The Grace of God Virtual Book Tour

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True Stories of Faith and Hope

 

Religion Christian Nonfiction

 

Date Published: August 11, 2026

Publisher: Clay Bridges Press Publishing

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The power of prayer is undeniable. The Grace of God repeatedly illustrates how
God equipped us to carry His message of love during one of our nation’s
darkest times.
Fear had taken root in our hearts. Our ages and health
conditions felt like real disadvantages. We found comfort in Christian music,
so we shared it with our neighbors. Notecards to healthcare workers and
elderly shut-ins were warmly received, so we continued writing them and
encouraged others to do the same. Physical nourishment was needed as well, and
God provided a way for us to help there too. We prayed over every idea, and in
return, God blessed us with inspiration.
We learned that love is an action.
We learned that anyone can be
the hands and feet of our Lord.
We witnessed evidence of God’s
presence again and again.

Our hope is that these stories encourage you to persistently seek God through
prayer. His grace is unending.

The Grace of God standing book

EXCERPT

As we sat outside the hospital, we got to know some of the staff in many ways. We got to know some of their families and life situations; some shared about their past and their faith; others just shared how they are feeling in the moment. The following are a couple of their stories.

 

Stephanie: Stephanie is a young student nurse that we saw going in and out of the hospital with the other student nurses. However, as the numbers of COVID-19 cases surged, the hospital reached capacity and the number of deaths climbed to two to six a day, Stephanie lagged behind the other nurses. Finally, one day she was way behind the other students, and she stopped where were sitting. It was obvious that Stephanie had been crying. She stood before us with her shoulders slumping, her head hung low, and her eyes red. We asked her if she was OK, and she began to sob uncontrollably. She lifted her head wiping her tears and simply said, “I don’t know if I can do this. I didn’t become a nurse to watch people die every day. I wanted to try to help them get better, to help heal them. It seems all I do is try to make them comfortable and hold their hands because their families cannot come in before they die. I don’t know if I can do this.” At this point we asked her name, and she said Stephanie. We asked if she would like to pray with us and she said, “Yes . . . please.” We took out our three-strand prayer cords and explained that because we couldn’t hold hands, we were using the cords so we could have some kind of connection. We explained the idea of the three strands comes from Ecclesiastes 4:12, with says that three strands can’t be easily broken. The three strands had a meaning: one strand for her, one for us praying for her, and one for our Lord to whom we were praying. Stephanie smiled and cried softly. Stephanie took one end of the cord, and we took the other and began to pray. We prayed for her peace of mind and heart and for her strength to face this horrible disease. We prayed that she would lean into the Lord and accept the comfort the Lord has for each of us. We said amen, and she thanked us. We told her, “No, thank you for doing so much more than us.” We hoped the prayer helped and that Stephanie would find some comfort. 

 

We continue to go to the hospitals to pray, and we continue to look for Stephanie each time we are there. We watch the student nurses as they walk in and walk out of the hospital. Since that time, many groups of student nurses have come and gone, but no Stephanie. We have prayed for Stephanie often, praying she found peace and the strength to flourish no matter what she chooses to do. We pray that she leans into the Lord and follows His will. We ask ourselves whether Stephanie finished her nursing degree; we don’t know. It doesn’t seem like she finished with the group we saw her with originally, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t finish. Her finishing is not the important thing but rather her finding her place in this world through our Lord. Stephanie gave all she could just as the Lord gives to us.

 

Hot dog man. While sitting outside a hospital, we don’t always get someone’s name. Sometimes, the staff passes quickly, and sometimes it just never comes up as strange as that may seem. When we don’t find out their names, we give them nicknames as a way of remembering them. “Hot dog man” got his name when we talked with him at the end of one of his shifts; he told us all he wanted was a good Chicago-style hot dog and thus the nickname. If you don’t like that nickname, please know it was much better than his original nickname, which was “angry man.” We called him “angry man” because the first time we met him, he stopped and said, “Why don’t people (expletive) just stay home and wear masks!” He was so angry at people for not doing what they were guided to do and getting sick and making their jobs so hard. We found out later that he was a respiratory therapist, so he encountered the disease up close every day. However as time passed, we became friendly, and he shared the difficulty of seeing so many sick and dying. We would see him at least once a week, but then, he was gone. We were left not knowing what happened to him or whether he was all right. That was the hard part of what we did; sometimes, people would just be gone.

About the Author
Tom Banwart
Tom Banwart spent most of his life in northern Illinois and graduated
summa cum laude from Trinity International University. A promising corporate
career was cut short when chronic health issues led him into permanent
long-term disability, reshaping both his priorities and his path.

Blessed with creative talents, Tom turned a simple woodburning hobby into a
small business and embraced the role of “Mr. Mom” to his three
sons, finding purpose and joy in the rhythms of family life.

Though he often sensed a calling to do God’s work, Tom pushed it aside
for many years. That changed in 2020. As the pandemic altered daily life and
stirred deep questions of faith, he found himself in honest, raw conversations
with Christ—dialogues that became a spiritual lifeline. Those
reflections and personal experiences evolved into writing, eventually forming
the foundation of his first book.

Today, Tom continues to use his creativity and vulnerability to encourage
others, sharing stories that point to God’s presence in every season,
especially the difficult ones.

 

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Inferno Teaser

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Kiss of Death MC (#18)

 

MC Romance

 

Date Published: September 18, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

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I survived the fire. Juniper gives me a reason to burn down the world.

 

Juniper — Getting dumped on my twenty-first birthday is bad enough. Finding
Brett, my ex, at Throttle with another woman turns humiliation into open
warfare. So I walk up to the biggest, meanest looking biker in the place,
climb into his lap, and claim him as mine. Inferno plays along a little too
well, and one reckless kiss becomes the hottest night of my life. Still, it
was just a one night stand. Should have ended then and there. Instead, my ex
decides he doesn’t like losing what he threw away. His calls become
threats, then the threats become violence. My bakery, my home, everything my
grandmother left me becomes a target. But Brett’s forgotten one thing.
I’m not alone anymore. I have Inferno, Kiss of Death, and a fire of my
own.

Inferno — Juniper lands in my lap wearing red lipstick, motorcycle boots, and
enough attitude to wake something in me I thought died years ago. She’s
way too young for me, and a woman running from a controlling ex is trouble. I
also know the second Brett puts a bruise on her skin, he becomes my problem. I
went to prison for nearly killing a man who hurt a woman I loved. I’ll
burn my life down before I let history repeat itself. But Juniper isn’t
looking for a savior. She wants a partner willing to stand beside her while
she fights back. Good thing I’ve always liked playing with fire.
Brett’s about to learn exactly why they call me Inferno.


WARNING: Adult language and situations, abuse, arson, and a violent stalker
ex-boyfriend.

 

Excerpt

 

Copyright ©2026 Marteeka Karland

 

Juniper

The sad little grocery store cake sitting on my counter summed up my life
right now. I made cakes for a living, so I knew exactly what I was looking at.
Shortening-based buttercream, whipped too fast so it held those little air
pockets that collapsed if you pressed a finger in. Red gel piping simply said
“Happy Birthday” and skipped my name entirely, because a name is
an upcharge, and, apparently, I wasn’t worth the extra four dollars.
Twenty-one candles would’ve cost more too. There were no candles.

That morning I’d spent six hours at my own shop building a dinosaur cake
for a five-year-old named Milo. The creation had hand-piped scales on a
fondant T-rex while his mom hovered by the register asking if I could make the
teeth “less scary, but still cool.” I believed, the whole time I
worked, that tonight would be mine. That somebody would finally build me
something special for my birthday.

I closed the shop two hours early. Cooked pork chops with the mustard cream
sauce that Brett loves so much. I set the good plates from his mother that I
was always terrified I’d chip.

He’d come in forty minutes late, jacket still buttoned like he
hadn’t decided if he was staying, studying his phone like it held the
secrets of the universe. “You would not believe this lake
listing,” he said, dropping into his chair, not even glancing my way.
“Guy wants two point one for a place that’s basically standing on
a septic field. I told him, I said, ‘Gary, I can sell water to a
drowning man, but I can’t sell delusion’.” He laughed at his
own line. I simply looked at him, trying to talk myself into being cheerful.

I cut into my chop and waited for a gap in his running monologue. “So I
made this dinosaur cake today,” I said, “for this kid, Milo, and
his mom wanted the teeth less scary but still –”

“Yeah, that reminds me, Gary’s brother-in-law does teeth,
actually, orthodontist, and get this –” and he was off again, and I
just… let him go on. Because why not? I picked my fork back up and took
a bite while he rambled on. He still hadn’t told me happy birthday.

His phone buzzed and he glanced down before turning it over. After a while, it
buzzed again.

“Hey,” I said, and I tried to keep it light, “We said no
phones tonight. Right?”

He didn’t answer right away as color swept his neck to his face and a
flash of annoyance crossed his features. Then he gave me a “sorry for
you” smile. “Junie,” he said, setting his fork down
carefully. “Can I say something, and I need you to just hear it, not
react to it?”

“Um, sure.” My stomach started to roll. I recognized his tone and
I knew this would be a twenty-first birthday I’d rather forget.

“You’re a lot,” he said, simply. “I don’t mean
that as an insult. You’re needy in a way you probably don’t even
realize. Phones-away requests, the whole birthday production, the plates.
It’s a lot of ask-for, given we’re barely even in a
relationship.” He cleared his throat. “And you’re emotional.
Everything’s a whole thing with you. I can’t mention anything
without you needing your turn.”

I opened my mouth but couldn’t form words. My throat tightened with
emotion, and I could feel tears forming behind my eyes.

“And I’ll be honest,” he continued, “because I think
you’d rather I was honest, you’re kind of boring, Junie. Same
shop, same recipes, same everything. Your five-year plan is a second oven. I
used to think that was cute, but I thought you’d grow out of it once you
ran out of money and got a real job. I don’t think it’s cute
anymore. I need a woman with a little ambition. I’m going places, and
you’re… not. Dinosaur cake? Really, Junie?”

Somewhere deep inside me, a voice was screaming, actually screaming, say
something, say anything, throw the water glass, throw a pork chop at him, ask
him who’s texting him at eight-fifteen on your birthday, and what came
out of my mouth, soft and stupid, was, “The pork chops are getting
cold.”

“Juniper. I think we both know this has been coming.”

I looked down at my plate so he wouldn’t see my eyes. I didn’t
trust what my face was doing. No way was I going to give him the satisfaction.
I forced the smallest shrug I could manage.

He pushed his chair back, slow and deliberate, like he wanted me to watch
every little thing. “Look, Junie, you’re a great girl. You really
are. But we’re just not… compatible.” He wiped his mouth
with his napkin. “It’s not the end of the world. You’ll land
on your feet. I mean, you already have your little cake shop, right?”

Wow. My little cake shop. The business I’d thrown every ounce of blood,
sweat, and tears I had into. The fact was, I cleared more with my
“little cake shop” than he made with his real estate ventures. I
suspected it was the same smarmy personality I initially fell for. Unlike me,
apparently his clients knew how to cut their losses and get the fuck out of
Dodge.

“I guess so,” I said, because what else was there? I stabbed a
piece of pork chop and chewed it, even though I could barely swallow, doing my
best to act as if none of this had any effect on me.

His phone buzzed again. He actually reached for it this time. “I’m
going to head out. I’ve got to call Gary back before he does something
stupid on that listing.” He didn’t even look at me. Just stood up,
fixed his jacket, and checked his hair in the microwave door reflection.
“I’ll send someone to get my stuff later.” The door clicked
shut behind him as he left.

I went to the counter where the little birthday cake rested when the sticker
on the side caught my attention. The damned thing was on clearance! He’d
bought me a generic birthday cake on clearance because it had passed its
freshness date.

For a minute I just stood there, stomach clenched tight in the heavy silence.
Anger was slow in coming. Even when it did the feeling was directed more at
myself than Brett. I chose to stay with him for whatever reason I had at any
given time. So as much as Brett was a bastard, this disastrous birthday was as
much my fault as it was his. I should never have agreed to let him move in
with me. My only excuse is I was young and bought all his flattering.

We’d been together for two and a half years. I was right out of high
school and just taking over my grandmother’s bakery after her sudden
death. Brett had helped me through one of the most difficult times in my life,
but I suspected now he’d taken up with me because I was an easy target.
After all, he’d been living rent-free in what had been my
grandmother’s apartment since a month or so after we met.

The window over the sink stared back at me. This was my twenty-first birthday,
Goddamnit! What did one do on their twenty-first birthday? Get schnozzled and
burn the world down. At least I’d burn down my old life. Then I could
rise like a phoenix from the ashes. Or something.

I pushed away from the sink and headed to my bedroom. Going to the closet, I
pulled out the red dress I’d bought especially for tonight. The red was
probably too bright, but I didn’t want subtle. I wanted the color and
all the lovely brightness and chaos it might cause under the right
circumstances.

I showered and did my hair and makeup before slipping the silky dress over my
head, letting it settle over my hips to brush against the middle of my thighs.
I zipped up the back, then smoothed the sleeveless garment over my curves. I
let my hand run down my arm, tracing the small, faded burn scars from my
childhood. Brett said I should get them lasered — so I wouldn’t be
reminded of my broken childhood. I suspected the real reason he wanted rid of
them was because they didn’t fit in with his image of what he wanted me
to be. Well, fuck that shit.

The red lipstick came last. Again, I’d chosen it specially to match the
dress. I drew it on slowly, even though my hand shook a little. Lipstick had
always been my armor. I had nicely shaped lips. They were my best feature, in
my opinion. The dramatic color only enhanced them. I smiled into the mirror,
wide and mean, red as a warning label.

I started to slide my feet into the Fuck Me heels I’d purchased —
again, specifically for this dress. Then I caught a glimpse of my motorcycle
boots. I’d bought them when Brett decided he wanted to get a motorcycle.
He’d taken me on exactly one ride, saying I didn’t know how to
ride with him and I would get us both killed if I moved the wrong way.
He’d never bothered to tell me what exactly I was doing wrong, so fuck
him anyway. On a whim, I stuffed my feet into the boots and took a look at
myself in the mirror. I didn’t quite look like Alice from Resident Evil,
but it was close enough I’d take it.

Throttle was less than a mile away. The bar was a known roughneck place, but
any damage caused by patrons always seemed to be contained to the property
itself and didn’t spill over into nearby neighborhoods. Though it had a
questionable reputation, I’d always wanted to go, thinking living on the
wild side held just the appeal I wanted.

 

 

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double
life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife
by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in
spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable
heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful
ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are
speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined
with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a
sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka’s latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don’t forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka’s beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15

 

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Queen of Starlight Blitz

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Fantasy

Date Published: September 14, 2026

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The stars gave her power. The darkness will give her a crown.

A year after defeating the evil wizard army, the elves of Edira prosper, yet
Luma, the Daughter of Starlight, senses something is amiss. Shadows move where
light should reign, and ominous whispers fill her mind, hinting that this
hard-won peace may be more fragile than anyone realizes.

Soon, attacks by a vicious darkness confirm her fears, and Edira is not the
only world under threat. Malicath, home of the wizards, faces the same
darkness, which drains and corrupts magic, including Luma’s own powerful
starlight.

Faced with a shared enemy, Luma and the elves form a tenuous alliance with the
wizards. Together, they search for the Unseen Star, an ancient magical relic
capable of restoring balance to both their worlds. But as the darkness grows
stronger and time runs out, Luma realizes that all magic demands a
price—and this one may be more than she can pay.

Return to the magical world of Edira in this sequel to the multi-award-winning
fantasy, Daughter of Starlight.

About the Author

Molly M. Hammond

Molly is passionate about crafting meaningful moments and heartfelt narratives
in fantasy-adventure stories brimming with magic and mystery. An unapologetic
language nerd, she earned a degree in English and Communication, laying a
strong foundation for her writing career. Not stopping there, Molly pursued a
second degree in American Sign Language (ASL) Interpreting. As an avid runner,
Molly often gets her best story ideas while running and remains outraged that
those ideas do not then present themselves, fully formed, on the page. When
she’s not running, writing, or interpreting, Molly can often be found
taking an excessive number of photos of her dog, Bungee, and her two cats,
Rose and Clover. Molly lives in the beautiful St. Croix River Valley of
Minnesota with her husband and two sons, who bring her joy every day.

 

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Chow Chow Blitz

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Children’s Book

Date Published: September 14, 2026

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Meet Dea — the little Chow Chow puppy with a BIG heart!

 

With her beautiful deep-blue fur, bright eyes, and sweet fluffy face, Dea is
impossible to forget. But this curious little puppy has one special talent:
finding trouble wherever she goes!

Luckily, Dea has Rocky by her side. Together, they discover that being brave
doesn’t mean never feeling scared. Sometimes, true courage means slowing down,
being careful, and listening to those who love you.

But Dea’s adventures are only beginning…

Beyond the garden are new friends, mysterious places, and unexpected
surprises. And somewhere out there, a mysterious fox is watching.

Who is she? What does she want? And where will Dea’s curiosity take her next?

Dea will be back… so hold on tight! Her next adventure could be even more
exciting!

 

About the Author

 Daniela Hristova

 Daniela Hristova arrived in the UK with an English vocabulary consisting of
little more than “teabag” and a background as a multi-media journalist,
actress, and singer who had spent years working in television, radio,
newspaper, and stage in her home country. With a diverse professional journey
that later ranged from wielding a mop to building a career in leadership and
court security, she has navigated life’s twists with a steady faith, a sharp
eye, and a wonderfully dry sense of humor. Channeling her unique experiences
and cultural blunders into the written word, she has penned a witty tribute to
the resilience it takes to start over. When she isn’t writing or tackling new
adventures, she enjoys spending time with her family and her dog, Dea. Fluent
in Faux Pas is her debut memoir.

 

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The Safe Room Week Blast

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Thriller

Date Published: 09-10-2026

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When I was fifteen years old, I made a mistake. I trusted the warm smile
of a stranger called Peter Harlow, and accepted a ride home in his car.

It would be the last moment of my life I’d ever feel safe again.

The trauma of what happened that night will never leave me—and it was
only the beginning. For the last nineteen years, I’ve been trapped in a
nightmare of blocked numbers, violated restraining orders, and the compulsion
to scan every face in every crowd, waiting for the day when his will be among
them.

But I’ve also spent the time preparing. My home has become a fortress, with
reinforced doors, perimeter cameras, and a safe room in the cellar. I’ve even
taught my seven-year-old daughter how to call for help. When I finally have to
face Peter Harlow again, I’ll be ready.

Or so I thought.

Because on the night of a furious snowstorm, a terrified stranger arrives at
my gate. Emily is barefoot, bruised, and desperate for help—claiming her
husband just tried to kill her.

To let her in from the storm would mean breaking every rule I’ve made to
protect myself and my daughter—but could I live with myself if I
didn’t?

But what follows is everything I’ve lived in fear of for all these years.
First, the lights go out. Then, the internet dies. Next, the phone line goes
dead—and finally, I find myself trapped inside my own safe room,
watching through a camera feed as the man who stole my life for two decades
walks the halls of my home, playing happy families with my little girl.

I built this fortress to keep him out. Now, it’s the only thing keeping
me from protecting my child.


The Safe Room is a heart-stopping psychological thriller by bestselling author
Sarah A. Denzil, the “mistress of twists.” Essential reading for fans of Alice
Feeney, Freida McFadden, and Caroline Kepnes.

 

 

About the Author

 

Sarah A. Denzil
Sarah A. Denzil is a million copy bestselling author of psychological
suspense novels. Her books include number one bestseller Silent Child, which
was a Goodreads Choice semi-finalist in 2017. Her books have been published in
several different languages and have appeared on the Wall Street Journal
bestseller list.

Sarah lives in Yorkshire with her husband and cats, enjoying the scenic
countryside and rather unpredictable weather. She loves to write moody,
psychological fiction with plenty of twists and turns.

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