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Wednesday, July 15, 2026

Have a look at The Quest for the Crown of Thorns by Cynthia Ripley Miller #History #Mystery #Romance @CRipleyMiller @cathiedunn


The Quest for the Crown of Thorns
By Cynthia Ripley Miller

AD 454. Three years after the Roman victory over Attila the Hun at Catalaunum, Arria Felix and Garic the Frank are married and enjoying life on Garic’s farm in northern Gaul (France). Their happy life is interrupted when a cryptic message arrives from Arria’s father, the esteemed Senator Felix, calling them to Rome. At Arria’s insistence, but against Garic’s better judgment, they leave at once.

On their arrival at Villa Solis, they are confronted with a brutal murder and a dangerous mission. The fate of a profound and sacred object—Christ’s Crown of Thorns—rests in their hands. They must carry the holy relic to the safety of Constantinople, away from a corrupt emperor and old enemies determined to steal it for their own gain. But a greater force arises against them—a secret cult who will commit any atrocity to capture the Crown. All the while, the gruesome murder and the conspiracy behind it haunt Arria’s thoughts.  

Arria and Garic’s marital bonds are tested but forged as they partner together to fulfill one of history’s most challenging missions, The Quest for the Crown of Thorns.


Pages: 278
Genre: Romantic Historical Mystery

Grab a copy HERE!



Cynthia Ripley Miller is a first-generation Italian-American writer with a love for history, languages, and books. She has lived in Europe and traveled worldwide, holds two degrees, and taught history and English. Her short fiction has appeared in the anthology Summer Tapestry, at Orchard Press Mysteries.com, and The Scriptor.

She is a Chanticleer International Chatelaine Award finalist with awards from Circle of Books: Rings of Honor and The Coffee Pot Book Club. She has reviewed for UNRV Roman History, and blogs at Historical Happenings and Oddities: A Distant Focus and on her website, www.cynthiaripleymiller.com.

Cynthia is the author of On the Edge of Sunrise, The Quest for the Crown of Thorns, and A Sword Among Ravens, books 1-3 in her Long-Hair Saga series set in Late Ancient Rome, France, and Jerusalem.

Cynthia lives outside of Chicago with her family and a cute but bossy cat.

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Tuesday, July 14, 2026

Read an excerpt from The Notorious Murder of Ellar Day by Marcy S. Wood #Western #HistoricalFiction @RABTBookTours


The Notorious Murder of Ellar Day
By Marcy S. Wood

Seventeen-year-old Ellar Day is drowning in societal judgment. Following a shotgun wedding and an equally swift divorce from an unfaithful husband, she is under intense pressure from her demanding father to find a respectable provider and secure her infant son’s future. Instead, she falls for Joe Dixon, a former Buffalo Soldier. Because of the era's deep racial prejudices, their passionate affair is strictly forbidden, forcing them to steal quiet moments in back alleys and mule barns.

Meanwhile, her father champions Mark Atkins, a local editor who offers Ellar financial security and a white-picket homestead. But beneath Mark’s polished facade lies a dark, volatile past. When a stormy night with Joe leaves Ellar facing a potential pregnancy, the stakes turn deadly. Knowing a mixed-race child means social ruin for her and a hangman’s noose for Joe, she sacrifices her happiness and accepts Mark’s marriage proposal to save the man she loves.

Yet, safety is an illusion. Facing financial ruin and discovering Ellar's betrayal, Mark unleashes a brutal act of vengeance. When Ellar is fatally shot down a long hotel corridor, Joe is immediately accused of the crime. Orchestrating a ruthless brand of Wild West justice, Joe is burned alive in his jail cell by a lawless vigilante mob.


Reviews for The Notorious Murder of Ellar Day

"The Notorious Murder of Ellar Day is an untold story that is as compelling as it is timely and impactful.

~Penny Haw, author of The Invincible Miss Cust and The Woman and Her Stars.

"There is no easy or clear path for Ellar. Doing the right thing feels wrong and doing what feels right is forbidden." 

~Kimberly Burns, author of The Mrs. Tabor and The Redemption of Mattie Silks

"The political and social backdrop of a bustling Colorado mining town gives authentic historical flavor to this captivating debut novel." 

~Sherry Skye Stuart, author of Forgotten Female Felons Book One.

"Five stars for Marcy S. Wood's stunning debut! This beautiful reimagining of history portrays the delicate intersection of romantic tragedy and racial injustice with the reverence it deserves."

 ~Jennifer Wyrick, former owner of the Beaumont Hotel.


Genres: Literary Western Fiction
Pages: 388

 

Grab a copy HERE!


EXCERPT

I sped down the stairs and out the door. The hag’s vicious laugh haunted my ears. Across the street stood Joe, speaking with the men with whom he played cards. They joked and smoked cigarettes. Surely they knew and were laughing at me. They fell silent as I dashed past. I tossed my mask.

“Missus Woodcock?” he said.

I ran on, too confused to orient myself.

“Excuse me,” I heard him say. To me? To his friends? I continued, hell-bent on escaping my dreadful embarrassment. I saw Mr. Begole’s store was closed up tight with the kerosene streetlights reflected in its windows, and the black night everywhere else. Kicking mud behind me, I rushed toward the company housing.

When I got to my tent, I hurled Chas’s clothes from the top drawer. I stomped them into the muck and mire of my life. It dawned on me that my wicked husband spent my money on whores and sodomites. I spat rancid bile from my mouth, and it landed just shy of Joseph W. Dixon’s feet.

“You all right?” He held my mask, now tarnished with mud.

I stared at him, wishing to scream. Instead, I kept my voice low and even. I gnashed my teeth.

“What does the W stand for?” I asked.

“What?”

“The W stands for What?”

“What are you asking me?”

“Your middle name?” He looked confused. “The W in your middle name. You’re Joseph W. Dixon, right? Oh, never mind. Were you aware of my husband—of his, all of this—when you met me today?” I was angry and addled, but my run through the chilly night had cleared my senses.

“I don’t find it my place to judge a man’s proclivities.”

 

 

Marcy S. Wood, MA in Creative Professional Writing, lives in the mountains of Ouray, CO. She writes at the end of her family’s dining table with a pup at her feet and a cat on her lap.

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RABT Book Tours & PR

Thursday, July 9, 2026

Have a look at Kindle the Light of Liberty by Mirta Ines Trupp #HistoricalFiction #JewishHistoricalRomance #AmericanRevolutionaryWar #Austenesque #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @cathiedunn


Kindle the Light of Liberty
By Mirta Ines Trupp

They had no voice. They held no power. Yet they helped decide the fate of a nation.

In the bustling streets of Philadelphia, Rose Wachsman has no time for the rigid expectations of society—and even less for the infuriatingly reserved Nathan Hirsch. She is a woman of the hearth, sharp-witted and fiercely loyal to the cause of liberty; he is a man of business and tradition, seemingly more concerned with ledgers than the fires of revolution.

But as the war moves from a tradesman's chandlery to the parlors of the elite, Rose and Nathan find themselves forced into a dangerous game of intelligence and alliance. In a world that would rather forget their names, they must overcome their own prejudices to discover that their greatest adversary— might be their only hope.


Pages: 211
Genre: Jewish Historical Romance

Grab a copy HERE!
This novel is free to read with #KindleUnlimited subscription.

Mirta is a second-generation Argentine; she was born in Buenos Aires in 1962 and immigrated to the United States that same year. Because of the unique fringe benefits provided by her father’s employer—Pan American Airlines—she returned to her native country frequently – growing up with "un pie acá y un pie allá" (with one foot here and one foot there). 

Her fascination with Jewish history and genealogy, coupled with an obsession with historical period drama, has inspired Mirta to create unique and enlightening novels. She has been a guest speaker for book clubs, sisterhood events, genealogy societies, and philanthropic organizations. Sharing Jewish historical fiction has become her passion.

Besides being an avid novel reader, she has had a lifelong love for choral music and is a devoted Beatles fan. Follow Mirta on Amazon, Goodreads, Instagram, and BookBub, or stop by her blog: www.mirtainestruppauthor.com.

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Wednesday, July 8, 2026

Have a look at Storms of Crick Road Bridge by David G Kerr #Crime #Thriller #CosyMystery @RABTBookTours


Storms of Crick Road Bridge
By David G Kerr

 

Eden Valley is a quiet town in northwestern Pennsylvania still healing from a dark chapter in its history. Two years ago, the community was shaken by a kidnapping and a series of murders. Tom Stallings, the celebrated town hero, solved the crimes and identified the evil demon responsible. In an effort to revitalize the town, Tom's son, Josh, has purchased the town's orchard, naming it The Stallings Orchard at Crick Road Bridge.

However, Tom is soon informed by the local sheriff that he and his family are the targets of a threatening letter, mysteriously signed "The Avenger." The unknown author accuses Tom and Josh of being land-grabbers with blood on their hands and vows to seek revenge.

Against this tense backdrop, three individuals-each driven by their own pain and misguided sense of justice-embark on separate journeys of revenge. While the first merely seeks to resolve personal grievances and jealousy through minor acts of vandalism, the other two harbor far more sinister intentions, representing both physical and metaphorical storms on a path of chaos and destruction.


Genre: Crime Thriller
Pages: 262

Grab a copy HERE!


 

 David Kerr grew up in the small, rural community of Enon Valley, Pennsylvania, in the '50s and '60s where the main source of employment was farming or working in the steel mill industry. Surrounded by families who struggled to maintain their middle- class lifestyle and hold tightly to the American values of God, family, and country, little did he realize that these people and places would become the inspiration for his novels.

A graduate of Georgia Southern University, Kerr served as an English teacher and school administrator for forty-four years. Following his retirement, he wrote and published two mystery novels, Secrets of Crick Road Bridge and Storms of Crick Road Bridge.

Today, he and his wife, Lois, live in Woodstock, Georgia, where they enjoy being close to their daughter Paige, son-in-law, Chris, and grandsons, Banks and Ford


RABT Book Tours & PR

Read an excerpt from The Making of Marigold McGrath by Carrie Hayes #HistoricalFiction #WartimeFiction #WomenInHistory #ReaderReach #TheCoffeePotBookClub #YardeBookPromotions #BlogTour @cathiedunn @maryanneyarde


The Making of Marigold McGrath
By Carrie Hayes

New York City, 1937. Seventeen-year-old Marigold McGrath is coming undone.

Her mother is dead. Her father is drawn to dangerous politics. The only place she feels joy is behind a camera — where she can frame the world on her own terms.

After a series of her own missteps, she reinvents herself in London: mentored by a celebrated émigré photographer, photographing Kindertransport children, working alongside Edward R. Murrow. She falls in love with Joop, a charming Dutch student, and shrugs off the war gathering around her.

Then the Blitz begins.

Joop vanishes into the Dutch Resistance. And Marigold — who has always preferred to photograph the world as she wishes it were — must finally decide what kind of woman, and what kind of witness, she is willing to become.

A sweeping WWII coming-of-age novel set in wartime London.

For readers of Kristin Hannah, Kate Quinn, and SL Beaumont's The War Photographers



Praise:

"I read a lot of historical novels ... this one was one of my favorites. From the characters to the setting to the actions depicted I thoroughly enjoyed the journey—I really didn’t want it to end!" 
~ Netgalley Review 5*



"The Making of Marigold McGrath by Carrie Hayes is the tale of a well to do American seventeen year old sent to Europe just prior to World War II. The book is exquisitely written with a well paced dialogue. The characters are well formed and interesting. Sprinkled throughout the book are bits from news outlets that help set the larger context for the reader - they are well timed and helpful. Great read, well worth it!" 
~ Goodreads Review 5*



"The Making of Marigold McGrath explores a rarely examined aspect of WWII: the complex journeys to maturity of young adults in war-torn Europe as they seek human connection and meaning. Marigold finds both, using her skills as a photographer to document the stories of refugee children. With gobs of historical references and vivid imagery, interlaced with intrigue and romance, The Making of Marigold McGrath is a great read!" 
~ Goodreads Review 5*


Pages: 332
Genre:  Historical fiction

Grab a copy HERE!
This novel is free to read with #KindleUnlimited subscription.


EXCERPT

“Mr. Murrow?”

“Yes Marigold.” 

“Before I came here, I worked for a relief agency at Woburn House. Uh, in light of the news last week, I was hoping sir, you might give me this Friday.” 

Ed Murrow leant forward and put out his cigarette. “What do you have in mind?” 

“I’d like to photograph the children’s arrival, sir. I could photograph it, sir.” 

He studied her for a moment and then smiled. “We work in radio, Marigold. Radio.” 

Marigold straightened her back. “Well, this arrival is only the first. I don’t know if people understand how dire things are for those kids.” 

Murrow nodded. “Go on, you’re doing great.” 

She realized he was waiting for her to make her case. 

Marigold added, “I’ve been given the chance to work with a proper photographer who’s covering it, and um—” 

“Yes?” 

Her hands started sweating something fierce. She wiped them on her skirt. 

“If I can photograph it, then the next time, we can figure out how you can describe it, easily, on the broadcast. You know, because,” She swallowed, “this is history, sir.” 


There were two photographers, Kurt and Gertie, who had worked with Picture Post before. Like Marek, they had been refugees and now they were British. Marigold’s job was to assist them both. There were flash bulbs, tripods, countless rolls of film and various lenses. The children’s ferry would arrive at Harwich, two hours from London. From Harwich they’d make their way to Dovercourt Bay Holiday Camp.

The day was bitterly cold. Marigold looked out the window. The landscape was covered in frost. “I thought holiday camps were only used in summer.” 

“They are,” Kurt answered. 

“Does that mean they don’t have heating?”

Gertie said, “Apparently, it’s the best the authorities can do. One can only hope they’ll be hosted before the taps start freezing.” Mindful of the others around them, Kurt and Gertie spoke in English. Marigold, for fear of getting in their way, preferred not to speak at all. 

Harwich was mobbed by the press. As the children disembarked, cameras began clicking and reporters shouted questions. 

Kurt worked with two Leicas, which were just like Marigold’s. “Stay close, stay close, Marigold,” he said. 

Obediently, she loaded one camera, and handed it to him, when the other ran out of film. 

Gertie, for her part, had planted herself in the arrivals lounge, her camera on a tripod, near some seats by a cloak room. After a while, Kurt said, “Go check on Gertie, see if she needs anything.” 

Marigold worked her way through the crowd. Some of the girls had gathered outside the toilets. They glanced at her. They were all nearly her age. She might have seen them ice skating at Central Park. Her heart beating, she said, “Hallo! Willkommen in England!” 

This was met with silence. Then suddenly, the girls spoke at once, some in English that was much better than her German as well as some who didn’t speak English at all. But a fatigued adrenalin washed over them, and the girls nattered about the trip, about boys, about fears and hopes. 

One said, “I hope my family will speak some German.”  

Another girl said, “The one I’m going to doesn’t have any other children.” 

“Do you think English boys are good looking?” Yet another posed this question as she studied the journalists and photographers. 

“My parents will come for me as soon as this is over.” The first one said. “We were supposed to go to America, but we couldn’t get visas. My father will bring my grandparents next month, I think.” 

Marigold answered as many questions as she could and glanced over her shoulder. Gertie’s camera was trained onto a little girl with long braids, who sat on a step holding a doll. Marigold watched Gertie say something to the girl. Whatever it was, it caused the faintest traces of a smile to appear and Gertie took the shot. 

At Dovercourt Holiday Camp, those who had families ready to host them were quickly identified and the others watched them leave. By teatime, the excitement began to wind down and the press had thinned out. 

As Gertie and Kurt began putting away their equipment, Marigold gave her address to a pair of the older girls. “Write to me. When you come to London, we’ll get together.” 

Someone took Marigold’s arm and led her away. “How could you say that?” It was Miss Breen. 

Marigold blushed. “Oh! Hello, I didn’t know you were here.” 

“These girls have nothing.” Miss Breen hissed, “They have no resources. How do you think anyone’s going to be getting to London?” 

“I was just—” 

“You give them false hopes that everything will be, as you Americans so like to say, Hunky Dory, and it’s not. For some of them the nightmare’s just beginning.” 

Kurt caught Marigold’s eye and waved her over, “Shall we?” 

On the train ride back, she felt a pain as if she’d actually hurt those girls, injuring them with her ignorance. Gertie and Kurt were whispering in German. Marigold couldn’t understand what they were saying, but Miss Breen was right. One could only imagine what would happen to those children. She pretended to sleep to keep any tears from escaping. So many more were still abroad and desperately needed to leave.


Carrie’s first two novels, Naked Truth or Equality and Well Dressed Lies, follow the lives of the iconoclastic suffragist sisters, Victoria Woodhull and Tennessee Claflin.

Carrie lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in a rambling Victorian house just outside of New York City. 

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Monday, July 6, 2026

Read an excerpt from The Spirit of the Times by Justin Newland #HistoricalFiction #SpeculativeFiction #HistoricalFantasy #ReaderReach #TheCoffeePotBookClub #YardeBookPromotions @cathiedunn @maryanneyarde


The Spirit of the Times
 By Justin Newland

From a land of milk,

And a Road of Silk,

To a ring of roses,

And a dance of posies,

Comes the tale of the spirit of the times! 

In fourteenth-century Central Asia, Karia is a young woman living under the yoke of Mongol occupation. But she’s different. She’s a fighter with supernatural powers. She could use them to keep the Black Plague at bay and solve the mystery of the purple skies at dawn – if only she could overcome her self-doubt. 

Travelling in caravans on the Silk Road, she faces dangers seen and unseen – from sandstorms and slave traders to the desert djinn and folk who believe she’s a witch. She fears losing Abi, her little cousin, who’s fascinated by roses and the dance of the Whirling Dervishes of Bukhara.

When Karia falls in love with an English sailor fleeing the Knights Hospitaller, they sail to England with Abi to unravel the meaning of the purple skies, a dance, a posy tree, and a ring of roses.

The Spirit of the Times is part history, part fiction and part speculation: on the origin of disease; the power of innocence; the unfortunate aspects of custom and dogma; and humanity’s ability to respond to the governing influence or spirit of the times.


Pages: 264
Genre: Historical Fiction

Grab a copy HERE!

EXCERPT

The Tamga


Balasagun

The morning of the 26th of July 1338


Overnight, Karia had a vivid, compelling dream in which she envisioned a strange two-pronged fork that floated over a stretch of water. From one side of the prongs, there grew another lance. Next to the fork on the left was a crescent shape. It drifted above the river towards the Burana Tower and hovered with menace over the walls of Balasagun. It emanated a thick, suffocating presence. Her breath became shallow. Gasping for breath, she woke up, and the fork and crescent sign disappeared. 

Outside, the dawn was shot with a purple haze, even more vibrant than the previous days. Where had she seen that colour before? When she was a child, she’d attended a tribal audience with the visiting Mongol potentate, whose robe was that purple colour. Forearms planted firmly on the armrests, he sat there on a dais, glaring down with a tyrannical eye on all and sundry. She remembered the rustle of the fabric, which her mother had said was made of silk. 

That didn’t help her village, though, which suffered under the pestilence. As more people died, they sewed up the entrances to their gers, preventing anyone from entering and the evil spirits from leaving.

Karia rushed into Balasagun, where she found Luli and Muzaffar.

“How has she been?” Karia asked, cradling the little babe.

“She’s been no trouble,” Luli said. “She feeds easily, and her strong suckling has been a boon. My baby is not a good eater and, to be honest, suckling Abi has helped my own.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Karia said.

“But we have news,” Muzaffar said. “We’re leaving at dawn tomorrow.” 

“That’s so soon. You said that you’d rest here for several days.”

“Yes, I know,” Muzaffar said. “That was before the pestilence ravaged your village. We need to leave before we succumb to it.” 

“What about Abi? What can I do with her?” Karia asked.

“If you like, we can take her with us,” Luli said.

“Not unless I come as well. I can’t be separated from her,” Karia said. 

“What with the pestilence, half of Balasagun wants to join the caravan. I’m sorry, times are hard, and we have room for paying passengers only,” Muzaffar explained.

Indecision gripped Karia by the throat. Despite the pestilence, she didn’t want to leave her village, though she had to keep her promise to Bačaq. This moment felt like life or death, and she had to get it right. Should she insist and leave behind the life she loved? Or should she stay and fight the pestilence with her clan? But if she did, she might not find another wet nurse. She couldn’t condemn Abi to die for want of a mother’s milk.

“Please, you must take me with you.”

“You have nothing we need,” Muzaffar said. “If you were a man, it would be different. A man can work, scout, collect dung, feed the animals, find water, build fires, prepare food and cook in the kitchen.” 

“I can do all that.”

“Mmm, I don’t know if you can.”

“What do you want from me then?”

“If you can’t work your passage, you can pay for it. Have you any silver or gold coins, jewels or precious stones, silk or atlas fabric?” Muzaffar said. 

“No, I wish I did, though.”

“Or anything of value?”

“No, but I see the future. When my sister conceived, I knew it was going to be a girl. That’s little Abi here. The shaman said she would have a boy.”

“Well, that’s interesting. What else have you seen in the future?” Luli asked. 

“I don’t know if this means anything, but last night I had a dream. I saw a strange sign. It drifted above a stretch of water, which looked like Lake Issyk Kul, and then hovered over the Burana Tower and into Balasagun. It came with a feeling of oppression and constriction. I nearly suffocated.”

“What did this sign look like?” Luli wanted to know.  

“It had two parts, both in red. On the left, it had a crescent moon; on the right, a two-pronged fork with a small round handle above it. Another strand emerged from the base of the right-hand fork, making it into a ‘V’ shape.”

“Oh. That’s a tamga, a shield, or an insignia.” Muzaffar said. “The riders of the Yam, the Mongol pony express, have the one you described emblazoned on their saddles.”

“I thought I’d seen it somewhere before,” Karia murmured. 

“It’s marked on royal proclamations and those associated with the Mongol crown,” Muzaffar said. “What you described is the tamga of Öz Beg, the Khan of the Golden Horde. He rules the land to the west of here.”

“Luli, your face – you’ve gone white as the snow. What have I said?” Karia asked. 

“I think your dream is prescient,” Luli said, her voice trembling with fear. “The tamga arose in the south, headed along the lake before entering Balasagun. Your dream is a warning.” 

“Of what?” Karia asked. 



Justin Newland's novels represent an innovative blend of genres, from historical adventure to supernatural thriller and magical realism. 
Undeterred by the award of a doctorate in mathematics from Imperial College, London, he conceived his debut novel, The Genes of Isis (Matador, 2018), an epic fantasy set under Ancient Egyptian skies. Next came The Old Dragon’s Head (Matador, 2018), set in Ming Dynasty China in the shadows of the Great Wall.

The Coronation (Matador, 2019) features the Great Enlightenment and speculates on the genesis of the most important event in the modern world – the Industrial Revolution. The Abdication (Matador, 2021) is a mystery thriller in which a young woman confronts her faith in a higher purpose and what it means to abdicate that faith.

At this point in his writing career, after four self-published books, Justin was offered a part-funded contract with the Book Guild.
The Mark of the Salamander (Book Guild, 2023) is the first in a two-book ‘The Island of Angels’ series. It tells the epic tale of England’s coming of age during the Elizabethan era. The second in the series, The Midnight of Eights (Book Guild, 2024), charts the uncanny coincidences of time and tide that culminated in the repulse of the Spanish Armada.

His latest novel, The Spirit of the Times (Matador, 2026), is to be published in July. It tells the story of a young Kyrgyz woman’s journey westwards along the Silk Road. With purple skies at dawn, and a supporting cast of Genghis Khan, the Black Plague, a perplexing rhyme, a ring of roses, it explores the greatest mystery of all – the spirit of the times. 

Justin’s enduring passion is to explore the origins of our current time. This prompted a broad research into what we’ve inherited from history – encompassing Egypt, China, Prussia and Tudor England.

He also writes entertaining talks which he gives to the WI, U3A, Probus, Rotary and local historical associations. Please visit his website for a current list of the talks.

Alongside the talks, Justin promotes his work with regular book signings at TG Jones (ex. WH Smith) high street stores, selling over 3,500 books since 2019. He has sponsored over 40 UK and US blog tours, given frequent radio interviews and penned many guest posts.

His current book signing motto is: Enjoy, Imagine, Discover.
As a member of the Society of Authors, he has Public and Products Liability Insurance.

Born in Essex, England, three days before the end of 1953, he lives with his lady in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.


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Friday, July 3, 2026

Read an excerpt from Unbelonging by David J. Jepsen #HistoricalFiction #LiteraryFiction #PacificNorthwest #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @cathiedunn


Unbelonging
By David J. Jepsen

Seattle, 1945. The war is ending-but for many, the hardest battles are just beginning.

In a city transformed by global conflict, four families struggle to find their place amid rising tensions, buried prejudice, and shifting identities. Victory overseas has brought hope, but at home, fear, suspicion, and inequality continue to shape everyday life.

A female defense worker, newly awakened to injustice, risks everything as she steps into the dangerous world of labor activism-threatening not only her future, but the safety of those she loves. A decorated Black war hero returns home expecting honor and opportunity, only to face a different kind of battlefield, where racism and exclusion deny him the freedoms he fought to defend. A Japanese American, released from internment, discovers that the end of war does not mean the end of hatred, and that rebuilding a life in a community that no longer trusts him may be the greatest challenge of all. A hopeful British war bride arrives chasing the promise of a new beginning, only to learn that the American dream is complicated, fragile, and not equally shared.

As labor strikes ripple through the city, racial tensions simmer, and the first shadows of Cold War hysteria begin to take hold, Seattle reveals itself as a place both beautiful and deeply divided. Old prejudices harden even as new voices rise, demanding change.

This powerful, emotionally charged novel strips away the myth of an open and enlightened city, exposing the human cost of exclusion and the quiet courage of those who refuse to accept it.

A sweeping story of resilience, identity, and the search for belonging-welcome to the City on the Sound, where no one is quite sure where they belong.


Praise:

“Just a great read and anyone who picks it up is guaranteed to learn a thing or two: from Guadalcanal to local labor disputes.”

~ Mr. K, Amazon 5* review


Pages: 270
Genre: Literary Historical Fiction

Grab a copy HERE!

EXCERPT

Canwell looked down at today’s star witness, J.B. Matthews. He was former director of research for the House Un-American Activities Committee, or Dies Committee, in Washington. D.C. Its goal was to expose an alarming growth of a Communist presence in government and labor. Matthews made a name for himself with his testimony and then leveraged his notoriety to build a career as a professional witness. He’d flown into Seattle the previous day to share his expertise with the Canwell Committee.

“Dr. Mathews, are the UW professors openly recruiting students to join the party?” asked Canwell after order returned to the hearing.

“No, there’s nothing open about it. They’re very skillful with their deception,” Matthews responded. In his mid-fifties, his neatly trimmed gray hair, rimless glasses perched on a large nose and finely cut gray suit underscored his credibility. This was a man of authority, credible and convincing. “These professors have mastered Marxism and Leninism,” he continued. “They can skillfully inject their philosophy into their teaching with little risk of exposure.”

The murmuring grew louder.

Mathews picked up a document and held it high for everyone to see. “I have in my hand an official pamphlet of the Communist Party,” he announced. “It’s titled the Road to Mass Organization of Proletarian Children. It lists multiple objectives for brainwashing our young ones.” The audience turned quiet, eager to catch every astounding word from this man.

John Jacobson was outraged. He was pinched in the middle of a herd of fellow students in short-sleeved shirts and girls wearing sweaters and skirts. They crowded the right and left aisles and overflowed into the stairway. The students struggled to suppress their annoyance. Did this know-it-all think they were simpletons incapable of knowing shit from Shinola?

John planned to take Ellie and John Jr. to Woodland Park today. Ellie enjoyed sunning near the rose bushes while Junior rode the ponies. But he was glad he didn’t because this guy was unbelievable. John just finished his sophomore year at UW. He’d taken courses from three of the professors named as suspected Communists. He’d heard rumors about their leftist leanings. Not once did they offer up anything questionable. Sure, they’d discussed Leninism and Marxism in the political science and psychology classes. They compared those forms of government to democracy and capitalism. He’d read the Communist Manifesto while in the reformatory. Its failings were clear to him. He needed no convincing on the superiority of capitalism and a republican form of government.

Matthews began reading. “A special struggle should be waged at the family home by the children to win over the adults. The goal is to convince parents to reject backward ideas like religion, petty customs and traditions.” Matthews set down the pamphlet and looked across the auditorium. Everyone was looking up at him. The hall grew quiet for the first time that day. He hesitated long enough for the words to sink in. “In case you’re unaware, Communists are atheists, and the newly converted are expected to give up bourgeois holidays like Christmas.”

The audience erupted in catcalls and boos. Christmas!

“Order, order!” Canwell shouted, pounding his gavel. “If you want to remain in this hearing room, I insist you show some decorum.”

“This sounds fantastic to some Americans but there it is in black and white.” Mathews waved the pamphlet around. “It starts with ten or twelve year old children and continues right through university. Many colleges today, knowingly or unknowingly, have become Communist front organizations.”

“Please help educate us on Communist front organizations, Dr. Matthews,” Canwell requested.

“Front organizations are a half-way station between the status quo and the Communist Revolution. They are a tool of the Communist Party for seizing power. There are hundreds of them across America. I can name multiple ones right here in Seattle.” He rattled off a list. “The Washington Pension Union, Students for Wallace, the Northwest Labor School, the repertory theater. There are more, believe me.”

John’s annoyance rumbled around in his stomach, bubbling to the surface, ready to erupt into full-fledged anger. Students standing near him stirred and grumbled.  

“The U.S. Communist Party is going about it in the reverse order,” Matthews continued. “They are working to convert college students today so they can raise their children to be Communists tomorrow. It won’t happen right away or even in a few years. It may take decades but the evidence is clear.” He stopped to gather his thoughts and looked out at the audience. “My research shows that professors who associate with front organizations on or off campus are inching our country towards the unthinkable. They want nothing less than toppling our democracy and turning America into a Communist state.”

The room exploded in a roar of disbelief and indignation. Spectators stood and booed. Others screamed obscenities.

“Stop the bastards now!” a woman yelled.

“Hang the Commies!”

“Protect our children!”

“Fascists!” screamed John and several other students.

Seattle Police and Washington State Patrolmen rushed in the direction of the rowdy students. John was the first of several pushed towards the exits. Before he could react, two burly patrolmen grabbed him by each arm and dragged him towards the stairs leading to the first floor. His feet barely touched the ground as they marched him down the stairs and flung him unceremoniously through the open front doors. John lurched forward trying to regain his balance but tripped and tumbled down the concrete stairs onto the sidewalk.


David J. Jepsen is a historian, writer and educator teaching Pacific Northwest and U.S. history at Tacoma Community College. His novel about racial and labor conflicts in Seattle following WWII, titled Unbelonging, was released in April 2026.

He was lead author of Contested Boundaries: A New Pacific Northwest History (John Wiley and Sons, 2017), and he wrote and directed the award winning documentary Labor Wars of the Northwest, nominated in 2019 for Best Feature Film Made in Washington by the Gig Harbor Film Festival.

David writes a weekly post for the Washington State Historical Society titled “This Day in Washington.” He holds a master’s degree in history and a bachelor’s in communications from the University of Washington.

He lives with his wife, Jackie, in Gig Harbor, WA.


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