Blog Archives
Necessary Dilemma
Ghost of Kotoama follows a genetically altered warrior as a mysterious killer resembling his lost love draws him into a sprawling interplanetary conflict involving political intrigue, covert operations, ancient traditions, and brutal warfare. What is the most challenging aspect of writing a series?
For me, the most challenging part of writing a series is creating an ending that carries the same weight and complexity as the first book. When Wolf of Vanaheim ended, I think a lot of readers weren’t sure whether they liked or agreed with Baldur’s decision. They understood why he made it, but it landed in that morally complicated space of whether the ends justify the means.
So when I began writing Ghost of Kotoama, I knew that if I couldn’t reach that same kind of horrifying but necessary dilemma, the ending wouldn’t land the way Wolf of Vanaheim did. After several variations (and a few emotionally exhausted readers), I think the final scene in the hangar ultimately found its way into that same uncomfortable territory.
Why was dark humor important to the novel?
Having worked in stressful, sad, and sometimes violent environments, I learned how important dark humor can be. The expression, “If I didn’t laugh, I’d probably cry,” is completely true. Sometimes, being able to find humor in the worst situations is what carries us through them.
Baldur and his team spend a lot of the story simply trying to survive whatever comes next, and that humor becomes part of how they cope. If they ever actually slowed down long enough to process everything they’ve done and experienced, I’m not sure there’s enough therapy in the world to save them from themselves.
How did you develop the cultural identity of Kotoama?
I knew Kotoama was going to be the central location for Ghost of Kotoama before I had even finished the first book. The fusion of old feudal Japanese culture with advanced science fiction was irresistible to me. I drew inspiration from films like The Last Samurai, particularly the idea of tradition colliding with progress, and then placed that conflict inside a totalitarian society. I really enjoyed imagining the Akuma within that world and asking what it would take for a people to preserve their heritage, traditions, and identity when the society around them is actively trying to reshape or erase those things.
Does the ending point toward a larger conflict or a different phase of Baldur’s journey?
Definitely. The third book is going to see some of the relationships Baldur has built throughout the series finally begin to pay off as Vanaheim’s struggle continues.
From the beginning, I knew I wanted to start smaller, focusing primarily on Vanaheim, and then expand the story into new worlds with each book. I’ve already written about half of the first draft of book three, and there are some serious surprises ahead for fans of the series.
Leptis Magna will obviously play a major role, but there will also be new and unexpected environments to explore. I’m excited for readers to see where Baldur’s journey goes next.
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But the cost of victory was still being paid.
Five years after the war, Baldur still carries scars no one else can see. The fighting may be over, but peace feels fragile, shaped by political ambition, buried truths, and the ghosts of those who never made it home. When prisoners connected to the Red Sky conspiracy begin turning up brutally murdered, Baldur and his team are sent to investigate.
The killings point toward something impossible.
A figure tied to Kotoama. A distant empire known for its rigid order, political isolation, and carefully controlled image. As Baldur follows the trail deeper into Kotoaman affairs, he uncovers secrets capable of destabilizing governments and reigniting wars that never truly ended. Revolutions are already brewing in the shadows, powerful nations are maneuvering toward conflict, and the truth behind the murders may force Baldur to confront someone he believed was lost forever.
But Baldur carries dangers of his own.
Haunted by the atrocities of war and struggling against the monstrous changes spreading through his body, he finds himself drifting further from the man he once was. Every act of violence becomes easier. Every compromise feels more justified. And as the galaxy edges closer to another conflict, Baldur must decide whether he can still protect the people he loves without becoming the very thing they fear.
Ghost of Kotoama is the second installment in the Wolf of Vanaheim, a dark science-fiction epic about war, loyalty, political corruption, and the cost of surviving long after the fighting ends.
Ghost of Kotoama
J. Von Swan’s Ghost of Kotoama is a bruising science-fiction adventure built from political intrigue, mythic traditions, covert operations, and spectacular violence. Baldur, the genetically altered warrior known as the Wolf of Vanaheim, begins the novel guarding diplomats and ends up chasing a killer who looks impossibly like the woman whose death still governs his life. That mystery pulls him across prisons, palaces, hidden cities, and planetary battlefields while old enemies maneuver entire civilizations toward war. The scope is huge, but the story stays readable because every new crisis arrives through Baldur’s personal loyalties. Galactic politics matter because someone he loves will pay when he chooses badly.
Baldur is the book’s most compelling creation: funny, frightening, loyal, selfish, tender, and capable of appalling brutality. He’s constantly deciding which lives count, then living with the damage that arithmetic causes. His crew gives that struggle real emotional weight. Drat’s irreverence, Nastasya’s gentleness, Torvi and Eryu’s sibling shorthand, and Kyra’s weaponized charm create the warmth that keeps the novel’s darker material from becoming oppressive. Their banter feels lived-in, especially when jokes surface in the middle of disasters. The relationships also expose different versions of Baldur. He’s a commander, brother, lover, legend, and liability, sometimes within the same conversation.
The world has a vivid collision of aesthetics. Norse titles, funeral pyres, and warrior codes meet Kotoaman swordcraft, underground resistance culture, neural control systems, and silent android armies. Swan stages each location with sensory confidence, from the elegant menace of Alesian diplomacy to an underwater prison surrounded by tentacled sharks. The action is graphic and frequent, with set pieces that keep finding strange new pressure points, yet the most interesting violence is moral. Alliances are made with zealots, civilians become weapons, and liberation carries the temptation to seize the machinery of tyranny. The book’s sharpest question is how quickly a person fighting control can learn to enjoy controlling others.
There’s a pulpy fearlessness to the storytelling. Romance, espionage, horror, battlefield spectacle, dark comedy, and dynastic politics all compete for space, giving the novel an energetic, unpredictable personality. Its rapid escalations occasionally leave little room to absorb one loss before the next crisis arrives, though that velocity also reflects Baldur’s habit of outrunning grief through action. By the closing pages, the title has gathered several meanings: Syn’s memory, Jingu’s resemblance to her, the buried history of Kotoama, and every dead companion still directing Baldur’s choices. The ending resolves the immediate revolution while opening a wider conflict with real momentum. Ghost of Kotoama is a blood-soaked space opera with a wounded heart, where every victory leaves a scar, and every ghost still has a vote. I recommend Ghost of Kotoama to readers who enjoy expansive, fast-paced science fiction blending horror, brutal action, dark humor, and mythic worldbuilding.
Pages: 380 | ASIN : B0H2QVYWB7
Cobalt Lungs
Cobalt Lungs is an intimate post-apocalyptic novel built around a frightening idea: the air itself has become hostile. Cobalt spores have transformed ordinary rain, forests, and even breathing into sources of danger, leaving survivors dependent on masks, filtration systems, and tightly controlled shelters. B.A. Bellec gives this catastrophe a distinctly Canadian setting, moving through Langley, Vancouver, Vancouver Island, and Victoria while turning familiar places such as Rogers Arena into convincing monuments to a vanished way of life. The result is a world that feels both eerily recognizable and thoroughly changed.
At the center of the story is Maddy, a gifted pianist whose life narrows from music and family dreams to the daily demands of survival. Her relationship with music gives the novel its emotional rhythm, especially as songs become a way to hold grief, memory, and hope when ordinary language can’t carry enough. Ethan, a scientist driven to understand the cobalt organism, offers a compelling counterpoint. Where Maddy feels the world through sound and instinct, Ethan approaches it through systems, data, and control. Watching these two guarded people learn to understand one another gives the book its warmest and most human passages.
Bellec is especially good at finding tension in quiet details. A delayed breath, a damaged filter, a shift in air pressure, or a faint blue shimmer can become more unnerving than a loud action sequence. The novel’s different timelines gradually reveal how Maddy and Ethan were shaped by the collapse, while its larger conflict explores what happens when scientific ambition, corporate power, and the basic human need for safety become tangled together. Even as the scale expands, the story remains grounded in personal choices, family bonds, sacrifice, and the question of what makes survival worth pursuing.
There’s real tenderness beneath the novel’s cobalt haze. Cobalt Lungs is a story about making room for love, art, and a future after loss has changed the shape of everything. Its scientific mystery gives the plot momentum, its atmosphere gives the book a memorable identity, and its characters give the ending its emotional weight. Cobalt Lungs turns every breath into suspense and every song into proof that hope can survive even the most poisoned world, and it is a perfect read for fans of both romance and dystopian science fiction.
Pages: 456 | ASIN : B0H4DQWGB4
Aphantasia
Digital Gods is a blend of science fiction and a murder-mystery thriller centered on a cast of characters spanning the timeline from 925 AD to 2124. Where did the idea behind this novel come from?
The idea for Digital Gods came from me wrestling with a philosophical question rather than trying to write a science fiction novel.
I was exploring concepts like solipsism and simulation theory and began asking myself: if every conscious person were experiencing reality through a simulation, what would actually limit that simulation? We tend to assume it would have to run in one continuous timeline, but why? If it’s simply a constructed experience, the program could place one consciousness in Ancient Rome, another in the Middle Ages, and another in the year 2124, all at the same moment. The underlying programming would remain the same, but each person’s experience would be rendered differently according to the time period they inhabited.
That idea fascinated me.
For example, the novel opens in 925 AD with Sarah Yardlem, a young peasant who believes she is speaking with a spiritual leader. She has no reason to suspect anything unusual until she realizes he intends to kill her. But what if, beneath that experience, she isn’t actually speaking to a medieval priest at all? She could be interacting with someone who exists in 2024. The simulation would simply translate language, appearance, clothing, and surroundings so that each participant experiences a world that feels completely authentic.
Once I had that premise, the story exploded. It allowed me to weave together characters separated by more than a thousand years while asking a much larger question: if reality itself is the interface, how would anyone ever know what, or even when, is actually real?
Aphantasia plays a fascinating role in the book, becoming much more than a neurological condition. What inspired you to build such an important part of the story around it?
The inspiration came from something deeply personal; I have aphantasia myself. When I discovered that only about 2–3% of people are unable to voluntarily visualize images in their mind, I was fascinated. Like many people with aphantasia, I had assumed everyone experienced thought the same way I did. So I started asking friends and family to describe what happened when they imagined an apple or recalled a memory. It quickly became clear that I was the anomaly.
As Digital Gods evolved, I began asking a fictional question: if reality were a simulation, how might aphantasia fit into that world? I imagined that some participants in the simulation were genuine consciousnesses whose true selves existed beyond the system. If the simulation relied on memories, mental imagery, and internal experiences to keep those consciousnesses fully immersed, what would happen if someone couldn’t experience those things in the same way? Could they become more difficult to manipulate? Could they begin noticing gaps that others never would?
What began as curiosity about my own neurological condition eventually became one of the central philosophical questions of the book: what if the way we experience our own minds determines how deeply we are connected to reality, or to the illusion of it?
The Tree of Life serves as a recurring symbol throughout the novel. What does it represent within the mythology of the Ficcom universe?
The Tree of Life is probably the most important symbol in Digital Gods, and it’s one of my favourite aspects of the novel because it operates on multiple levels. Some readers will recognize one layer, others might recognize another, and I suspect there are connections that won’t become apparent until a second reading.
Within the mythology of the Ficcom universe, the Tree of Life is ultimately tied to the Codex itself, the system that sustains humanity. Without giving away too much, the Codex has a physical form, and its architecture naturally resembles an enormous tree. Human bodies rest below it while countless connections converge into a single trunk before branching outward into a vast network above. The imagery is intentional.
But I also wanted the symbol to resonate with much older traditions. In Norse mythology, Yggdrasil connects the underworld, the human world, and the heavens. That fascinated me because, in many ways, the Codex functions as a place between worlds. Humanity exists within it, suspended between where it came from and where it is going.
The biblical connection interested me just as much. I’ve always been intrigued by the story of Adam and Eve and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Why is knowledge forbidden? Why is the pursuit of understanding treated as humanity’s defining act of rebellion? Whether one interprets Genesis literally, symbolically, or philosophically, those questions have lingered with me for years.
In Digital Gods, I explore those questions through science fiction. What if myths aren’t arbitrary? What if they become part of the operating system of a civilization? If you were responsible for maintaining a simulated reality, and the greatest threat to that simulation was people discovering its true nature, wouldn’t you build stories that discouraged them from seeking forbidden knowledge? In that context, the fruit becomes more than a symbol of disobedience; it becomes a symbol of awakening.
For me, that’s what the Tree of Life ultimately represents. It is technology disguised as mythology, mythology disguised as history, and history disguised as truth. It sits at the intersection of science, religion, and philosophy, asking the same question that runs through the entire novel:
What happens when human beings gain knowledge they were never meant to have?
What is the next book you are working on, and when will it be available?
I’ve recently finished a screenplay called Minotaur, based on my previous novel, The Children of the Earth That Was. And now I am working on a second screenplay entitled: Trail Angel, Trail Demon, a horror with inspiration from Blair Witch cinematography.
I’ve created several outlines for a second book in the Digital Gods universe, but it is still in the idea-development stage.
Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | TikTok | Website | Amazon
“When technology, humanity, and divine wisdom collide, the fate of reality hangs in the balance.”
In Digital Gods, C.R. Endacott takes readers on a breathtaking journey where science fiction meets spirituality, and the human quest for knowledge collides with the unseen forces that shape our destiny. This gripping sci-fi thriller weaves together a multi-layered narrative of murder, mystery, and metaphysical discovery. Set in a near-future world where humanity’s survival is dictated by advanced technologies and the remnants of human resilience, Digital Gods delivers a potent blend of high-stakes action, philosophical depth, and unforgettable characters.
If you’ve ever wondered what lies beyond our technological grasp or pondered the true nature of life, this novel will captivate your imagination and keep you turning the pages late into the night.
The year is 2124 CE, and the remnants of Earth’s civilizations have consolidated under a singular global authority. Advances in artificial intelligence, interstellar travel, and biotechnology have transformed humanity into something unrecognizable. Yet, in this hyper-modern dystopia, humanity’s age-old struggles—power, love, survival—persist.
Amid the shiny skyscrapers and sleek autonomous vehicles, a sinister force emerges: a program known as the Ficcom_Creation_Link. This digital enigma connects everything and everyone, but at what cost? As whispers of its true purpose begin to surface, the line between reality and illusion blurs.
Digital Gods isn’t just a book; it’s an experience. It’s a thought-provoking, edge-of-your-seat journey into the unknown, blending genres and defying expectations. C.R. Endacott’s ability to craft a world that feels both eerily familiar and utterly foreign ensures this novel will find a place in the hearts of readers worldwide.
Whether you’re looking for your next sci-fi obsession or a story that challenges the way you see the world, Digital Gods is the book to read, share, and talk about.
Silver Lady: Travels Along the River Road
Silver Lady, by Susan E. Sage, is a literary work of magical realism with dystopian and protopian elements, following Cassie Navrone as she pilots a luxury houseboat downriver in the near future after the Great Collapse and the mysterious Vanishing. Art, people, places, and memory itself seem unstable, and Cassie’s journey with a small group of passengers becomes far more than a delivery job. It turns into a strange, searching voyage through grief, fear, beauty, connection, and the question of what is worth saving when the world no longer follows familiar rules.
What I appreciated most about the book is how personal it feels. Cassie’s voice has a warm, wandering quality, and I often felt as if I were sitting across from her while she tried to make sense of each odd bend in the river. The captain’s log format works well because it lets the story move between daily details and larger reflections without feeling stiff. A meal, a storm, a disappearing poem, a troubling town, a strange animal encounter, and a memory of love can all sit beside each other in the same current. That looseness may not appeal to readers who want a tight, plot-driven dystopian novel, but for me, it gave the book its emotional texture. It feels less like a race toward answers and more like drifting through a world where answers keep changing shape.
Sage makes some bold choices, especially in the way she blends social collapse with wonder. The book is candid about violence, isolation, illness, and cultural fear, but it does not sink into despair. That is where the protopian side of the story comes through. Cassie isn’t trying to save the world in some grand, heroic way. She’s simply refusing to look away. She notices people. She mourns what disappears. She keeps moving. I liked that the magical realism is not treated as a puzzle to be solved neatly. The sentience of the Silver Lady, the unstable towns, the vanishing art, and the river’s almost spiritual pull all ask the reader to accept mystery as part of the experience. The book is about living when the ground, or in this case, the water, refuses to stay still.
I would recommend Silver Lady to readers who enjoy reflective literary fiction, magical realism, and softer dystopian stories that care more about inner change than spectacle. It will especially appeal to those who like character-driven journeys, older protagonists, symbolic landscapes, and books that leave room for wonder. This is a thoughtful novel that stays engaging because its strange moments and underlying tension give the journey real weight.
Pages: 235 | ASIN : B0DH9CJGXM
Gravitido
Gravitido, by Simon Carr, is a wild comic sci-fi adventure about a human-made gravity-powered child who grows up on the scorching planet Titunal after surviving the destruction of Atlas Nine. Adopted by the wonderfully dry Dari and warm-hearted Jen, Gravitido begins life as a mystery, a baby who “doesn’t weigh anything, it’s like I’m holding nothing but air.” From there, the book builds a galaxy-sized story around identity, power, rebellion, and a lot of very silly conversations in very dangerous places.
The story follows Gravitido as he leaves home to discover what he was created for and ends up challenging Gidering, the AI ruler who has enslaved humanity. The setup has the shape of a chosen-one space epic, but the real charm is in how casually strange everything feels. Spaceships look like rocks, robots argue about handbooks and air fryers, and deadly missions are constantly interrupted by petty debates, awkward misunderstandings, and characters taking themselves just seriously enough to be funny.
Gravitido is an appealing lead because he’s powerful, vain, decent, and confused in a very human way. He wants purpose, but he also wants applause. He wants to save people, but he has to learn what freedom actually means after the fighting stops. That gives the book more emotional weight than its jokes first suggest, especially when Gravitido admits, “I’m a weapon, not a leader.” The line captures one of the book’s strongest ideas: being made for one purpose doesn’t have to decide who you become.
The supporting cast gives the novel much of its personality. Obfit brings bluster, loyalty, and unexpected leadership. Megabolt, the anxious ship, adds a great comic rhythm. Henry and Francis are standout robot characters, turning even guard duty into a stream of absurd workplace banter. Gidering, meanwhile, works well as both a galactic threat and a warped mirror of the humans who created her. The book’s comedy keeps the tone light, but underneath it, there’s a sharp interest in domination, fear, prejudice, and what happens when a civilization builds tools to do its worst thinking for it.
Gravitido feels like a big-hearted space comedy with a rebellious streak. It’s packed with oddball worldbuilding, fast dialogue, slapstick action, and enough sincerity to make Gravitido’s journey matter. The book is best when it lets cosmic stakes sit right beside ridiculous arguments, because that’s where its personality shines. It’s a story about a manufactured hero finding his own place in the universe, then making room for everyone else to dance the swishy wishy with him.
Pages: 388 | ASIN : B0GX32PG1M
Love Letter to Classic Sci-Fi
Novalunosis centers around a mismatched group of fugitives, scientists, pirates, and assassins as they uncover a sealed dome city ruled by a controlling lord. Where did the idea for this novel come from?
My writing style has always been rooted more in storytelling than anything else, and I think that comes from years of playing RPGs and running campaigns. Those experiences helped me develop my voice as a writer. The characters, their unique personalities, the worlds, and many of the ideas in the story were inspired by adventures and stories I’ve created over the years. Watching how different “players” interacted with characters, situations, and moral choices really helped shape the direction of the story and gave the world a sense of life and unpredictability.
Seeing all of those ideas finally come to life on the page has been an incredible journey. I’ve always loved science fiction and the sense of wonder, adventure, and imagination that comes with space operas. Growing up in the ‘90s, stories like that captured my imagination in a huge way, and they stayed with me throughout my life.
What drew you to writing a space opera with such a strong found-family core?
More than anything, the thing I value most in storytelling is the characters and the emotional connection you build with them. For me, the heart of any great adventure isn’t just the action or the worldbuilding — it’s the crew, the friendships, the conflicts, and the moments that make you genuinely care about the people involved. Because of that, this story really began with the characters first, and the universe was built around them.
This book is both a love letter to classic sci-fi and space operas and a celebration of the creativity and camaraderie that storytelling can create. My hope is that younger readers can fall in love with the genre the same way I did when I was growing up — getting lost in strange worlds, unforgettable characters, and adventures that make you dream a little bigger.
Were there aspects of the universe you developed that didn’t make it into the final book?
This is a great question! Honestly, a lot of it comes down to the fact that there was originally far more detail and lore written into the story, but much of it was ultimately cut in order to better fit the YA audience I was aiming for, rather than pushing too far into Adult sci-fi territory. There were entire sections of worldbuilding, history, and deeper explanations about the galaxy that I personally loved as both a writer and a reader, but in the end, some of it slowed the pacing or pulled focus away from the core story and characters.
That said, those ideas and details are absolutely still there behind the scenes, and I fully plan to explore them more in future books. My goal is for this to become a trilogy, and with the next installment, I really want to expand beyond a single planet and open up the galaxy in a much bigger way. I’m excited to dive deeper into the lore, different worlds, cultures, factions, and mysteries that only get hinted at in the first book. I want the universe to feel larger, stranger, and more alive with each entry, bringing an even greater sense of wonder, adventure, and discovery as the story continues.
What do you hope readers feel after finishing Novalunosis?
What I hope readers feel after finishing Novalunosis is a renewed passion and love for the sci-fi genre. We live in a world where people are constantly overwhelmed, stressed, and looking for even a small escape from everyday life. I wanted this story to feel adventurous, exciting, mysterious, and full of wonder, the kind of experience that reminds readers why science fiction can be so special. To me, sci-fi has always been about more than futuristic worlds and technology. It is about imagination, exploration, and the feeling that anything is possible. I especially hope younger readers and the next generation can connect with that sense of discovery and excitement.
At the same time, I wanted Novalunosis to contain deeper themes beneath the adventure. A lot of the ideas explored in the story are reflections of real-world struggles, emotions, and conflicts that people experience every day. Through the characters, their choices, and the world they inhabit, I hope readers can make connections to their own lives and the world around them. Sometimes it is easier for people to understand difficult truths, emotions, or perspectives when they see them through the eyes of fictional characters rather than confronting them directly in reality.
Ultimately, I hope readers walk away feeling entertained and inspired, but also thoughtful, carrying some of the book’s themes, questions, and emotions with them long after they finish the final page.
Author Links: GoodReads | Website | Amazon
Fiercely Independent People
No Home Without You follows a woman living in solitude with her cats after an asteroid struck Earth, who encounters a man who shows up at her refuge with an injured ankle, leading to feelings she wasn’t expecting. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The inspiration for the story was to continue the Love and Survival series with two people who had opposite experiences in the post-apocalyptic world. Cam grew up in the shelter of xTerra, the bunker complex in South Dakota. His family were preppers who had been there before the asteroid. Lissa had lived in the outside world, but grew frustrated with her lonely existence at a refugee center. Both were intended to be quite different from the couples in the previous two books (The Edge of Life: Love and Survival During the Apocalypse and Aftermath: Into the Unknown).
I wanted to have a love story between two fiercely independent people who weren’t used to relying on anyone else. Cam comes from a community but feels apart from it. Lissa has chosen to be alone for six years before Cam arrives.
I also wanted the political aspects and questions about refugees and the right to have safety to simmer throughout the story. Several characters from earlier in the series continue, even if the main characters, Cam and Lissa, are new.
xTerra represents safety, but also control and exclusion. What drew you to that kind of community dynamic?
The refugees that flooded xTerra immediately after the asteroid would have changed the quiet prepper community that lived there already. There were hints of this in The Edge of Life (Book 1). It continued when we see xTerra when Robin and Kory arrive in Aftermath (Book 2), so No Home Without You was the logical next step.
I can see many of the original inhabitants feeling like they’d been invaded or taken over, as this influx of people would have changed their community. When resources are scarce, including safety, those who have it would be reluctant to share.
Cam’s mother, the mayor, represents those people. She was modeled on someone I know in a position of power who seemed kind and positive on the outside, but was actually rage-filled, insecure, and petty. I saw through her from the beginning, and over time, my co-workers saw the real her, too. She reminded me of Dolores Umbridge from Harry Potter, which came up in the story.
The romance grows from trust and shared labor rather than instant attraction. Was that always your intention, and how do you define love in a world where survival is the first priority?
From the beginning, I wanted Cam and Lissa to build trust, friendship, and attraction before it became about love. Neither of them trusted easily and had been self-contained for years, not admitting that they were lonely or needed anyone else. It didn’t seem realistic to have them open to love and instant attraction in a world where everything is hard-won.
In a world where survival is the priority, love can only occur if you trust someone to have your back and work with you to secure survival. Neither Cam nor Lissa is someone who is casual about anything. Their lives are planned and deliberate, and I felt like love would develop this way, too.
Where do you see your characters after the book ends?
After the book ends, I see my characters living out their lives together, choosing to work together to survive. They’ll live in xTerra for the winters and on their own the rest of the year.
I hope No Home Without You ties up the Slains and xTerra arc with the three books in this series. While there are many spin-off tales I plan to write, the community of xTerra is safe for now. I imagine them rebuilding community and society, mostly from within their walls, while people like Cam and Lissa choose to come and go, living their lives with a degree of independence and self-sufficiency.
Author Links: GoodReads | Lena Gibson | Facebook | Website | Amazon
When Cam defies orders to help a desperate refugee family, his mother, the mayor, is ousted. She disowns him, calling him a traitor. To let her hurtful words settle, Cam leaves on an extended trip.
Solitary for six years, Lissa lives in an abandoned mansion in Nebraska. Fiercely independent, she trusts no one. But one day, spying on a hunting party, she encounters Cam. Fascinated, she watches him, unable to get him off her mind. Injured in an early snowstorm, Cam stumbles upon her refuge. They strike up a friendship, but despite their mutual attraction, Lissa keeps him at arm’s length. After his ankle heals, he returns to xTerra. Alone.
When Lissa overhears a plan threatening xTerra, she embarks on a harrowing journey, risking everything to protect the man she’s come to love. If she and Cam can save xTerra and open their hearts, they may find a home together.
Don’t miss No Home Without You, not just another post-apocalyptic romance, as Cam and Lissa battle for love and survival.
