<![CDATA[Author Erika M Szabo - NEWS]]>Mon, 19 Jan 2026 01:27:51 -0500Weebly<![CDATA[Complimentary Audiobooks]]>Sat, 18 Oct 2025 12:17:10 GMThttps://www.authorerikamszabo.com/news/complimentary-audiobooks
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Do you listen to audiobooks?

I'm giving away complimentary audiobooks this month.
Request your complimentary code(s) (available in US and UK only) by sending me a message with the title of the book you'd like to listen to.

Reviews and ratings are optional but greatly appreciated.

The available audiobooks are:

    I'd like to get the code for:

]]><![CDATA[I've Been Busy]]>Thu, 16 Oct 2025 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.authorerikamszabo.com/news/ive-been-busy
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I made new covers for some of my books

Some of my books have been published 10-15 years ago, and since then, a lot has changed. Technology evolved to 10 years ago unimaginable level, and I love using technology.

I use editing programs, and I create pictures and videos with the help of AI, however, I don't use AI to write anything for me. More and more AI written stories are popping up as books and videos, but the soul and limitless imagination of humans is missing from those stories.
I use my imagination to write my stories.

Do you like the old or the new covers?
​Let me know.

Old Cover
New cover
​Elana was born to a homeless, drug addict mother and left on the steps of St. Patrick Cathedral. Moving from one foster home to another, her life was a revolving door of shattered hopes and disappointments. SEE MORE
Old cover
New cover
Their family is a little different than the accepted norm. See how much heartache they endured while building their happy home.
People are not perfect, and we all come with baggage.
We can live a happy life or create a chaotic life. It all depends on the choices we make.
SEE MORE
Old cover
New cover
Jayden and his archeology group find a Medicine Woman’s burial site from the 5th century. Strangely, Jayden also finds a crude leather book in his grandmother's secret room written in 426 by a Shaman.
His sister, Sofia, decodes the ancient runes, and they learn that a powerful curse cast sixteen hundred years ago destroyed the lives of their ancestors for centuries. The curse will also ruin future generations' lives if it remains unbroken. SEE MORE

My recently published book

Dark fantasy
A short story collection to make you shiver. The stories we tell through chattering teeth around campfires and on Halloween nights always contain a kernel of truth, a sinister echo of something ancient and malevolent that prowls the shadowy corridors of our minds. On stormy nights, as we huddled under blankets, those aren't tree branches scraping your window. Those aren't pipes groaning in your walls. That's IT. It’s clawing through the membrane between worlds, its breath freezing the back of your neck. Its breath a cold mist that fogs the windows of perception, refusing to be forgotten even as daylight tries to burn away its presence…
]]><![CDATA[Echoes of Something Wicked]]>Tue, 07 Oct 2025 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.authorerikamszabo.com/news/echoes-of-something-wicked
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Dark fiction

Although dark fiction is not my usual genre, I really enjoyed writing these stories. 
The stories we tell through chattering teeth around campfires and on Halloween nights always contain a kernel of truth, a sinister echo of something ancient and malevolent that prowls the shadowy corridors of our minds.

On stormy nights, as we huddled under blankets, those aren't tree branches scraping your window. Those aren't pipes groaning in your walls. That's IT. It’s clawing through the membrane between worlds, its breath freezing the back of your neck. Its breath a cold mist that fogs the windows of perception, refusing to be forgotten even as daylight tries to burn away its presence…
​Although dark fiction is not my usual genre, I really enjoyed writing these stories. 
The stories we tell through chattering teeth around campfires and on Halloween nights always contain a kernel of truth, a sinister echo of something ancient and malevolent that prowls the shadowy corridors of our minds.

On stormy nights, as we huddled under blankets, those aren't tree branches scraping your window. Those aren't pipes groaning in your walls. That's IT. It’s clawing through the membrane between worlds, its breath freezing the back of your neck. Its breath a cold mist that fogs the windows of perception, refusing to be forgotten even as daylight tries to burn away its presence…
see more
buy the book
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