Spotlight: Sense, Sensibility and Shifters: L Mad Hildebrandt, Bianca White, Roslyn St. Clair, Ann C. Orlandi, Angela Kady, Gabbi Grey, AK Nevermore

A Paranormal Jane Austen Retellings Collection

Romance Café Collection Book 46

Genre: Paranormal Romance Anthology

Jane Austen’s timeless love stories take on a supernatural twist in Sense, Sensibility and Shifters, a captivating anthology of paranormal romance.

Step into a world where Darcy’s pride hides a dark secret, and Elizabeth’s prejudice may cost her more than her heart. Each story in this anthology brings an iconic Austen romance to life in a thrilling new way.

From the mysterious moors of Northanger Abbey to the haunted halls of Pemberley, Sense & Sensibility and Shifters invites you to experience classic love stories with an otherworldly edge.

Perfect for readers who adore the elegance of Austen and the allure of the paranormal, this anthology will whisk you away to a world where love is ethereal, powerful, and worth every risk.

Including:

The Tables Turned by Angela Kady

Brewing Affection by Ann C. Orlandi

Pride and Possession by Roslyn St. Clair

In the Service of Heaven by Bianca White 

Shift of Heart by Ariel Dawn

Emma, the Enchanter by L Mad Hildebrandt

My Beloved Witch by Gabbi Grey 

And featuring:

Couching Serendipity by AK Nevermore

Vexed by an offhand comment, jinn Mira Marid sets out to prove that cupids aren’t the only beings capable of selecting soulmates. But when setting up her best friend Kade Eros becomes more than just wishful thinking, serendipity takes over, and it turns out that wishing for true love isn’t off the table after all…

Excerpt

We begin in a posh bar somewhere in lower Manhattan. Dark wood and butter soft leather. Polished bronze and dusky amber lights. Soft industrial pop plays, sultry and slightly discordant, highlighting the edge of conversations and the looks thrown between complete strangers as they prowl amongst Friday night’s fresher, less jaded clientele.

A meat market, yes. The bar, a well-known hunting ground for both hopeful and horny, lorn and libidinous, the room simmers with the potential for lust and love.

But in one corner, a man and a woman sit, removed from the game. Together, yet apart and uncannily separate from the rest, their interest lies upon a couple secreted away in a booth, and the wager they’ve made concerning them…

“Quite the match, aren’t they?” Mira’s brow rose, her lips grazing the edge of her martini glass. She averted her eyes from the couple’s canoodling and took a small sip of her drink, gin and vermouth the barest whisper upon her tongue.

“Mmm.” On the stool beside her, Kade was noncommittal. He raised a tattooed hand. His heavy platinum watch slipped to the sleeve of his bespoke Armani suit as he loosened his tie, its cornflower silk the exact shade of his eyes. He glanced at her askance from beneath a fall of raven wing hair. “This doesn’t prove anything, you know.”

Mira’s laughter rang out. People turned, but she was used to that and rather enjoyed it. She tsked, patting Kade’s arm with crocodile conciliation, her tapered, crimson nails complimenting his pinstripes. “Aww. Not quite the corner on the market you’d been led to believe?” Her eyes sparked as brightly as the diamond on the observed woman’s left hand…which was currently thrust as deep in her beau’s thinning hair as his tongue was down her throat.

“What were the limits to your power again…?” Kade drummed his fingers on the bar top, pensive. “Ah, yes, no more than three wishes, no bringing people back from the dead, and,” he paused, so smug she could just slap him, “no wishes for love. That, my dear, falls solely into a cupid’s purview.”

“And I’ll maintain that one doesn’t have to be the spawn of Aphrodite to nudge two people together that obviously should be. You don’t need to wish for love to find it.” Mira batted her lashes and teased an olive from her drink pick with her teeth.

Kade’s hand flew to his breast. “Spawn? Mira, you wound me.” He chuckled and threw back the last of his bourbon. “Though you are right about one thing, those wishing for love seldom find it. It’s the ones not looking for it that get hit most often.” He cocked his brow and she rolled her eyes at the jab, having given up on experiencing that fickle emotion long ago.

“But regardless,” he continued, “ring or no, that is lust…on his part anyway, and I’d venture it’s avarice on hers.” He eyed the couple still going at it and set his glass down. “You, little jinn, exist to grant desires, whereas I—” he grinned, and a mousy woman seated behind Mira gasped. Kade’s eyes flicked to her, then back to Mira, his stupid smile impossibly wider. “Am made for love.” He collected his phone from the bar and shot off a quick text.

Mira rolled her eyes and swatted his chest. Gah, cupids were intolerable—especially this cupid. “So you’re telling me that’s not true love?”

“Hardly,” he said, re-pocketing the silly device and collecting his overcoat. “But please, do keep trying.”

Mira made a concerted effort not to pout until he’d cleared the large windows at the front of the restaurant and was halfway down the block. Only then did she allow herself to slump, her gaze going back to the couple in the booth. How could Kade not see how perfect those two were for each other?

The woman, Mira’s former client, had wished for a steady job, and with a slight twist of serendipity, there was the man. He was in need of a nanny for his Pomeranian.

Her second wish had been for a rent-controlled apartment and fortuitously, he preferred live-in help.

And her last wish had been to gain a skill to ensure her continued employment; he was more than eager to pay for her canine reiki classes.

The two of them were absolute kismet. A real life beauty and the—well, he wasn’t quite rugged enough to be a beast, but still—And age gaps had been a thing literally forever. His winter to her spring was both classic and on trend. Mira took another sip of her martini as her former client minced by on six-inch stilettos. How she walked the dog in those…

Mira waved the thought away. Not her concern, aside from the fact that Kade was wrong, and her most fervent wish was to prove it to him if it were the last—

“Um, excuse me?”

Mira turned to the brunette behind her and cocked a brow. “Yes?”

The mousy little thing bowed her shoulders as if chagrinned. As she should be for leaving the house dressed like that. How did she even get in here?

“I—was that your boyfriend?”

“Was that my…?” Was she mad?

The brunette’s cheeks flared crimson. “Sorry, it’s none of my business, I just—the way he grinned at me, I—never mind.”

Now, wait a moment. Mira caught the woman’s arm as she went to turn, and she started at Mira’s smile. It did have the tendency to dazzle, all part of the onboarding process. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. In fact, he’s completely unattached at the moment. Why do you ask?”

The brunette glanced down at Mira’s fingers wrapped around her arm and swallowed heavily. “No, I—” She shook her head, then buzzed her lips with a little laugh. “It’s stupid, but when he smiled, I—Butterflies.” She shrugged.

“Butterflies?” The woman nodded, and Mira’s grin grew larger. More like cupid’s wings. She let go of the brunette’s arm and held her hand out to shake. “I’m Mira Marid. And you are?”

“Becca Hornsby.” She fumbled with a large canvas tote at her elbow, her cuticles rimmed with the rainbow as she extended her hand.

Mira’s brow rose. “You’re an artist.” A wisp of energy passed from her to Becca, shackling the woman’s wrist to her own. Hello, new client.

“I—Oh!” Becca’s gray-green eyes widened, as if she’d felt it. She hooked a flyaway tendril of hair behind her ear and dipped her head. “N-no, not like you’re probably thinking. I paint interiors. Walls,” she said, as if that needed clarifying.

“Murals?”

“Um, kind of? Not like pictures. I work in geometrics…” She glanced around the posh bar. “I was supposed to be meeting a potential buyer here, but I don’t—” She turned back to Mira and forced a smile. “I don’t think they’re going to show.”

“Pity,” Mira slowly enunciated each syllable, running her eyes over the woman and mentally swapping makeover options like fashion plates. It would take some work, but…Mira smiled brightly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

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About the Author

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.

Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.

She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen and writing a column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.

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Sense, Sensibility & Shifters

Spotlight: Red Star Hustle / Apprehension by Sam J. Miller and Mary Robinette Kowal

This powerhouse pairing delivers two gripping tales set in far-future, high-stakes universes where character-driven drama collides with pulse-pounding sci-fi action:

Red Star Hustle (Miller)

Meet Aran: a high-class escort framed for murder, now racing across a galaxy of mech battles and wormhole shortcuts. Add a noble clone, a bounty hunter with secrets, and the kind of queer, chaotic energy only Sam J. Miller can deliver, and you’ve got a space noir that blends emotional grit with full-tilt adventure.

Apprehension (Kowal)

When a family vacation turns into a planetary crisis, a retired special forces operative must rescue her kidnapped grandson—bad hip and all. Kowal weaves a layered, emotionally charged mystery set against alien political unrest, proving once again why she's a master of science fiction storytelling.

Together, these stories deliver a dynamic mix of espionage, emotion, and electrifying worldbuilding.

Excerpt

Back when I was in my thirties, I'd spent five long and weary years living on the surface of Namhatanu while the dust and rubble of war had hidden the modern cities beneath corpses both human and Herl. And here I was, forty years later, voluntarily stepping out onto the surface of the planet without a piece of protective gear in sight. 

Before, I’d dropped on an Interstellar Service Corps ship with a squad in a streak of plasma. Now, I glided down in first-class seats with my son-in-law and grandson on the orbital elevator down from Piper Nine Station to its terminus in Tali Province, at the equator. 

And walking out of the terminus onto the street, I knew I had a problem. It was crowded with vendors and so many Herl. I thought I’d be fine. I’d thought the PTSD was long behind me. But sweat coated me and I knew that old rabbiting in my chest. So many Herl, with their backwards knees and long noses. I started looking for snipers that weren’t there, and drafting escape routes in my head.

Why the hell had I come back here? 

Because under the lie of war had been the Herl’s culture of reckless generosity? Or simply because Namhatanu was not Earth. 

I had memories here, sure, but not of Sam. 

And my son-in-law and my grandson had no memories of Namhatanu at all. Maybe we could all lie our way past grief.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that Jax kept one hand on Tristan as we worked our way through the crowd. It wasn't that I didn't trust my son-in-law to keep an eye on my grandson, it was just that I didn't trust a six-year old to stay focused, period. 

“Grandma! Where’s the hotel? How much farther is it?”

“Not too far, sport! I got the route pulled up on my HUD!” I sounded so goddamned cheerful.

“Awesome!” Jax gave a thumbs-up with one hand, and with the other kept Tristan from darting for a display of wooden puzzles. 

Indications of when the ISC had occupied the planet after the war, were still everywhere, with signs written in Herl, English, and Chinese. We passed a small group of activists who carried signs in all three languages urging people to vote for Unification. ONE PLANET,, ONE PEOPLE. The area closest to the elevator had cookie-cutter kiosks that catered to tourists, all with terrible pun names like "NamHATanu " which sold hats. And a tanning salon -- so you didn't become orbital-pale -- named “NamhaTANu.” Hell. Somewhere around here, they probably had a restaurant named “NOM NOMhatanu.” The overlay path glowed on my subdermal heads-up display. God. I remembered the days before subdermals -- Hell. I remember the days before HUDs and I do not miss navigating with a handheld.

Herl venders kept calling out to us and to the other passengers disembarking, and I had to work to keep from flinching for no damn reason. I had plenty of Herl friends that I’d served with and kept up with over the years. I knew the difference between nose sacs puffing up in pleasure and feathered crests rising in threat. Damn it all, I was just out of practice at managing old scars. The rabbit in my chest was getting more frantic. I bent my head as if I were attending to our robosuitcases, but they were trundling along dutifully. 

Around us, representatives of various species peeled away from the elevator hub. There were more Herl than any other species, which made sense on account of Namhatanu being their home. Some of them wore human-style suits, which accentuated their ostrichlike legs. Other wore the long traditional robes of Sati Province. Most, though, had the closer ribbon bindings of Tali Provence. And I saw more than a few of their feather-like crests fluff in irritation at having to dodge a tourist. After the Herl, I saw fewer humans than had been deployed here during the war, and the occasional fuzzy orb of a Fealif or the slender shape of a Pimin. 

Tristian piped up, “Daddy, are we the ones who look funny here?” 

Jax made a pained face, and I did not envy him navigating that bit of childish questioning. “Good thought, buddy. But remember what we said about talking about how people look? If it’s nothing they can change in less than thirty seconds, then we don’t need to point it out.” 

“Oh, right! Like the bags under Grandma’s eyes.” 

“Um. . . A better example would be that we could talk about your favorite shirt.” 

Jax shot me a chagrined look with his face while my HUD pinged with an incoming message. Sorry about that.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Authors

Sam J. Miller’s books have been called “must reads” and “bests of the year” by USA TODAY, Entertainment Weekly, NPR, and Oprah Daily, among others, and have been translated into nine languages. They’ve also been banned in Florida and stolen by AI. His work has won the Nebula, Locus, Shirley Jackson, and Subjective Chaos Kind of Awards, as well as the Astounding Award. He’s also the last in a long line of butchers. Sam lives in New York City,

Mary Robinette Kowal is the author of the bestselling Lady Astronaut Universe, The Spare Man, Ghost Talkers, and The Glamourist Histories series. She is part of the award-winning podcast Writing Excuses and a four-time Hugo Award winner. Her short fiction appears in Uncanny, Tor, and Asimov’s. Mary Robinette, a professional puppeteer, lives in Denver. 

Spotlight: Unfollow Me, He Follows Me Duet by Kathryn Caraway

First comes the true story. Then comes her fictional revenge.

Unfollow Me 

A Terrifying True Story of a Sadistic Stalker

Genre: True Crime Memoir 

What if the man stalking you worked in IT—at the police department?

This true crime case is told with brutal honesty, exposing the silent terror of stalking. Gripping details of kidnapping, intimate partner abuse, and surveillance using everyday tools engrained in society—and most households—uncovers systemic blindspots. From overlooked police reports to exhausting court battles, it’s a story of a woman’s resilience in the face of relentless fear. A must read for fans of true crime, survival stories, and psychological thrillers.

Stalkers don’t just hide in the shadows. Some log in.

Kathryn meets Todd, a charming IT expert for the police department. He coaxes her into a brief relationship and turns a normal breakup into a reign of terror. Todd isn’t just obsessed—he’s inside Kathryn’s home network.

He doesn’t have to be in her house to watch her. Or hear her.

He sees her text messages—on his screen.

He can follow her car without ever leaving his house.

And he even tells her why: “You are mine. And I don’t share.”

When Todd asks Kathryn if she wants to see death coming, she tells him no. Now she waits for it every day. Dismissed by officers, Kathryn builds a case police can no longer ignore. But the more she learns about Todd’s past, the more she suspects he might be tied to the unsolved murder of a woman she has only one thing in common with: Todd.

And if she’s right, she might be next . . .

He Follows Me 

Genre: Thriller, Suspense

Kathryn Caraway thought a conviction would end the nightmare. She was wrong.

Todd Bennett is getting out of jail—and he hasn’t forgotten her. The government offers her a lifeline: new name, new life, new country. But freedom comes at a cost and safety is an illusion.

U.S. Marshal Wes Kade doesn’t care about feelings. He cares about results. Cold, disciplined, and relentless, he has built a career on keeping people alive. But something about this case doesn’t add up. He realizes this isn’t personal—it’s war.

With nowhere left to hide, Kathryn must face the terrifying truth that some nightmares never end.

A gripping psychological thriller where survival isn’t just about escape—it’s about fighting back.

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About the Author 

Kathryn Caraway lived life as the target of a stalker for years. After her perpetrator’s conviction, Kathryn founded the Unfollow Me Project to raise education and awareness of the debilitating effects of stalking, as well as to offer support to those being stalked. For more information, go to https://unfollowme.com.

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Unfollow Me

Spotlight: Fear of Flames by Aleatha Romig

Release Date: October 20

Available In Kindle Unlimited

She writes thrillers for a living, but nothing could prepare her for the one she’s living now.

By day, Michelle Holdcraft is the quiet woman-next-door in small-town Indiana. But by night, she's D. Valentine, a bestselling thriller author with a mind for murder and secrets.

Her real life? 

Completely ordinary. Until one unplanned trip to visit her estranged father in Iron Falls, Massachusetts, flips everything upside down.

She wakes to a gunshot only to find her father’s body in a pool of blood on the first floor and flames engulfing the walls.
She barely escapes the burning house. Fleeing barefoot into the snow, Michelle becomes the only witness to a crime that no one in Iron Falls wants solved. Especially the sheriff.

Hiding in the snowy pines as she watches her father’s home burn, Michelle doesn’t know what to do, until a mysterious man appears, offering to help her—to save her life.

Michelle has never met Fletch—surely, she would remember this handsome and dangerous man if she had. However, Fletch knew her father and knows a lot about her, including her alter ego and her mother’s mysterious death.

With limited options, Michelle accepts Fletch’s help. It isn’t until she sees the large tattoo across his wide shoulder blades that she is shaken to the core. Michelle has seen that exact tattoo before—on her father.

Fletch might be her only ally... but he is hiding something. Her life has become one of her thrillers.
But this time, the story’s out of her hands—and the ending might just kill her.

This time, the heroine doesn’t get to write the final page.

What will it bring?

Have you been Aleatha’d?

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

Meet Aleatha Romig

Aleatha Romig is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Indiana. She grew up in Mishawaka, graduated from Indiana University, and is currently living south of Indianapolis. Together with her high-school sweetheart and husband of over thirty years, they've raised three children. Before she became a full-time author, she worked days as a dental hygienist and spent her nights writing. Now, when she’s not imagining mind-blowing twists and turns or her new lighter side, she likes to spend her time with her family and friends. Her pastimes include reading and creating heroes/anti-heroes who haunt your dreams! 

Keep up with Aleatha Romig and subscribe to her newsletter: https://www.aleatharomig.com/contact

To learn more about Aleatha Romig & her books, visit here!

Connect with Aleatha Romig: https://www.aleatharomig.com/contact

Cover Reveal: Hustled by Roya Carmen

Publication date: November 20th 2025

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Sports

Fun and Games.
An indecent proposal.
And a whole lot of heartbreak.

Pro billiards player Caine Hall is hot as hell. When he walks into the pool hall I co-own with my husband Reeves, I nearly fall all over myself. Over a few playful games, we get to know each other. He’s smooth and sly, and Reeves instantly hates his guts. He’d kick him out if Mr. Hall didn’t just happen to be our landlord.

He says he wants to help us, and we’re all ears. But when he makes us an outrageous proposal, we can’t believe the gall of the man. Caine wants to spend time with me. It’s innocent enough, albeit very weird. We’re desperate because we’re behind on our rent, so eventually, after much pondering, we reluctantly accept.

Caine treats me like a princess and shows me a whole new world. He takes things slow, just like he does at the pool table. Yet… he scares me — he’s intense and obsessive. And as he abuses his power, his demands and proposals intensify.

Reeves and I are falling apart. We keep telling ourselves we’ll say no next time, but Caine has got us both under his spell, efficiently manipulating us both in very different ways.

I’m anxious about my marriage and my unpredictable, hot-tempered husband. Yet I can’t stop thinking about Caine. He’s in my head. He’s under my skin. Reeves and I have agreed that this is simply a financial arrangement, something we’re doing for our livelihood.

So why have I let Caine hustle his way into my heart?

This novel is a STANDALONE book. It will be part of a series of 3 standalone books, all stories will be related but will stand on its own.

About the Author

Mom, writer, bookworm, comic artist, and hopeless romantic. 

Author of The Ground Rules trilogy, the One Week series, the Riverstones series, the Orchard Heights series, and the You collection. 

ALL my books are standalone reads with the exception of The Ground Rules Book 2 and 3. Although the books are standalone reads, when reading a complete series, it is best to do so in chronological order to avoid spoilers. And if you're a comics fan, check out my comic book: A Romantic Life. :)

Connect:

https://x.com/royacarmen

https://arlcomics3.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/roya.carmen.2025/

https://www.instagram.com/royacarmen/

Spotlight: You Don’t Belong Here by D.M. Siciliano

Publication date: October 13th 2025

Genres: Adult, Horror, Paranormal, Suspense

Synopsis:

A girl who feels invisible finally faces her worst fear on her sixteenth birthday and hastily makes a dark deal.

An old man returns to the same place every year on the anniversary of his wife’s death, to have one last moonlit dance with her.

A woman’s health concerns are ignored, and it leads to global chaos.

A young woman goes home to bury her father and sell his house but finds that the home is no longer hers.

An old man with Alzheimer’s becomes increasingly lost in his own house, which seems to be doing its own forgetting.

Two young girls find a Ouija board, thinking they’re communicating with a deceased relative, but find something much more cunning.

A woman, grieving the loss of her baby, takes a trip to a remote cabin in Tahoe. Her worried sister goes after her and isn’t prepared for what she finds.

A woman’s drive through California’s winding roads leads her to a perilous and sinister discovery lurking in the woods.

A woman takes a job as a nanny for two troublesome kids, only to find that the children aren’t the problem.

Excerpt

Once she was gone, the house grew quiet, the house got dark, even in daylight, even with all the lights on. He had taken to turning all the lights on most of the time, hoping it might give him some clarity, some help in understanding and navigating the house he knew inside and out. He’d flip the lights on, and then the nurse would come and shut most of them off behind him once he left the room. It was as if the house’s memory was beginning to slip, just like the old man’s. Things seemed to make less sense to both the man and the house. What might happen if the house couldn’t remember what its curving walls gave way to? What if it forgot where a door should be? Or even where the entrance and exit of the labyrinth in the backyard must be? He was certain the forgetfulness wasn’t all on him. Yes, his mind was playing tricks on him, but there was more to it than that. He played a part in it for sure, but there was something about the house. It was part of him, after all. His blood, sweat, and tears had gone into building it. The house was as much a part of him as his daughter was, perhaps even more.

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About the Author

DM is a lover of all things creative. From the moment she could speak, growing up in Massachusetts, she had a passion for flair and drama, putting on concerts for anyone who was even remotely interested (and even for those who were not). A storyteller by nature, she first pursued her young dream of becoming a singing diva while living in Arizona. She soon found that stage life wasn't the only form of storytelling she craved, so she dropped the mic and picked up a pencil instead. She still hasn't given up on her diva-ness, and hopes her pencil stays as sharp as her tongue. 

A dark sense of humor and curiosity for haunted houses and things out of the ordinary led her down the path of completing her first novel, Inside. Several other projects are constantly floating around in her head and her laptop daily, and sometimes keeping her up much too late at night. Occasionally, those projects are so dark and twisted, she needs to leave a nightlight on. 

She now lives in Northern California with her two fluffy furbabies, Cezare and Michaleto.  

Connect:

https://www.dmsiciliano.com/

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/d-m-siciliano

https://www.facebook.com/DMSiciliano/

https://www.instagram.com/dmsiciliano/

You Don’t Belong Here Blitz