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venerdì 15 dicembre 2017

Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: The Remains in the Pond by Ann Swann



Senior prom is the happiest night of Gabi’s life. Her crush has just revealed that he is every bit as infatuated with her as she is with him. When he has a car wreck and is transported to the hospital in a coma, Gabi feels as if she’s taken a knife to the heart. But his jealous cousin, Rose, sees her chance to give the knife an even harder twist. She convinces Gabi to meet her at a local parking spot outside town. It's a night that will change several lives forever. One of the girls will return, and one will become known as the remains in the pond.

Purchase: Amazon US - Amazon IT

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Interview with the Author
Tell us a little about how you got started as an author and how you came up with the idea for this book?
I’ve always written stories, ever since I was in Jr. High school, but I didn’t start publishing until I was in college and won some short story contests.

Where do you get your ideas for characters? In particular, did you steal some characteristics from yourself or people you know for the main characters?
The main character in this book may have a bit of me in her, but not much. I’m much more suspicious and way more stubborn. The character of Matt is based on a guy I went to a dance with in high school (we never went out again, ugh), and the character of Rose is based on every rude girl I’ve ever encountered. Reece is simply my ideal man, a kind, hard working surfer-dude who can also cook.

Which author/authors or particular books have inspired you?
I’m inspired by everyone from Mary Stewart and her Merlin books, to Ray Bradbury and his speculative fiction, to Stephen King’s horror and Nicholas Sparks’ romances.

What were some of your favorite reads of the past year?
Into the Water by Paula Hawkins, A Man Called Ove (I think this may have been earlier), Once and For all by Sara Dessen, and The Midnight Line by Lee Child.

For the aspiring writers out there, can you tell us something about how you develop your plot?
For plot development, I start out with my opening scenes and my ending scenes, once I know where I’m going then I begin to plot how I’m going to get there. I don’t use index cards, but I do make notes for each upcoming chapter as I write.

Tell us about your future? Next book?
I’m currently working on a romance set near the fictional town of Stutter Creek. I can’t say the title yet (superstitious), but I will say it is a lot steamier than my other books. I’ve also got book 4 in the Phantoms series ready to go to the editor, and I have another YA that is finished and awaiting editing.

Author
Ann has been a writer since junior high school, but to pay the bills she’s waited tables, delivered newspapers, cleaned other people's houses, taught school, and even had a short stint as a secretary in a rock-n-roll radio station. She also worked as a 911 operator and a police dispatcher.

Ann’s stories began to win awards in her college days. Since then she’s published novels, novellas, and short stories. But even if no one ever bought another book, Ann wouldn’t stop writing. For her it’s the cathartic pause in a sometimes-crazy world. Most of the time, it even keeps her sane.


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Cover Reveal: All Systems Down by Sam Boush


Series: The Cyber War #1

24 hours.
That’s all it takes. 
A new kind of war has begun. 

Pak Han-Yong’s day is here. An elite hacker with Unit 101 of the North Korean military, he’s labored for years to launch Project Sonnimne: a series of deadly viruses set to cripple Imperialist infrastructure.

And with one tap of his keyboard, the rewards are immediate. 

Brendan Chogan isn’t a hero. He’s an out-of-work parking enforcement officer and one-time collegiate boxer trying to support his wife and children. But now there’s a foreign enemy on the shore a blackout that extends across America, and an unseen menace targeting him.

Brendan must do whatever it takes to keep his family safe. 

In the wake of the cyber attacks, electrical grids fail, satellites crash to earth, and the destinies of nine strangers collide.

Strangers whose survival depends upon each other’s skills and courage. 

For fans of Revolution, Tom Clancy, and Thom Stark’s May Day, All Systems Down is a riveting cyber war thriller which presents a threat so credible you’ll be questioning reality. 

Pre-order: Amazon US - Amazon IT - Kobo

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Excerpt
The sun rising over the Yalu River was the best part of Pak Han-yong’s day.

It began with darkness. In the distance, on the far side of the river, his homeland lay swaddled in unbreaking night. The fields and the factories, the port and the mills all slept. Then the horizon would lighten, from black to blue to gold, and the three faraway smokestacks appeared from the port city of Sinǔiju; first as silhouettes, then as gray fists, casting long shadows.

Next, the sun. Crimson light burned at the edges of red pine forests and reflected off the rice paddies. River, land, and air awoke to the glory of the Supreme Leader and the world’s chosen people. Tears sprung, as they always did, as light brought his beloved North Korea to life.

He observed it all from his desk on the tenth floor of the Shanghai Hotel in Dandong, China, across the border from the land of his ancestors.

China. After two years, Han-yong still had trouble internalizing the wealth of this nation. The Chinese lived in skyscrapers, profligate buildings of steel and glass. So different from his home city of Chongjin, where families lived modestly in single-story harmonica homes, so named because of their resemblance to the tiny boxes that make up the chambers of a harmonica.

On Fuchun Street, ten stories below, cars bustled. Unnecessary, extravagant. In Chongjin, nearly everyone was content to ride a bicycle or take public transit. And when they did drive, his people didn’t smoke like the Chinese. If you smoked, you wouldn’t catch the constant engine problems of your soviet-made Volga or ZIL.

Even from thirty meters above, it was apparent how the well-fed Chinese had been made soft by water that flowed reliably and electricity that ran all day. Food here wasn’t rationed by the gram. No one in China grew strong and clever from struggle and strain. There were no hardships here. And for that, he despised the Chinese, military allies or not.

Long live the Shining Sun of North Korea, he said. These people aren’t better than us. We have nothing to envy in the world. He lowered himself into the seat of his desk, rearranged his mouse so it squared perfectly with his keyboard, took a final sip of tea, and continued to monitor the attack that had started hours earlier.

Today, Han-yong fell into his routine, despite the enormity of the day’s events. Routine was the scaffolding that held his life together. He had woken in the earliest hours, barely speaking to his five roommates in the converted hotel room, had slipped into his pressed uniform, and spit-polished the single silver star on his shoulder. Then, after quickly wiping dust from the portrait of the Supreme Leader that hung alone on the wall, he’d moved to the common area to drink his tea and work until sunrise.

Two years of waiting, and today it has finally begun. He rubbed his hands together. Every day Han-yong worked here, visited the canteen, and bunked in his room. He rarely slept more than five hours. And never, in those two years, had he left the tenth floor of the Shanghai Hotel.

For all the differences between China and North Korea, there was only one that mattered, and it was why Han-yong was here at all. The Internet. On the North Korean side of the river, the global Internet, for all practical purposes, did not exist. There was a limited internal network that pointed to a handful of websites. But North Korea had fewer Internet protocol addresses in the whole country than could be found on a block in some Imperialist cities.

Here in China, though, the Internet reached nearly every corner of the globe. And because of that, Han-yong and the other elite hackers of Unit 101 could touch a banking system in London, a hospital network in New York City, or a data center in Tokyo.

Junior Lieutenant Pak! The gruff voice of the senior lieutenant shattered Han-yong’s reverie and brought him spinning from the window, springing to his feet, fingertips raised to eyebrow in salute. You are to come with me.

The senior lieutenant was very different from Han-yong. He was loud and assertive, tall by North Korean standards, and good-looking enough that he probably did well with women when he took leave—an amenity provided only to senior officers. But, most grating, he was a traditional military officer, untrained in online warfare, and knew just enough to stick his fingers where they didn’t belong.

Still, there was nothing to do but obey.

They waded the corridors in silence, past the desks where scores of other hackers from his unit sat immersed in a war that had begun with an attack on an Imperialist supercarrier only hours earlier. As Han-yong sauntered through the ranks of Unit 101, his pulse quickened with pride. They were the elite, plucked from grade school from across the country and enrolled in Command Automation University in Pyongyang. They had trained with the singular focus of learning to hack into secure enemy networks. They had become warriors. Instead of tanks or drones, their weapons were in code. They had mastered digital viruses, worms, the dedicated denial of service attack, trapdoors, and botnets. They had simulated cyber war amongst themselves and infiltrated foreign targets. At every stage, they had been tested and evaluated, and only the most gifted had come to wear the uniform.

The senior lieutenant stopped the door that led to the stairwell. The colonel has ordered a meeting with you, he said, one hand placed haughtily on his hip, not bothering to meet Han-yong’s eyes. He’d assumed the pose of a Manchurian guerrilla fighter from the war movies. You will speak when spoken to and answer all inquiries in full.

Han-yong couldn’t help himself. Sir, what inquiries?

About the interconnect logic bombs, the senior lieutenant snapped, unlocking the door. The stairwell beyond was devoid of decoration, except for a creamy swirl on the vinyl tile, like the pattern on the lid of a paint can. Hurry now. And he started up the stairs, feet tapping a marching rhythm.

The Imperialists of North America had many weaknesses, but Han-yong had been ordered to focus on the power grid. The system was a relic of the 1960s, set up with no thoughts for security, but instead as a way to balance the supply and demand for electrical power across vast swaths of territory. In their arrogance, the Americans had organized just five power-grid interconnections across the entire country, electrically tied together and operating at the same frequency.

While it may have so far proven a sufficient way to balance loads—power companies with little demand could transfer electricity to areas with greater demand—the reality was that a single significant disturbance could collapse all of the systems tied to the interconnection. And Han-yong did not have the means to cause just a single disturbance.

He had the means to cause thousands.

The project was code-named Sonnimne, after the smallpox gods of Korean mythology that long ago crossed the Yalu River. It was both a nod to the new pestilence they would unleash and a reference to how the plague had already spread in secret, machine to machine, substation to substation.

Han-yong had planted logic bombs—malware that could be triggered in response to an event—in substations across the United States. It had taken months of steadfast work. The difficulty was writing the combustible code within a Trojan application in a way that was at once difficult to detect, easy to spread, and powerful once deployed. While the wait and the work had been excruciating, the payoff would be enormous. And imminent.

They reached the top of the stairs, and the senior lieutenant produced a key to open the gray-painted industrial steel door. The eleventh floor was reserved for high-ranking officers, their quarters, and computer servers that required additional security.

Sweat beaded on Han-yong’s brow. The colonel ranked just three steps below a general, and was likely the most senior military official Han-yong would ever speak to in his career. A slipup here might find him dishonored and discharged, or eating rats in a reeducation camp.

They rounded the first corner through the carpeted corridor, where Han-yong noticed, with more than a little satisfaction, that the smell of mildew pervaded every bit as strongly as in the floor where the junior officers worked. The senior lieutenant pulled up short in front of a door with a brass room number in the Western style. Before they could knock, a man inside bellowed, Junior Lieutenant Pak Han-yong. Come in. Come in.

The voice was not what he’d expected. Friendly. Jovial, even. Han-yong poked his chin through the doorway.

Nothing about the scene that greeted them was as he had imagined. The hotel suite was gaudy by North Korean standards. The walls, which should have been bare except for the requisite photograph of the Supreme Leader, were decorated with paintings of mountains and birds in a style that Han-yong vaguely recognized as Japanese.

The room was not sleeping quarters, but an office far larger than the room Han-yong shared with the other soldiers. At the center of the space, a heavy-grain oak desk displayed unrecognizable artifacts: three swords on a wooden rack, an unfolded fan with red tassels and a painted orange sun, a clay jar in the shape of a boar, and a half-dozen other oddities that Han-yong had never seen. They were beautiful, and he felt guilty for admiring the work of foreigners.

The colonel himself was also a surprise. A crisp military uniform did nothing to hide his bulk. No one Han-yong had ever met carried more than a few pounds of extra weight. How could they, when even prison guards and soldiers, who received the best rations in the country, still lived off just enough to fill their bellies?

Junior Lieutenant, the colonel began, leaning back in his chair, your commanding officer tells me we are ready to move forward with project Sonnimne. And I understand that you have implanted code throughout the US system of interconnects?

Not exactly, sir. Han-yong hesitated, unsure of how much technical detail to provide. I created a zero-day exploit. A new kind of virus, sir. It uses entirely original code. The colonel raised an eyebrow. That means it can’t be detected by malware filters, Han-yong continued. The virus triggered a patch update in the operating systems of the high-voltage distribution facilities and spread throughout.

The colonel inclined forward, his chair squealing under the weight. What do you mean by ‘spread throughout?’ How many facilities have the virus?

Han-yong paused, careful to give the correct information. All of them, sir. All of the distribution facilities in the United States now have the virus.

The senior lieutenant let out a dry cough. Otherwise, for several seconds no one moved or spoke. Han-yong shifted his weight between feet.

But … that must be thousands, the colonel said.

A trickle of sweat trickled down Han-yong’s brow toward his eye, but he ignored it. Yes, sir. There are over nine thousand electric-generating facilities and over three-hundred thousand kilometers of high-voltage lines spread between them. These substations alone carry seventy percent of the most-hated nation’s electricity. They all have the virus.”The sweat droplet fell into his eye. He blinked it away.

Do you mean to say that we have a virus that can wipe out seventy percent of the American electrical grid?

No, sir. When the majority of the US power grid goes down, the lower-voltage lines won’t be able to sustain the added load volume. They will topple under the stress. This virus will wipe out one-hundred percent of the American electrical grid.

The colonel’s mouth hung open as if he were about to speak, but couldn’t, while the senior lieutenant wore a self-satisfied smirk that reminded Han-yong of a least weasel with a bellyful of stolen eggs.

The colonel’s jaw tightened below a layer of fat. If the virus is dispersed so completely, then why has nothing happened? The lights are still on in the West.

Now it was the senior lieutenant’s turn to explain. The virus has two stages. The first is the spreading stage, which is only recently complete. The second stage is activation, when the logic bombs that have been hidden in the code will deploy. We are ready to deploy that on your order, sir. Today, if desired. Along with the hundreds of other attacks Unit 101 has prepared.

Han-yong nodded, proud that his efforts fit so well with the whole. Each team member had his own projects designed to attack global enemies; separate and equally deadly projects to take out Imperialist infrastructure. Some cyber soldiers had built malware to disable railways. Some had built code to choke airline traffic. Still others had built viruses to cripple the Imperialist military communications.

At your command, we can activate the logic bombs with a keystroke, the senior lieutenant continued. The virus will cause the power grid to overheat and self-immolate. I have no way of knowing how long it would take to repair, but every time the Americans try to rebuild the lines, we can bring them down again.

At that, the colonel laughed heartily, the fat of his jowls jiggling with mirth. You both are too young to appreciate the irony in what we are about to do. You see, when the Soviet Union collapsed decades ago, our system also faltered. The subsidies that had sustained us fell away, and our power plants rusted into disuse. Our streets went dark. And many of our cities are still without power, as you know. The fatherland is still in the dark.

Han-yong nodded. All too well, he knew of the humiliations his countrymen had suffered under the sanctions of their enemies.

But our time has come, the colonel continued. Like the thousand-li horse, we are too swift to be mounted, too elegant to be cowed. At last, it has all come together. The fight has only begun, and already the enemy falters. So now we will strike at the heart. Today we will lash out with this and everything we have. This is our chance to repay, blindness for blindness, a world that sent us into blackness.

Author
Sam has worked as a wildland firefighter, journalist, and owner of a mid-sized marketing agency. Though he’s lived in France and Spain, his heart belongs to Portland, Oregon, where he lives with his wife, Tehra, two wonderful children, and a messy cat that keeps them from owning anything nice.


giovedì 14 dicembre 2017

Book Blitz & Giveaway Visionary Investigator by Yumoyori Wilson



Series: Paranormal INC #1

What would you do if everything you touched told a story?

Life for Scarlet hasn’t been easy.

Being a 25-year-old criminology student with a tiny Netflix addiction, you’d think life would be simple. Too bad everything she touches induces a series of visions.

As Scarlet attempts to avoid her reputation as the crazy, fainting lady, she’s assigned her final project: examine a crime scene with five righteously hot, attractive men.

When she accidentally bumps into a crystal ball and triggers a vision, Scarlet believes she can kiss her dream of becoming a criminal investigator goodbye.

To Scarlet’s surprise, her troublesome gift is about to be her ticket into an apprenticeship with the top private investigator organization in the country. Unfortunately, she missed the memo about the existence of the paranormal race. What’s more shocking? She might be one of them.

Every person has a past. Every object holds a tale.

Purchase: Amazon US - Amazon IT

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Author
Yumoyori Wilson is from Toronto, Ontario. She loves to sleep and write her days away. She works at night as a registered nurse. She has a little addiction to bubble tea and coffee but loves to workout. She has big plans for the writing world and can't wait to share them with everyone.

Links: Facebook - FB Group - Goodreads

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Release Blitz & Giveaway: The Lost Macaw by Brenda Blair



The Lost Macaw is the fourth novella in the Lost and Found Pets series. Alexandra Prescott is a licensed private investigator specializing in finding missing animals. Reuniting pet and owner is more than just a job. 

A former client hires Alex to find her lost parrot. The bright colored bird has flown away before, but this time there is evidence that Molly was kidnapped. The demand is simple—the bird for the pictures. 

When her client suffers a stroke, Alex is left with a ransom note, a missing bird, and some very incriminating photos. She is in a race against time to solve the mystery of the lost Macaw.

Purchase: Amazon US - Amazon ITB&NiBooksKoboSmashwords

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Excerpt
Your little old lady is quite interesting, Alex, Halie said.

What do you mean?

She didn’t exist until about thirty years ago.

What?!

I did a preliminary background search on her. In general, she is clean. No debt. The house is paid off as is her car. The one thing that jumped out at me was the fact that she had a safe deposit box at four different banks.

Luke raised one eyebrow. I got a sinking feeling. I had noted the bank accounts but hadn’t really given them much thought.

Yeah, I said, I saw those.

So why does an eighty-year-old woman need four safe deposit boxes?

Why does she need more than one? Luke muttered.

Exactly, Halie said. So I dug a little deeper.

What did you find?

About thirty years ago, Joseph and Trudy Kearns purchased the house on Carriage. Back then, it was a new neighborhood, and the prices were cheap. They paid cash. They also opened a bank account, and Joe got a job working for the city. Those are the first records I can find for either one of them.

Trudy would have been fifty at that time. Her husband probably a few years older. What about birth certificates? Social security cards?

They had them, but conveniently, they were issued from a small county in Virginia where a massive flood destroyed all their records. The county office was in the process of moving the old paper records to electronic when the flood hit.

Let me guess. The Kearns’s records did not survive the flood.

Nope.

So the only records for them are the ones they had in their possession. I paused a moment. Do they look real?

Yes, Halie replied.

So they could be authentic.

Or really good forgeries. In some ways, it was easier back then.

Anything else? I asked.

Not really. Like I said, she’s pretty clean. Lives on a fixed income of social security and a small pension from her husband’s job. It isn’t much because he only worked for the city for twelve years before he had to retire.

This isn’t looking good.

I’ll keep digging. See if anything else turns up.

Okay, thanks Halie.

After ending the call, I looked a Luke. He had a perplexed look on his face that I had a feeling mirrored mine.

Who the hell is Trudy Kearns?

Author
B. L. Blair writes mystery/romance stories. Like most authors, she has been writing most of her life and has dozens of books started. She just needs the time to finish them.

She is the author of the Holton Romance Series, the Leah Norwood Mysteries, and the Lost and Found Pets Mystery Series. She enjoys reading books, writing books, and traveling wherever and as often as time and money allows. She is currently working on her latest book set in Texas, where she lives with her family.

Links: Website - Blog Facebook - Goodreads - Twitter

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Book Blitz & Giveaway: There Be Demons by M.K. Theodoratus



Heroes come in all shapes.

The war for Andor has lasted a century. Humans and their allies, the Angeli, fight demons from another plane who need a warmer planet to hatch and raise their young. Trebridge becomes Ground zero when Abraxas, a minion of the demon Prince Vetis, opens a secret portal into the city. The demons’ goal is to build an army to subjugate the city before the humans realize they are under attack.

Standing in the demons’ way are two disparate groups: the humans of Andor and their Angeli allies who command gargoyle warriors.

Leading the four gargoyles guarding Trebridge is Gillen, a proven war hero who uses magic to fight demons. But Gillen is an outcast, mocked for his tuft of hair that normal gargoyles lack. It’s up to him to prove once and for all that he’s worthy of his command, in spite of dissention in his ranks. When Gillen asks the Angeli Commanders for reinforcements to fight the growing demon menace in Trebridge, headquarters send four human teens from the projects.

The leader of the humans is Britt, a 14-year-old half-Hispanic girl who is one of the four magic-possessing Chosen. But Britt was never trained in the art of magic, and like most girls her age, spends her days preoccupied with school and romance. Like Gillen, she must rise above her station in life–if she is to save the ones she loves.

But Gillen and Britt are facing formidable demon foes, Abraxas: a chicken-headed demon who possesses several humans as part of his plan to build the demons’ base in Trebridge and power-hungry Prince Vetis who is his commander. Neither will let the deaths of expendable humans get in their way of the conquest.

In There Be Demons, author M.K. Theodoratus spins a brilliant tale of good versus evil. In this thrilling Young Adult fantasy novel, unlikely heroes rise to challenge a relentless enemy. Join them as they risk everything to save their city.

Purchase: Amazon US - Amazon IT - B&N - Kobo - Overdrive

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Author
Fantasy has always been part of M. K. Theodoratus’ life, starting when she starting playing with an imaginary friend when she was three. Comics, books, TV, and movies followed throughout her life. A northern California girl, many of her Andor alternative-world stories are firmly rooted there. Today, she lives in Northern Colorado with her husband and two lap-cats, and writes when she’s not wasting time on social media.


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mercoledì 13 dicembre 2017

12 Days of Fantasy for Christmas & Giveaway - Grand Finale Blitz


Day 1
Deep Dark Secrets by Sarra Cannon

Day 2
Spindle by W.R. Gingell

Day 3
Wolf Hollow by Nikki Jefford

Day 4
A White So Red by K. D. Jones

Day 5
The Orphan and the Thief by M. L. LeGette

Day 6
Infinite Night by Belle Malory

Day 7
Pretender to the Crown by Melissa McShane

Day 8
Xoe by Sarah C. Roethle

Day 9
Mark of the Mage by R.K. Ryals

Day 10
Scarred Beauty by Jennifer Silverwood

Day 11
Queen of Iron and Blood by Melissa Wright

Day 12
Silent Orchids by Morgan Wylie

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Orrore Antigas di Olga Gnecchi e Gianluca Ingaramo


Natasha e Dimitri dovranno affrontare orde di zombi e mostri mitologici. In situazioni tra l'esilarante e l'orrorifico, tra scenari apocalittici e canzoni goliardiche, dovranno vedersela con la minaccia del lovecraftiano Cthulhu: riusciranno a salvare la pelle?

Acquista: Amazon

Autori
Olga Gnecchi nasce ad Agrigento il 2 febbraio del 1985 e vive a Porto Empedocle. Tra le sue pubblicazioni, i due thriller Sotto i suoi occhi (2014) e L’ultima cella (2015) e il dark fantasy Creature oniriche (2017). Con Gianluca Ingaramo scrive la parodia erotica Giallo Antigas (2016) e il racconto L’indifferente contenuto nell'antologia Jingle Bloody Bells 2 (2016) pubblicata da Nero Press edizioni. L’antologia natalizia Strenne d’inchiostro (2015) del gruppo USE contiene il racconto La sorella. Ha ricevuto una menzione d’onore dal magazine il Cartello per il racconto Passi (2016). Cura la rubrica Nuove Penne per il magazine ThrillerNord e collabora con l’organizzazione del premio letterario Terra di Guido Cavani.

Appassionato di genere horror, Gianluca Ingaramo esordisce con la raccolta personale Nocturna 24, storie dal buio (2015) pubblicata da Montecovello. Partecipa a diverse antologie: Attraversami (2015) pubblicata da Arpeggio Libero; True Halloween (2015), Jingle Bloody Bells (2015), Deep love 2 (2016), Summer of blood (2016) e Jingle Bloody Bells 2 (2016) pubblicate da Nero Press edizioni. Pubblica la raccolta Nocturna 12, equinozio d’orrore (2015) e la parodia erotica Giallo Antigas (2016) scritta con Olga Gnecchi e cura le antologie Strenne d’inchiostro (2015) del gruppo USE e Ti racconto una canzone (2016) con proventi destinati all'associazione HHT Onlus. È tra i redattori del blog In Nomine Artis, il ritrovo degli artisti, dedicato al settore culturale con particolare attenzione al mondo della scrittura.