Synopsis

A catastrophic explosion at a New Orleans convention hall critically injures presidential nominee James Sinclair and ignites a national crisis. Attorney Ian McCullough soon uncovers evidence tying the attack to Vice President Jay Buckley, who has orchestrated a false-flag EMP event to mimic a Chinese assault and destabilize the country for his own rise to power. With the economy collapsing, industries crippled, and global alliances shifting against the United States, Buckley intends to weaponize fear, chaos, and national confusion to consolidate control. Secret recordings obtained by Lee Chang confirm collusion between the administration, foreign officials, and powerful tech interests. The evidence is strong enough to expose the conspiracy if Ian can deliver it safely.

Determined to return to Washington, Ian turns to naval commander Sean Hennessey and asks for a plane. Their strained past reignites when Ian finally admits how deeply Sean’s emotional withdrawal wounded him, especially after concealing the deaths of Ian’s mother, brother, and sister-in-law. Despite the unresolved pain between them, Sean agrees to help. With presidential immunity shielding those in power and time working against him, Ian risks everything to expose the conspiracy, protect James, and prevent the nation from descending into manufactured chaos.

Amazon

Guest Post

10 Things You Might Not Know About Trina Spillman

1. I didn’t start in fiction.
   My writing career began in technical writing, creating use-and-care manuals and product documentation for major corporations long before I ever wrote novels.

2. I survived the era of snail-mail queries.
   I came up in publishing when you mailed pitch letters with a self-addressed stamped envelope and waited months for a polite rejection. That experience shaped both my resilience and my realism about the industry.

3. I’ve written across wildly different genres.
   My work spans political thrillers, romance, fantasy, science fiction, nonfiction guides, and yes, a bit of playful erotica. I’ve never believed stories should stay neatly in one lane.

4. I’ve worked inside political systems.
   I’ve freelanced within political circles and seriously considered running for office, which gave me an unfiltered view of how power actually operates behind the scenes.

5. I believe hope is a radical choice.
   Even when writing about corruption, betrayal, and manipulation, I deliberately resist dystopian endings. I write stories that imagine solutions, not just collapse.

6. I write cinematically on purpose.
   I prefer momentum over ornamental description. My scenes are built to move, like a film unfolding on the page.

7. My award-winning fantasy series breaks all the rules.
   The Fablecastle Chronicles blends fairy tales, portals, political satire, and a version of Lucifer who is decidedly not what mythology promised.

8. I’m finally writing only what matters to me.
   With my children grown and my mortgage behind me, I no longer write under financial pressure. That freedom has fundamentally changed the kinds of stories I choose to tell.

9. Marketing is harder for me than writing.
   I love connecting with readers, but self-promotion doesn’t come naturally. I’d much rather be writing the next book.

10. Every story I write asks the same question.
    Who really holds power, who pays the price, and what happens when someone decides not to play along anymore?

Excerpt

The explosion ripped through the hall like a hellish fireball, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. Charred confetti rained down from above as smoke billowed through the air. The presidential nominee was missing. Ian McCullough’s heart pounded as he scanned the scene. He had to find James. The sight of the first responders rushing to aid the wounded spurred him into action. Secret service agents were already combing the debris around the stage, their movements frantic and purposeful. Out of the corner of his eye, Ian spotted a glint of something shiny on the ground, a monogrammed cufflink. Recognition struck him with a visceral force. It was one of the anniversary gifts he had given James. With desperation fueling him, Ian shouted, “Over here! He’s over here!” Ian scrambled to the edge of the collapsed stage. His desperate attempts to lift the structure were futile. The secret service detail, alongside a squad of firemen, swiftly intervened, pushing him aside to use hydraulic jacks on the massive wooden platform. The creaking and groaning of the wood echoed in Ian’s ears as they carefully raised the wreckage. Firemen pulled James out just before the stage gave way in a splintering crash. A dust cloud enveloped Ian, blurring his vision. In the haze, he glimpsed James being whisked away. Ian fought to catch up with the firemen carrying James’s unconscious body, but he was swept aside by the panicked tide of people evacuating the building.

Out on the sidewalk, Ian faced a barrage of questions from reporters. Emergency vehicles, their lights flashing, lined Convention Center Boulevard. The entire scene was a surreal, macabre circus. Spying one of the firemen who helped rescue James, Ian pushed through the throng of people. “Hey, do you know where they took the senator?” Ian screamed. “He’s being taken to University Medical Center,” the fireman replied, his face etched with concern. Ian thanked him and pushed through the crowd. The streets around the convention center, which had been cordoned off, were now choked with cars, first responders, and camera crews. Navigating through the dense, swirling crowd, Ian walked toward the French Quarter. With mechanical precision, Ian’s body moved forward while his mind remained trapped in a labyrinth of nightmarish images. The humid New Orleans air clung to his skin, thick with the mingled scents of bourbon, jasmine, and Tabasco sauce. It hung heavily, like a shroud. Ian’s mind drifted, transporting him back to that warm spring evening of March fifth, the night James had first shared his presidential ambitions. Their dining room had been bathed in soft amber candlelight, the table adorned with crisp white linens Ian had carefully pressed earlier that afternoon. Crystal wine glasses captured the flickering light, their refined edges creating small prisms that reflected across the walls. Ian had spent hours preparing a menu that told their story, each course a carefully curated celebration of their years together. The cufflinks had been his masterpiece. Crafted by an artisan who specialized in customized metalwork, they were more than mere accessories.

Each link bore James’s initials in an elegant, flowing script, the letters intertwined so intimately that they seemed to breathe with the same rhythm as their relationship. The twenty-four-carat gold caught the candlelight, warm and rich, a tangible representation of their deep, unbreakable bond. When Ian presented them to James that night, the vulnerability in his eyes spoke volumes. These were not just cufflinks but a promise, a private emblem of their commitment to one another. A violent shudder tore through Ian’s body, shattering the tender memory. Suddenly, all he could see was a blood-splattered cuff, James’s hand emerging from beneath the stage, the cufflink’s intricate engraving barely visible beneath the dried blood, a brutal testament to how quickly hope could be transformed into horror. A group of boisterous tourists, their laughter sharp and discordant, collided with Ian, jolting him from his nightmare. The French Quarter continued its relentless celebration, a cacophony of jazz and drunken revelry. He moved like a ghost among the living, barely registering the kaleidoscope of colors and sounds surrounding him. A nearby bar’s raucous applause caught his attention. As he stood at the threshold, Ian’s eyes were drawn to the television mounted above the bar. The president, a man Ian had long despised, was delivering a national address, his carefully crafted words sliding like poison into the nation’s consciousness.

– Excerpted from A New Dawn by Trina Spillman, The Wild Rose Press, 2026. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Trina Spillman, who also writes under the pen name Selene Greenleaf, crafts both practical witchcraft guides and immersive works of fiction that span romance, magical realism, and contemporary thrillers. Splitting her creative life between Colorado’s mountain landscapes and a growing library of story ideas, she blends current events, folklore, plant magic, and real-world rituals to invite readers into transformative experiences. Under Selene Greenleaf, she’s the author of Witchcraft Essentials: A Modern-Day Guide to Spells, Herbs, and Crystals; Cupid’s Craft: Love Spells for Valentine’s Day; and her forthcoming Plant Magic Encyclopedia: Rituals & Remedies, resources designed to help modern practitioners weave intention and botanical wisdom into everyday life. Writing as Trina Spillman, she’s best known for her engaging fairy tale retellings. Upcoming projects include:

A New Dawn — a gripping political thriller of power, ethics, and love, to be released by The Wild Rose Press

Collateral Justice — the powerful sequel to A New Dawn, where a hidden alliance of the world’s elite blurs the line between justice and vengeance.

The Witches of Fablecastle— When a witch hunter’s mirror exposes her forbidden magic, Holly McCool flees through a portal to Fablecastle, only to learn she’s the one destined to stop him from tearing both worlds apart.

The Quantum Hitchhiker’s Guide to Escaping the Matrix — a witty, mind-bending manual on how to hack reality, rewrite your personal code, and manifest with humor, consciousness, and a touch of modern witchcraft.  

Whether she’s exploring the ethics of power in a thriller or sharing herbal recipes for daily rituals, Trina/Selene’s work reflects her unwavering belief in the healing and transformative power of words.

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