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Coming Soon!! The Winds Of Edenvale: The coastal winds of Edenvale had always been wild, but on this October afternoon in 1957, they carried something darker than salt spray and the promise of rain. Margaret McAllister—Maggie to everyone who mattered—pulled her woollen cardigan tighter as she guided her mare, Bonnie, along the clifftop track that bordered the family farm. The wind whipped her auburn hair from its careful pins, sending strands dancing across her face like copper threads against the pewter sky.

Below them, the Southern Ocean crashed against the towering limestone cliffs of Victoria's western coast with a violence that made Bonnie's ears flick nervously.

Coming Soon!! Whispers Among The Lavender:  In the sun-drenched French valley, the air is thick with the scent of lavender and the iron weight of tradition.

Elise, the cooper’s daughter, knew her place was far from the sprawling vineyards of the elite Armand family. But when her heart belonged to Julien Armand, the proud, charismatic heir, class lines meant nothing. Their intense, forbidden love was a reckless act of defiance that cost Julien everything. Shunned by his powerful father, Henri, Julien chose his love and lost his legacy.

 

Coming Soon!! The Sunlit Veil: Delos, Greece
The island where Apollo was born should not have been weeping.

Yet as dawn broke over the ancient sanctuary of Delos, the very stones seemed to shed tears of golden light. The ruins of temples that had once echoed with hymns of praise now stood silent, their broken columns reaching toward a sky that felt infinitely distant. Even the Aegean Sea, normally a brilliant blue-green under the morning sun, appeared muted, as if the colour were slowly draining from the world.

Apollo stood among the ruins of his most sacred temple, cradling something infinitely precious and impossibly fragile: a mortal woman whose life was ebbing away with each laboured breath. Maria Damaris had given birth less than an hour ago, but the cost had been higher than either of them had anticipated.

Coming Soon!! Soul Of My Heart: The river remembers everything.

It remembers the blood that stained its waters on April 16, 1746, when thousands fell on Drummossie Moor. It remembers the bodies it carried downstream, Jacobite and English alike, all equal in death. It remembers the screaming, the cannon fire, the desperate flight of men who'd believed in a lost cause.

And it remembers the warrior who fell into its embrace at dawn, accepting death as his due.

The river should have taken him. Should have claimed him as it had claimed so many others that terrible day. But the currents carried him instead to a place where the water slowed, where reeds grew thick along the bank, where morning mist could hide a dying man from those who hunted him.

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