – Take on a harrowing tour through the depths of human depravity, exploring themes of love, loss, guilt, and redemption in this gripping historical tale.

Marc Tolbert, a young French-born man from a prominent American family, takes off to Paris for a fresh start after a breakup in 1939. Pursuing his dreams of attending a prestigious Parisian art school, he soon makes friends with some of history’s most notable figures, including Sylvia Beach and William Bullitt. Falling in love with an art model from one of his classes, he is blinded to the escalating violence around them as the war inches closer to the City of Lights.

What started as an adventure quickly becomes a nightmare as the war worsens, and Marc is faced with choices that will change his life forever.

When he finally faces the reality that he must leave Paris, fate deals him a cruel hand. Surviving the sinking of the RMS Lancastria, Marc is haunted by the deaths of his friends and the regret of not leaving sooner.

Returning to Paris, Marc is drawn into the resistance movement, risking everything to help those trapped behind enemy lines. But after being betrayed, he is captured and sent away to face the horrors of war and the guilt of his past mistakes.

The Siren of Paris is a powerful and emotional story that will keep you on the edge of your seat. With its compelling plot-driven narrative, vivid scenes, and intense action, this novel will transport you to the heart of war-torn Paris and leave you contemplating the weight of human choices and their impact on others. Whether you’re a fan of historical fiction, war stories, or symbolic themes, this novel will captivate and intrigue you from start to finish.

The Siren of Paris is available at Amazon.

*****

╰┈➤Book Details

Genre: Historical Fiction
Sub-genre: Magical Realism
Language:English
Pages: 352
Paperback ISBN: 978-0983966715

╰┈➤Here’s What Readers Have To Say!

“The soul of this book is found in LeRoy’s analysis of human nature through the main character. There really is nothing like a life-or-death situation that can split human nature so cleanly and show us what being human really means. The author shows us how a person can be completely changed from this experience, how in a few short years, in a few short moments, or even in a split second, everything can become drastically different. This book is suited for those with a love for history and those with a love for fiction alike. This novel brought tears to my eyes and left me with a more enlightened heart, so it is with absolute pleasure that I say The Siren of Paris is highly recommended.” – Boyu Huang, Allbooks Review Int.

“I’ve just finished reading Siren of Paris by David LeRoy and it’s a story that will stay with me for a while. It has a complex, well developed plotline and presents the story in a tantalising way. I’ve read quite a few books set during the Second World War… this one especially gripped me.” – Dianne Ascroft Ascroft

⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Your Ghost: A Memoir of Love, Loss and the Echoes That Remain by Marie McGaha #Memoir

Your Ghost is an honest look at grief through the eyes of a woman loved deeply, lost suddenly, and is learning to live with the echo of loss left behind...

Your Ghost: A Memoir of Love, Loss and the Echoes That Remain is a searing, faith-anchored memoir of love, loss, and the long road back to oneself. When Marie’s husband dies without warning, her world fractures in an instant, leaving her to navigate the brutal, unfiltered landscape of grief. In the quiet of an empty house and the chaos of a shattered heart, she wrestles with God, memory, and the haunting presence of the man she can no longer touch but cannot let go.

Told with unflinching honesty and spiritual depth, Your Ghost traces the intimate, day-by-day unraveling and rebuilding of a woman who refuses to let tragedy define the rest of her life. As she confronts guilt, loneliness, anger, and the strange moments when his nearness feels almost tangible, Marie discovers that grief is not a straight line but a sacred, winding path. What emerges is a story not only of devastation, but of resilience—a testament to enduring love, stubborn hope, and the quiet miracles that carry us forward when we think we cannot take another step.

╰┈➤Book Details

Genre: Memoir
Sub-genre: Survival Biographies
Language:English
Pages: 105
Hardcover: 979-8252998060

Your Ghost is available at Amazon.

╰┈➤Here’s What Readers Have To Say!

“You will feel every emotion, especially the pain, of losing your soulmate unexpectedly as you read this deeply spiritual journey of recovery. This kind of loss is painful, emotionally draining and physically crippling. Through every stage of grief, Ms. McGaha helps us understand how we can begin to breathe again and move forward. I cried, I felt her pain and rejoiced as the agony slowly began to leave. The best book I've ever read about grief and recovery. A must read for anyone experiencing the loss of a loved one. Also, it's proof God is still beside us at our lowest point… (this is) a woman trying to hang onto life. A life that crashed and burned unexpectedly… very inspiring.” - Vicki L.

"A beautifully written, heart-wrenching examination of deep-held grief, Marie McGaha pulls the reader in with her dynamic and impactful imagery, compelling us to understand her tragedy—the caregiving and ultimate loss of the one love of her life, her husband, Nathan. The thoughts, the analysis, and the unfolding of this unwanted, unasked-for journey from a woman familiar with grief are, at times, more than one can bear. Yet the sheer poetry, interwoven with the Word of God, brings us fully into the author’s world with brilliance. Her deeply personal exploration of grief—from exhaustion, to numbness, to heightened awareness—is extraordinary, leaving the reader with a greater understanding of our own journeys through death and loss. This is a journey that, once entered, will not easily be forgotten—a powerful and necessary read for anyone who has known love and loss." - Linda W.

╰┈➤Read if you Love a Book That is...

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡ Tender

❤️ྀི Haunting

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡ Honest

❤️ྀི Faith-Anchored

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡ Intimate

Excerpt:

The Night My Life Ended

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints, (Psalm 116:15)

T.S. Eliot wrote, “This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but with a whimper.” Mine ended with a heart-shattering, gut-wrenching scream that came from a place so deep and primal, I wasn’t aware it was me.

Grief is not a single moment. It is a rupture, a tearing open of the world I thought I knew. The day my husband died, the stillness of our house pressed in on me. The hospital bed in our living room, the night falling beyond the windows, the chill of November air beginning to set in.

Inside those walls, everything I knew was ending. Twenty-three years of marriage, twenty-three years of shared laughter, arguments, plans, and dreams — gone with his last breath. The future we imagined together went up in smoke, like fog on a misty morning when the sun comes up, but today, there would be no sunrise.

Cancer is sinister. It is a thief, stealing moments, years, and dreams. It is a murderer, taking lives with no remorse. It is sadistic, tormenting the body while mocking the soul. It is raw, stripping away dignity, leaving only pain and silence.

Cancer does not simply arrive; it invades. It creeps into the corners of a home, into the rhythm of daily life, until everything revolves around its demands. It is not just a medical condition — it is a shadow that stalks, a cruel presence that reshapes love into labor and hope into survival.

At home, I became his caregiver. Our house transformed into a place of quiet battles — pill bottles lined up on the counter, blankets folded and refolded, the rhythm of care replacing the rhythm of ordinary life.

I watched him grow weaker, his body betraying him day by day. He lost weight until his clothes hung loose, until his frame seemed too fragile for the man I had known. His voice grew softer, his steps shorter, until walking across a room was no longer possible. The walls of our home became boundaries he could not cross, and I learned that love sometimes means bearing witness to limits I cannot change.

There is cruelty in watching someone I love fade within the walls once filled with laughter. I cooked meals he could no longer eat, held cups he could no longer lift, and sat beside him when sleep became his only refuge. Love became labor, and labor became love.

And yet, even in illness, there were moments of tenderness. His hand reaching for mine, his eyes searching for reassurance, the quiet gratitude in his smile when I tucked the blanket around him. We had built a life together — birthdays, holidays, ordinary Tuesdays — and even as his body failed, the love we shared remained intact.

That night, I held him in my arms, his body nestled between my legs on the bed. I whispered to him that he was a good husband, a good father, that our marriage was the anchor of my life. I wanted my words to be the last thing he heard, my embrace the last place he rested.

It would be the last time I felt his body next to mine, the last time I felt his heart beating against me, the last time I would hear his breath, smell his scent, and hold him close.

The room was quiet except for the sound of his breathing, each inhale and exhale a fragile thread tying him to this world. I counted them, knowing one would be the last. When it came, the silence was deafening.

I felt the world split open. My scream tore through the night, raw and unrecognizable. It came from a place beyond language, beyond thought — a primal sound that announced the end of everything I knew. Twenty-three years of love collapsed into that silence, leaving me in a foreign world where nothing was familiar.

I am a Christian. I believe in God. I believe in miracles. I believe in prayer. I prayed for my husband. I requested others to pray. But God had no miracles that day.

Faith did not shield me from loss. Prayers did not stop the silence from coming. I had believed in a God who could part seas, heal the sick, raise the dead. But on that night, there was no parting, no healing, no raising.

There was only the stillness of a body that would never move again, and the echo of prayers unanswered.

Grief has forced me to wrestle with faith in ways I never imagined. I still believe, but belief now carries scars.

I believe in God, but I also know that miracles are not guaranteed.

I believe in prayer, but I also know that sometimes the answer is silence.

Grief is disorienting. Time fractures. The minutes after his death stretched into eternity, yet the house around me remained unchanged. The bed was still there, the blankets still rumpled, the November night still pressing against the windows.

But everything inside me had collapsed.

His absence was everywhere — in the empty chair at the table, in the silence where his laughter used to be, in the bed that suddenly felt too large. I found myself reaching for him in the night, only to grasp at emptiness.

The scream that escaped me that night became an echo inside me. It reverberated through the days that followed, through the funeral, through the endless paperwork and condolences.

People told me I was strong, but strength felt like a mask I wore to survive. Inside, I was broken.

The world became foreign. Simple things — grocery shopping, answering the phone, folding laundry — felt alien, stripped of meaning.

Every plan we had made together dissolved. Trips we would never take, anniversaries we would never celebrate, grandchildren he would never hold.

The future was gone, erased in an instant.

Grief is not linear. It is tidal. Some days it recedes, leaving me with quiet memories. Other days it crashes over me, pulling me under.

I have learned to breathe in the undertow, to let the waves come, because they carry him back to me in fragments — his laugh, his touch, his presence in the ordinary moments of our life together.

I have discovered that grief is not something to get over. It is something I carry. It reshaped me, redefined me.

I am a wife but no longer married.

I am a wife who is no longer a part of a couple.

I am a wife who is single.

Sleep has become nearly impossible. It is short moments of dreams where we are together, laughing, holding hands but I awaken, and he is gone. Again.

I became a version of myself that I don’t recognize. Nothing is the same, yet everything is the same. I have aged. My hair whiter, my eyes duller, my smile less bright, my laughter comes less often.

I am a version of myself that is learning to live without my heart. I am learning to embrace grief as a part of who I am rather than an enemy who stalks me.

The stages of grief laugh at me. Some days they attack all at once, trampling on me, battering me relentlessly. Other days, they leave me in peace.

It’s nearly five years later and my husband is still gone. He is dead and I am the ghost that wanders through the house.

And yet, even in grief, I remember the life we built. The way he held my hand at the movies. The way we danced in the kitchen while dinner simmered on the stove. The way he kissed me goodnight, every night, for twenty-three years.

These memories are both balm and blade — they soothe me and they cut me open.

I remember our wedding day, the nervous laughter, the vows spoken with trembling voices, the joy of promising forever. I remember the births of our grandchildren, the way he cried when he first held them, the way he whispered their names like prayers.

I remember vacations where we got lost on back roads and laughed until our stomachs hurt. I remember quiet mornings with coffee, the news-paper spread across the table, his hand reaching for mine without thinking.

These memories are the architecture of my grief. They remind me of what was, and of what will never be again. They are proof that love existed, that it thrived, that it shaped me into who I am.

Eliot wrote of the world ending with a whisper. Mine ended with a scream. But grief has taught me that endings are not silent, nor are they final. They reverberate, echoing through the lives of those left behind.

My scream was not just the sound of loss — it was the sound of love refusing to be silenced. And though my husband is gone, that love remains — fierce, enduring, and unbroken.

The world may be foreign now, the future erased, but the love we shared is indelible. It is the sunrise that will never come yet still glows inside me.

– Excerpted from Your Ghost: A Memoir of Love, Loss and the Echoes That Remain by Marie McGaha, Dancing with Bear Publishing, 2026. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Marie McGaha is an award-winning writer whose work includes clean historical romances, Christian devotionals, and heartfelt children’s books. A storyteller at her core, she weaves faith, resilience, and gentle humor through every page she writes.

She makes her home in southeast Oklahoma, in the foothills of the Ouachita Mountains, where life is anything but quiet. Her days are shared with four spoiled dogs, a crippled rooster with more attitude than feathers, a noisy guinea who believes it runs the place, a couple of flighty hens, and a watchful roo who keeps an eye on everything that moves. This lively little farm—equal parts sanctuary and circus—provides endless inspiration, companionship, and the kind of grounding only God’s creation can offer.

Whether she’s crafting a tender love story, guiding readers through Scripture, or bringing the Bible to life for children through animal characters, Marie writes with a voice shaped by faith, loss, healing, and the stubborn hope that refuses to let go. Her work reflects the heart of a woman who has walked through fire and come out carrying stories worth telling.

You can also join her for daily devotionals on YouTube at @HeReignsChurch, where she shares encouragement, Scripture, and the steady reminder that hope is still alive. You can contact her by email: church.hereigns@gmail.com.

Marie’s latest book is Your Ghost: A Memoir of Love, Loss and the Echoes That Remain.

Visit her blog at authormariemcgaha.blogspot.com.

Connect with her on social media at:

╰┈➤ Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorMarieMcGaha

╰┈➤ LinkedIn: Linkedin.com/in/mariemcgaha

⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐A Change in Plans by Mike Martin #Mystery

Food, family, friends and a few dead bodies…

RCMP officer Winston Windflower’s rare afternoon off gets interrupted when a hit and run turns into murder and he must pull together a team of Mounties from Newfoundland to resolve the crime. Following the money and fentanyl— and bodies—Windflower and his team join forces with police officers in southern Ontario to take down an international drug-smuggling ring.

Windflower must face personal doubts and fears when fellow Mountie Fil Romano is kidnapped. While the higher-ups at HQ make plans to give safe passage to the drug lords in return for Romano’s life, Windflower worries Romano will get caught in the crossfire. Windflower again looks to his friends and allies for help in the difficult hours and days ahead.

╰┈➤Book Details

Genre: Mystery
Sub-genre: Cozy Mystery/Police Procedural
Language: English
Pages: 278
Paperback ISBN: TBA

A Change in Plans is available at Amazon.

╰┈➤Here’s What Readers Have To Say!

“

╰┈➤Read if you love…

Mystery

̷̊̊̊̊̊ International Drug-Smuggling Ring

Kidnapping

Dead Bodies

Canadian Mounties to the Rescue

Edge of Your Seat Excitement

Excerpt:

Summer was nearing its end in the small town of Grand Bank on the eastern shore of Canada. Winston Windflower, husband, father and RCMP officer, was enjoying some quiet time while his wife, Sheila Hillier, and their two girls, Amelia Louise and Stella, were in St. John’s for their annual back-to-school shopping spree. He was alone except for his four-legged friends. Lady, an eight-year-old collie, was still frisky and ready to go for a walk as always. Molly, the cat, was ageless and just about lifeless as she sat in her bed waiting for the next treat to fall in front of her.

It was a fine, sunny day as Windflower looked out of their home onto the Atlantic Ocean. Because it was so nice, he had taken the afternoon off for picking berries. The summer had been unusually hot and sticky, and that meant the berries were out a little earlier than usual. His fervent hope was that his special picking spot had not been disturbed by early pickers trampling down bushes and limiting the harvest.

If things went well, he could pick a gallon of berries in a couple of hours, and if he was super lucky, Sheila would make something fabulous with the blueberries when she got back. Maybe a pie or even one of her blueberry specialties. Windflower salivated when he imagined all of that deliciousness. He grabbed a couple of Tupperware containers and a bottle of water and then headed for his favourite spot.

There was a congregation of berry pickers at the closest picking location, just past the clinic. Bent over, they paid him little attention. He didn’t mind being ignored. The area was too busy and crowded for him. He took the trail down by the brook and then up the hill to the lookout. He paused for a moment to take in the majestic view of Grand Bank. Windflower glanced over the brook to the town and the wharf, all the way to the craggy outcrop that the locals called the Cape. Then he continued on up over the hill and towards the other side.

He veered off the path about halfway down and was very pleased to find his desired location calm and untouched. He said a silent prayer of thanks to Creator and began his task. Some people would have thought of this as work, but Windflower found berry picking both meditative and spiritual. It reconnected him to the land and made him think of his early days growing up on the reserve in Pink Lake, Alberta. His Cree family would all go berry picking for the day, bringing a lunch and a kettle to make tea.

He soon had one container filled and was working on the second when his pocket buzzed. He checked the number on his phone. It was Corporal Samira Gupta, his right-hand assistant, calling from the bigger community of Marystown. He had made arrangements with his boss, Superintendent Ron Quigley, that he would take the job as acting inspector for the region as long as he could stay in Grand Bank and have an assistant in Marystown. Gupta filled her role perfectly.

“What’s up, Corporal?” asked Windflower.

“Sorry to bother you,” said Gupta. “Betsy said you were off. But I thought you should know. We had a hit and run in Marystown. Over near Walmart. A woman in her forties is in hospital. Sergeant Tizzard is on the scene.” Eddie Tizzard was one of Windflower’s long-time friends and co-workers. They’d been working together for the last 10 years in one way or another.

“That’s a dangerous area,” said Windflower. “How is the woman?”

“She was unconscious when they brought her to the hospital in Burin,” said Gupta. “But no other information so far.”

“And the driver?”

“We’re working on it. Tizzard has a team doing interviews from the scene.”

“It’s busy around there. Somebody would have seen something.”

“That was our thinking, too,” Gupta agreed. “If we don’t get anything back soon from the canvass, we’ll do a media hit.”

“Perfect. Keep me posted.”

Now that his reverie had been disrupted, Windflower packed up his stuff and headed back down to his car. He was driving towards home when he noticed the driver of a passing car flashing their headlights at him. He slowed down and pulled over and then went to see if they were okay. As he got closer, he squinted to see Moira Stoodley, co-owner of the Mug-Up Café, the best and only diner in Grand Bank, in the driver’s seat. She was also the wife of his best friend, Herb Stoodley, who was tutoring him in two very diverse subjects—classical music, about which Windflower knew next to nothing before he met Herb, and trout and salmon fishing, which he thought he had mastered but now realized he was only a beginner.

He assumed Moira had stopped him to say hello or to pass along a message from her husband. But it was much more serious.

“I saw Mike Winger, that crazy-looking guy, back on the road,” said Moira. “It looked like his wheelchair had tipped over. A few young fellers were helping him get back up. But he looked in bad shape. Had a cut over his forehead. I asked him if he was okay. He told me to mind my business and went on home. You might want to check in on him.”

It wasn’t exactly his job to look after wandering locals, but it had become expected of the lone police officer in the community. He may have the high and mighty title of acting inspector, but his day job consisted of part-time social worker, youth counsellor and senior companion when he wasn’t solving crimes or directing the limited amount of traffic that Grand Bank produced.

Helping citizens in distress certainly fell into his ‘other related duties’, and Mike Winger seemed to be in constant need of assistance of one kind or another. Mostly of his own doing.

Windflower knew a little about the man from his many interactions with him. Winger was an American and a veteran of the Gulf Wars. After he left the military, he got certified as a refrigeration mechanic and started wandering around, first in the United States and then into Canada. He ended up in the Grand Bank area working for fish plants and discovered a place where nobody really knew him but welcomed him anyway.

Mike Winger finally felt at home. He bought a house and found a girl who eventually moved in.

His life seemed perfect until… the crash that changed his life. His girlfriend was killed instantly as his car slid off the highway to avoid a moose one late spring morning. He was left with one leg paralyzed and the other badly damaged. Stuck with his feeling of loss and grief, he turned to alcohol and then drugs. Then he became mean and isolated. His scooter was his only escape, but even that turned out to be another source of problems.

Windflower had rescued him and the scooter more times than he could remember. From ditches by the side of the road. From a farmer’s field. From the pub, more than once, when he had been asked to leave, none too politely. One time from the cemetery, although Windflower wasn’t exactly sure how that happened. Mike Winger was certainly one of Windflower’s pet irritants in Grand Bank. But since neither of them were going anywhere soon, they had figured out how to survive, if not get along, together.

– Excerpted from A Change in Plans by Mike Martin, Ottawa Press and Publishing, 2026. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Mike Martin was born in St. John’s, NL on the east coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays have appeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in the United States and New Zealand.

He is the award-winning author of the best-selling Sgt. Windflower Mystery series, set in beautiful Grand Bank. There are now 17 books in this light mystery series with the publication of A Change in Plans.

A Tangled Web was shortlisted in 2017 for the best light mystery of the year, and Darkest Before the Dawn won the 2019 Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award. All That Glitters was shortlisted for the LOLA 2024 Must Read Book of the year award.

Some Sgt. Windflower Mysteries are now available as audiobooks and the latest Darkest Before the Dawn was released as an audiobook in 2024. All audiobooks are available from Audible in Canada and around the world.

Mike is Past Chair of the Board of Crime Writers of Canada, a national organization promoting Canadian crime and mystery writers and a member of the Newfoundland Writers’ Guild and Capital Crime Writers.

Visit Mike’s website at https://sgtwindflowermysteries.com.

Connect with him on social media at:

╰┈➤ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheWalkerOnTheCapeReviewsAndMore

╰┈➤ Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/mike54martin

⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐The Wars Between by Lee Mavin #YA #fantasy

A Young Adult Fantasy Novel Exploring Themes of Conflict, Propaganda and Empathy…

For centuries there had been an ongoing war between Asalandia, the proud monarchy of the east and Kastanair the progressive democracy of the west. However, the years of war would end with the most unlikely turn of events.

Outis Everrett, the disappointment of his family, a measly poet, is suddenly thrusted into an epic adventure across the sea, with the King’s blessing. His poem, the poem that somehow won the first annual Asalandian poetry competition, was meant to be taken across the seas, to the enemy island of Kastanair, there, it would be read by the President of Kastanair, the newly elected and very progressive, Penelope Chinwa and she was supposed stop the war after reading those so special words.

So Outis set sail aboard the Golden ship, guided and protected by the Knights of Sunrise and their adventures began. The Knights are led by Bartholemew Aries, the most famous soldier in Asalandia, though when their ship drifts off course to the mysterious island of Aquos Atalantious, the Princess of the island soon lures him to stay. So, the Knights of Sunrise become distracted by the beauties of this foreign island. After failing to find the prince, who had been taken by a monstrous octopus, the Golden ship sails onto Kastanair, without its leader, who had fallen in love with the Princess. They then sail to Syanthia, where the worlds’ meat was produced. There they meet, the young Kastanairian, Gwenia Xiachung, an enthusiastic vegan on a mission to stop everyone eating meat. Outis is thrown into a pig saving mission with Gwenia and is intrigued by the young girl. After saving the pigs and convincing the head of meat production to change his ways with a beautiful poem about animal empathy, Gwenia falls in love with Outis. She joins him and the Knights of Sunrise on the voyage to back to her country, Kastanair. Once they finally reach the shores of Kastanair, they are attacked on the shores by a small army, led by Caslian Jesper, the tough captain who worked his soldiers to exhaustion. The Knights, Outis and Gwenia are rescued by Nastab and his band of terrorists who take them on horseback through Kastanair to Mount Xian. Nastab and his men come from a rebel group who had been dwelling on the plateau of Mount Xian, plotting to overthrow the government of Kastanair. However, their leader, who had driven their group to crimes and violence, was hoarding their food and treasure.

Caslian Jesper follows the terrorists to Mount Xian, in pursuit of two of his enemies at once, the terrorists and the Asalandians. Outis and Gwenia are suddenly taken off their horses by huge hawks, who fly them up Mount Xian, to a cave opening. There Gwenia and Outis meet The Tall Man, a strange man with huge black eyes who has no name. He takes them into the cave, and they fall more tall people. There they learn that the tall people had been in the caves for hundreds of years and they care not for treasures of war. The tall man collects water from an underground stream and fruits from the cave roofs and they take Outis and Gwenia up to the top of the mountain. There they find Caslian’s army had managed to climb to the top of the mountain in attempt to attack but they were too drained to fight so the tall man shared his fruit with them. Both sides rested as Outis read a poem to the leader of the terrorists.

Outis and Gwenia are then taken to the capital, by an eclectic group including Nastab, The Tall Man and the Knights of Sunrise, they journey through the planes of Kastanair where they are attacked by wolves. The Knights and Nastab fight the wolves off valiantly and they continue. When they finally reach the capital Outis reads his poem to the President, but it is not the words of his poem alone that convince her to stop the war, it is the group he brings with him, a group of once enemies, who had come together with the same goal.

╰┈➤Book Details

Genre: YA Fantasy
Language: English
Pages: 300

To find out how to purchase this book, visit the author’s website at leejmavin.com.

╰┈➤Read if you love…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧Fantasy

Unputdownable

Coming of Age

༄.ೃ࿔*Page Turner

Excerpt:

Outis Everrett was an overthinker. Every night he would toss and turn in his tiny chamber and go over and over the things he had to do the next day. He would plan the next day and things he would say, over and over in his mind, until he slowly became too tired to think and then he would finally fall asleep. He had been like this for a while now and try as he might, he couldn’t change this habit. He became sleepy with this constant worrying and it became difficult to do his day-to-day tasks. During the days, he would mope about with his head down, being of little use to anyone. To anyone else, he was a nobody, a useless man that was easy to forget, but Outis Everrett was much more than that. Outis Everrett was a poet. Outis loved poetry and wrote poetry a lot, but he didn’t consider himself an actual poet at the time. He simply thought very little of himself. One thing he knew for sure, he wasn’t a strong man. He wasn’t a sailor, a guard or a soldier and he didn’t ever want to become one of these.

He sighed and thought of his father’s words, ‘We come from a long line of warriors, long have we held our swords high and defended our lands with pride. It is your destiny, my son, to take up arms and keep fighting.’

But he was no warrior, and he was as thin as limegoat and he had been cursed with his mother’s short stature. He was shorter than the average Asalandian and was a lot weaker. He spoke with a soft, unsure voice and often didn’t say anything at all. He rarely exercised and even his hair was unusually dark for an Asalandian (it was light brown, most Asalandians were blonde). He had avoided any kind of conflict his whole life, running from the bullies that called him Tiny in Sword School. As a child he often hid away in his room and read, he loved the adventure stories of journeys, and he especially loved the poets of the old world. He loved imagining, dreaming of far off lands, tales of monsters and horror. He was intrigued by the notion of destiny and longed for love. He was lonely and hid his thoughts from everyone. He thought nobody would understand him and was scared to look vulnerable. He just read all the time by himself and at times he wrote. He was an amazing poet but poets weren’t really talked about much in Asalandia. In fact, poetry wasn’t read much at all.

To be shunned was uncommon and not talked about. Most children (all able-bodied) trained hard before the test and if they failed, they tried again. Outis was shunned from the warriorship because he failed to take the final test. The reason for this was because he was too scared and couldn’t swing a sword hard enough to even make a sound. He was always a quiet young man, troubled by the weight of society, pressuring young men to fight, leading them to be battle ready. Everyone was constantly hearing about the threat of the enemy, every day they heard about the Kastanarians getting closer or the Kastanarians were preparing for war. The King was announcing it constantly and it was always being proclaimed from the palace. During these frequent announcements, everyone had to stand and listen. This was an unspoken rule and most people wanted to listen to the kings’ announcements. Outis wasn’t one of those people. He stopped listening to the kings’ announcements long ago and decided he would focus on other things. One of those things was poetry. He had read all the old poets over the years and started writing his own poetry out of frustration. He wanted to write poetry about the way things really were. He practiced his style constantly in his room, late at night, all by himself, slowly developing his voice. Then he wrote a very special poem. It was this very poem that changed the course of history in Asalandia. Yes, a poem did that. As absurd as it may seem, Outis managed to write the most amazing words every written. He crafted those words so beautifully that once you read it, your life would be forever different. That poem was such a special sonnet, it led to everything that happened afterward. It was in the lines of that poem that gave birth to the timeless truths, and they all came into view and the men that swayed power became powerless.

You might ask, how did the king manage to come across the poem of such an unimportant commoner like Outis. Well, that is a good question indeed. You see, around about the time Outis was masterfully creating the poem that changed the world forever, the King was actually going through a sort of inner, self-reflective process that had the Queen and the entire royal family particularly worried. It all started with the rain. Now Asalandia, famous for its beautiful sunshine, mostly had perfect weather, warm in the day, cool at night, deep blue skies that reflected the dark blue seas and it normally only rained during the rainy season for one month. However, that particular year, the rainy season stretched on for three months and it wasn’t just the typically light pitter patter, this was drizzle and depressing downpour, nonstop. So, this kept the King off his horses, which he loved dearly, and kept him in his chambers. This was where the King discovered poetry. The King couldn’t sleep well during the rainy season, so he often requested books from the library and read them to the wee hours of the morning. He started with the Histories and became quite depressed reading about all the wars, invasions, death and destruction. This left him feeling empty and alone, so he searched for more books. He was brought poetry and he instantly fell in love with it. He loved the rhyming patterns of the old poets and would sing them in his bed, often waking the poor Queen, who was getting very worried about her husband.

The King read poem after poem and slowly came to the realisation that something was missing. All the poems praised the warriors and gave thanks to all the kings. All the poems depicted Asalandia as heaven on earth, yet when he looked outside his window, all he saw was rain. He craved a poem that spoke the truth, that was as reflective as the water in Lake Asalandian (that is the clearest, cleanest and most beautiful lake in Asalandia), but he didn’t find it in his library. So, he slept less and less and worried with his head down reading, until he came up with it. The first Annual Poem Contest! This was the Contest that started it all and it was the king’s idea. He had signs made up immediately and had them posted all over the city. One sign happened to be posted right under Outis Everrett’s little house. When Outis saw the sign on the way, branded with the Kings sunbeam stamp of approval he was most pleased. It read:

The 1st Annual Poem Contest

Under order of the king, every man willing must enter the first annual poetry contest of Asalandia. The theme to the contest is: Asalandia, the winner receives fame and fortune beyond their wildest dreams and the highest honour, dinner with the king.

– Excerpted from The War Between by Lee J. Mavin, Tellwell Talent, 2026. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Lee J Mavin is the author of 11 books. He is also a teacher and father. He has a Masters in Creative Writing and am solely focused on writing fiction (fantasy and horror) and poetry. He is now in collaboration the illustrator Karolina Piotrowski, a Polish artist who has brought many stories to life. He has worked and studied in China and Japan and studied with Dr Xiaohuan Zhao (a master of Chinese poetry) to complete his book Li Bai’s Shadow, at the University of Sydney. He has two children who are both avid readers, so he is always in the loop with trends in children’s fiction. He is married and lives in Sydney, where he teaches English.

His latest book is the YA fantasy, The Wars Between.

Visit his website at leejmavin.com.

Connect with him on social media at:

╰┈➤ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lee.mavin.925/

╰┈➤ Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/mavin798

╰┈➤ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5103759.Lee_J_Mavin

╰┈➤ TikTok ➜ https://www.tiktok.com/@leemavin4