🔦In the Bookish Spotlight🔦The Essence of Bliss by Emily Astillberry

 



Kindle Edition: $5.40

Other Formats: Paperback

The Essence of Bliss

By Emily Astillberry

Isabel Bliss is a reception class teacher. She experiences other people’s emotions and can influence how they feel but she doesn’t truly understand her gift and has been encouraged, by her mum, to hide it from others. She often feels lost and alone. 

When a child in her class experiences chronic distress that only she can perceive, Isabel uses her ability to relieve his suffering, but his situation continues to worsen. Eventually she is forced to take matters into her own hands, escorting him home where she finds horrific signs of abuse. She saves his mum’s life and his father is arrested for the brutal torture he has inflicted upon his family. 

A wealthy family moves to town and Isabel meets the two sons. She recoils from Daniel, who is hateful, rude and emotionally deficient but is inexorably drawn to Scott, who awakens something magical, deep inside her. They are like her. They are fluencers and have the ability to sense, read and willfully manipulate emotional energies. Isabel confronts her mum and uncovers hurtful lies and deceit within her own family. 

She falls deeply in love and ultimately discovers the untold potential of her gift and the passion and power that dwells within.

Read a sample here.

The Essence of Bliss is available at Amazon UK and Amazon US.


The next few moments occurred in painful slow motion. As I tugged my arm sharply out of Donna’s grasp, I was jostled by a stranger on the other side. I felt myself falling off balance and reached out to grab onto something, anything, to keep me upright. The something that I grabbed onto was a jacket slung over an arm and the owner of the jacket pulled back on it hard, tipping me further off balance and sending me sprawling to the floor on my knees. I let out a pained cry as my still bruised knee struck the hard floor.

I ended up on my knees in front of a strong, long set of masculine legs in blue denim. I didn’t know for certain to whom the legs belonged, but I could make an educated guess from the pitch of the gasp and giggle from Donna and the murmuring of the onlookers. I really didn’t want to look up, but I knew that it was inevitable. I couldn’t stay on the floor forever. My knee was painful, and I wasn’t even certain that I could get up by myself. Slowly, grudgingly, I raised my eyes to find Daniel Callahan looking down at me with distasteful recognition and an unpleasant, disdainful smile. I looked him in the eye with as much dignity as I could muster. He continued to stare rudely. He didn’t utter a word.

“Sorry,” I muttered, and my hand flew to my mouth in instant regret. Had I seriously just apologised to him, again, for falling over, again? I was a total idiot, and I was more embarrassed than ever. What was it about this man that made me fall at his feet and behave like a stuttering moron with an apology tic?

“It seems like you’re making a habit of falling on your knees in front of my brother. Here, let me help you.” 

In an instant, everything changed. My whole life turned upside down. Something inside me roared to life and I suddenly felt different, stronger, more alive. It came from the source of the humming, that place deep inside of me. Those simple words, that simple offer of a hand to my feet, the smooth, velvety voice. It was the sort of voice that could make a person weak at the knees with its deep resonance and gentle tone, but it was so much more than that. I didn’t just like the sound of his voice. Something about the owner of that voice had just changed something fundamental about me, and somehow I knew, in that fraction of a second, that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

I wasn’t sure if I could move or if I wanted to look into the face that belonged to those words, that voice. I was frightened about what I might find and what it might do to me, what I might become. However, I was still on the floor on my knees, so I put my hand out, took his and let him pull me to my feet. 

Our eyes met, and without warning, a multitude of sensations overwhelmed me. I saw him, I felt him, I sensed him. I experienced things that I couldn’t understand or explain, but it was like a fire had been lit in my soul, like fireworks exploding in the deepest recess of my mind. I couldn’t just feel his emotions in the way that I normally do. This experience went further, deeper. It felt like in that single second, he was actually inside my mind, or I was inside his. I wasn’t sure whether it was one or the other or if it were both. I couldn’t process what was happening to me. It was happening too fast and exercising too many of my senses. 

He looked at me with bewitching eyes that reached into my very core. Eyes a deep, rich brown, like swirling chocolate, shimmering with a layer of warmth. They glistened with a flame that matched the fire that had ignited inside me, as if his eyes understood and reflected the very essence of me. We saw each other in a way that I had never known before, a way that I had never even dreamed of, and as we looked into each other’s eyes, the flames in his eyes grew larger, hotter. I took everything in, every minute detail. The dark hair swept back from his face, the healthy tan to his skin, the perfect line of his nose leading to full, rich lips surrounded by laughter lines, indicating a happy man: a joyful, confident, beautiful, magical creature.

The intensity of the moment wasn’t limited to the visual. The way that he looked wasn’t what captivated and thrilled my senses. When I sensed a person through their emotions, I usually felt that they were happy or sad, angry or hurt, but this was something new. This was a cacophony of feelings so loud that I felt as if my head might burst with the joy of it. Emotions that lifted me into the sky, swirling around me and through me — through my mind, through my heart, through my body — until I felt dizzy with the power of it. All that I could see were those eyes, those lips. All that I could hear was that voice, and yet I could feel and see and hear everything all at once, like I was awake for the first time in my life, like I had found the answer to a question that I hadn’t known I’d been asking.

– Excerpted from The Essence of Bliss by Emily Astillberry, Blossom Spring Publishing, 2024. Reprinted with permission.



 

 

 

Emily Astillberry is an author and RSPCA Inspector from Norfolk, England. She has a degree in English Literature and Linguistics from York University and has been investigating animal cruelty and neglect and rescuing sick and injured animals for 20 years. In her day job, Emily deals with very difficult and often emotional situations and meets all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds. Her career provides some of the inspiration for themes and characters that can be found in her fictional work.

At home, in a very old cottage in the country, Emily has a husband, 5 children, a dog, a cat, an axolotl, 2 giant African land snails and a varying number of rescue hens, so finding time to write can be a challenge. She is happiest outdoors, growing fruit and vegetables in the garden, walking the dog and family holidays usually involve walking up mountains in summer, skiing down them in winter and sleeping in a tent whenever possible.

Emily loves spending time with her large, noisy, chaotic family, cooking meals for friends and playing board games. She always has at least one book on the go and has always dreamed of writing her own novel. She now dreams of writing more. 

Visit her website at https://emilyastillberry.com

You can also find her on Facebook and Instagram.

The Essence of Bliss is her latest book.

 

 

🔦In the Bookish Spotlight🔦 The Voice I Couldn't Ignore by Johanna Frank

 


Kindle Edition: $5.99

Other Formats: Hardback / Paperback

The Voice I Couldn't Ignore

By Johanna Frank

The Voice I Couldn’t Ignore—a work of creative nonfiction, a story when God forewarned, held and healed.

In a vision, God told Hanna he was taking her child. Seven years later, he did.

This story leads the reader through an ancestral prophecy, profound visions, and a mother’s journey through symbolisms in the Holy Land. It shares how she guided her teenage daughter through a devastating diagnosis while wrestling with God, and reveals her spiritual rebuilding of an unshakable house of faith in the aftermath of loss.

Read sample.

The Voice I Couldn’t Ignore is available at Amazon.


 
 
Descendant Hanna, Canada, 1982

“A heavy blade, it comes straight at me.”

I might as well have been naked. Afraid of judgment. All this explaining felt like a confession. But the air in my chest lightened up somewhat, so I urged myself to continue.

“Slices the air like it’s on some kind of mission. With some kind of wild purpose. Always a direct aim at my line of sight. The swoosh, I can’t hear it. The whole business… all silent and invisible.”

Imagined, all in my head? I could only wish.

“I duck and bury my face.” No reason to mention how badly my hands would shake or how my shoulders could jerk about to recover from the attack. “Then nothing. There’s like—nobody—just air.”

“And just how often does this ax-head attack you?” The counselor leaned his forehead my way.

Finally, someone believed me.

But when he arched bushy brows and hovered his pen atop a page full of doodles in the thick notebook balanced on his lap, I wasn’t so sure.

“Often enough. Sporadic,” I answered anyway. “Three or four times a week. Then a month will go by, nothing.” I shrugged and ogled the exit. This was a mistake.

“And just where do these plaguing manifestations happen?” He tucked his chin into his neck and fingered an ear.

Plaguing manifestations? Nope.

I gripped the armrests, squeezed their width as though they were stress balls. He thought I was making this up. He was getting paid, so shouldn’t he at least indulge me?

The counselor crossed his legs, displaying shoes only loser-like, middle-aged men should wear. “Er, occurrences,” he rectified.

All right, I’d play. But I had to think.

“Mostly when I’m just walking. Several times, I guess, when I’m on the bus coming home. And, once, when I was driving my mom’s car. Nearly went off the road.”

It was a good question, and the answer enlightened my curiosity. Kinda odd that I was always leaving one place and heading to another. The ghostly ax-head struck only when I was in transition. Did that mean anything? Why hadn’t I realized that before?

He nodded, his note scribbling and foot wiggling in sync. “In other words, might your mind have been free to wander when walking, busing it, driving, perhaps?”

“I suppose.” Good call. Point for him. Though the jury was still out. Was someone finally taking me seriously?

“Do you believe these are attacks to harm you?”

His gaze remained on his scrawling penmanship, ignorant of his probe’s unfitting casualness.

Of course, they are. Duh! Why else would someone swing an ax at my head?

I shifted, the oversized chair feeling more like a prison. Claustrophobia was setting in. And a burn spread from where I’d rubbed my palms on the armrests. I scooted back to compose with a deep breath. “Yes, I believe they are.” He’d catch on to my monotone voice. Still, he didn’t look up.

Ah, crap. He didn’t believe me. I could barely afford this appointment. If I called it quits now, would I get billed for less time?

“Are you disappointed in yourself, Hanna?” He paused and seemingly decided on a more direct line of inquiry. “Have you ever wanted to self-harm?”

Now he peered above his glasses? Self-harm! Nope again. He wasn’t getting it—at all. An invisible force of some kind, a someone I couldn’t see, was whacking me so hard I physically jolted. I was here because of these so-called occurrences—or whatever they were. My throat tightened and responded to a hard swallow. How to reply?

A deep stomach sigh. A few scratches at the back of my neck. Then I again eyed my coat hanging on the peg. My stocking feet planted themselves with an unmistakable firmness as I pushed away from ribbed corduroy material designed to relax its occupants.

“It’s not like that,” I snipped. Beads of sweat formed, thanks to the internal warmth now climbing clear to my forehead. Despite the man’s kind promptings to please sit down and stay until his billing hour was up, it was no use.

He didn’t get me. So much for this guy.

– Excerpted from The Voice I Couldn’t Ignore by Johanna Frank, Marrow Publishing, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

 

Johanna Frank is a Canadian author based in Southern Ontario, where she lives with her husband, and delights in time with her children and grandchildren. Her award-winning A Lifeline Fantasy Series includes The Gatekeeper’s Descendants (Readers’ Favorite 5-Star Medalist), Jophiel’s Secret (Winner of the 2023 General Market Suspense Fiction Award and the Christian Speculative Fiction Award), and Here Lyeth (finalist for The Word Guild’s 2025 Christian Speculative Award). 

In addition, Johanna has introduced a creative memoir, a deeply personal work that explores God’s abundant mystery and healing. 

Known for her lyrical, imaginative style rich in symbolism and spiritual depth, she invites readers into otherworldly adventures and real-life reflections that illuminate belonging, faith, and the unseen.

“Frank, one of Canada’s emerging authors in spiritual fantasy, walks a fine line between general fantasy and faith-based fiction. Her work aims to innovate and transcend traditional boundaries, catering to a hungry market of curious readers who don’t want to be preached to but are open to exploring spiritual themes through fantasy.” – Sheri Hoyte, Reader Views

Her latest book is the powerful Christian nonfiction, The Voice I Couldn’t Ignore.

Connect with Johanna at Facebook, Goodreads, Instagram and BookBub