Dear reader. In 1994, nobody could call for help. Pour something cold and let Nirvana Nights take you somewhere it shouldn't.
— JFK Løvlien

Leif Martin is twenty-four. Harvard behind him, a Rickenbacker in the trunk of a blue Porsche, and the largest fortune on earth waiting for him to grow up. He is on the road with Jaguar Filet, the band his father pays for.

It starts with a woman in a yellow polka dot dress, knocking on his car window in a Jamaican storm. Four days later she is gone, and the hotel has no record she was ever there.

By Rio there are hours he cannot account for. By Santos there is a taste of metal in his mouth, a telephone that rings every night, and a morning he wakes with no idea where he has been.

Leif Martin playing a gold Rickenbacker bass onstage with Jaguar Filet, from Nirvana Nights by JFK Løvlien

His mind is coming apart, and somebody knows exactly why.

Cocaine money and Jamaican diamonds. A laboratory in Haiti under a junta. Mind control warfare, and a program that was supposed to have burned in 1973.

Peter O'Toole. Robert Mitchum. The Kennedys. Jimi Hendrix. A prime minister at dinner.

Leif Martin and Carol Martinez on a Copacabana hotel veranda at night, from Nirvana Nights by JFK Løvlien

Power. Blood. Desire. Some inheritances come with a price tag.

Now that is some intriguing stuff, is it not.

Nirvana Nights is out on the first of November. The Kindle edition is on preorder now, signed paperbacks come from my own store on release day, and the audiobook follows on the tenth.

TL;DR

Nirvana Nights is book five of the Feeder Series. Out 1 November 2026, Kindle on preorder now.
Set in 1994, the last year a man could lose three days and have nothing to check them against.
It belongs to Leif Martin, twenty-four, son of John Martin. The first novel in the series not told from behind the father's shoulder.
Roskilde, Kingston, Rio, the Mantiqueira mountains, Soho, a Welsh tidal island, and a research facility on Tortuga.
Peter O'Toole records a jazz record in Kingston at three in the morning. Robert Mitchum gives advice on a beach. All of it fiction, none of it accidental.
Written by hand, once, at full speed. No AI, not a sentence.
The plot stays sealed.

Why 1994 Is the Whole Point
What Makes This One Insane
The Boy Who Was Furnished
The Real People In It
Places I Have Actually Stood
A Word of Warning
Where to Get It
Summary
Frequently Asked Questions
Related Reading

Leif Martin and his band smoking from a pit in the mud at Roskilde in 1994, from Nirvana Nights by JFK Løvlien

Why 1994 Is the Whole Point

Set a thriller today and your hero has a phone in his pocket. He has a map, a camera, a record of every call he made and four hundred people who can reach him in one second. Very comfortable for him. Death for the novel.

1994 is the last clean year. No phone. No camera in every hand. No permanent record of where a man was and who he was with. And if somebody decided to take three days out of your life and hand them back to you wrong, there was nothing on earth you could check them against.

That is not set dressing. That is the engine. Everything that happens to Leif Martin in this book is only possible because it is 1994 and because he is a long way from home with no way to verify a single thing he is being told.

John Martin hooded at a table in a London warehouse with champagne and a red rose, from Nirvana Nights by JFK Løvlien

What Makes This One Insane

A short and very incomplete list. I am giving nothing away with any of it.

A festival field in Denmark, three musicians, and a hole in the mud packed with enough weed and hash to flatten a small town. A Dane walks out of the morning fog, sits down, and smokes the entire thing in one go. That one happened. I was there.

Peter O'Toole, drunk and magnificent at three in the morning in a Kingston studio, reading lyrics about a woman he says he used to know.

A tropical storm, a blue Porsche, and a knock on the passenger window.

A puma the size of a lion on a mountain in the Mantiqueira, and a man on a rock ledge three hundred meters above a river with one round and a very bad angle.

A woman coming out of a helicopter over a Welsh tidal island under a canopy in the colours of the Norwegian flag, with a suppressed SIG and two hours before the pilot comes back for her.

A concert at Ronnie Scott's in Soho that goes badly wrong in front of exactly the right people.

A billionaire in a black hood, driven to a warehouse down by the river, where a woman he cannot see pours him Krug and tells him everything he did not know about his own family.

And a Mustang. A real P-51, coming off a 3,500-foot strip on Tortuga with nothing at the end of it but ocean.

That is maybe a third of it.

The Boy Who Was Furnished

John Martin was forged. Leif Martin was furnished.

That is the whole novel in five words. The father built it out of cocaine, diamonds and nerve, and he knows the price of every single thing he owns because he paid it himself. The son has spent twenty-four years being handed things.

He is brilliant. Genuinely, measurably brilliant. They tested him at six years old and stopped not because the boy reached his limit but because they reached theirs. He is also a fool, in the particular way that only a very clever young man with an unlimited line of credit can be a fool.

He does not see the thing standing directly in front of him. He has not seen it in fifteen years. And that is exactly why what happens to him in this book can happen at all.

Four novels I have stood behind John Martin's shoulder. This one I gave to the son. All of it, no easing in, no subplot, no promotion three books later once the old man runs out of road. Readers can smell a handover being managed. The father moves at the edges of the frame in this book like weather.

The Real People In It

Peter O'Toole. Robert Mitchum. Joseph and Robert Kennedy. Jimi Hendrix. Marco Pierre White in the kitchen that made his name. A sitting prime minister over dinner. Pablo Escobar in a memory. Ronnie Scott handing out an invitation.

All of it invented. None of it accidental. They are in the book because a man with the Martin fortune in 1994 would have been in those rooms, and the rooms only feel real when the right people are standing in them.

That is the Luxe Noir method and it has not changed since The Feeder. Real history underneath the fiction, researched hard, so the invention has somewhere solid to stand.

Places I Have Actually Stood

Half this book is set in Brazil, and I live here. Campos do Jordão with its Bavarian chalets and its araucaria forests, older than the dinosaurs. The Via Dutra. A Graal station on a hot afternoon with a woman at the pump who has been waiting for a certain car. Ipanema. Santos, where I am sitting now, and its canals, and the hills above the largest port in South America.

You cannot research the smell of araucaria resin on your hands. You have to have broken the needles.

The rest of it, Jamaica and Soho and Haiti and a tidal island off the Welsh coast, took a great deal more checking. And here is the thing nobody expects: 1994 is harder to research than 1794. Set a novel in 1794 and nobody in your readership was there. Set one in 1994 and half of them were alive and paying attention, and if you get a detail wrong they do not simply notice. They are personally offended, because you have got their own life wrong.

A Word of Warning

There is explicit sex in it, there is real cruelty in it, and there is one chapter in particular that I know will divide people. It is meant to. If you have read the first four you know roughly what you are walking into. If you have not, consider yourself told.

If you do not like profanity, sex, drugs, violence or drink, pour yourself a stiff sherry before you start. Or read something else entirely. I will not be offended.

Where to Get It

Kindle, on preorder now, delivered to your device on the first of November.

Paperbacks from my own store on release day.

The audiobook, narrated through the Magus studio, from my store on the tenth of November.

And if you want to know things before everybody else does, that is what the newsletter is for.

Summary

Nirvana Nights, book five of the Feeder Series, is out on 1 November 2026. Kindle on preorder, paperback on release day, audiobook on the tenth.
Set in 1994, the last year before everything a man did became traceable, which is the engine of the plot rather than the wallpaper.
It belongs to Leif Martin, twenty-four, brilliant, rich, and blind to the thing standing in front of him.
Roskilde, Kingston, Rio, the Mantiqueira, Soho, Wales, Haiti, and a P-51 off a cliff.
Real people in the frame, all of it fiction, researched hard so the invention has somewhere to stand.
Explicit, violent, and not for everyone. Written by hand, once, at full speed. No AI.
The plot stays sealed.

JFK Løvlien

JFK Løvlien is a Norwegian author and audiobook narrator based in Santos, Brazil, creator of the Luxe Noir genre and author of the Feeder Series: The Feeder, Alien AI, Goldblood, Luxe Rage and Nirvana Nights. Audiobooks produced through the Magus narration studio. Writes by hand, not by AI.

Frequently Asked Questions

When is Nirvana Nights out?

1 November 2026. The Kindle edition is on preorder now. Signed paperbacks come from my store on release day, and the audiobook from the tenth of November.

Do I need to read the earlier books first?

No. It stands alone. But a good deal of it rests on the first four, and several things land very differently if you already know what John Martin is capable of and who Bruce and Camilla Martin were.

Who is Leif Martin?

The son of John Martin, twin brother of Lela Martin, born 1970, Harvard class of 1994, bass player. Readers of the earlier books have met the family. This is the first novel that belongs to him.

Why 1994?

Because it is the last moment before everything became traceable. No phone in every pocket, no camera in every hand, no record of where a man was and who he was with. That is not atmosphere. That is the plot.

Is it based on your own life?

Small parts of it. I was in my twenties in the nineties and some of the rooms in this book are rooms I stood in. The Roskilde scene happened more or less as written. Yes, the Dane smoked it all. Names changed, edges sharpened. Leif Martin is not me. He is richer, better looking, and far more dangerous company.

What does the title mean?

That is answered inside the book. I will say only that it is not a reference to the thing most people will assume.

Is it explicit?

Yes. Sex, violence, drugs and language. It is a book for adults and it does not apologise for itself.

Is Nirvana Nights written with AI?

No. Not a sentence of it, and not a sentence of the four books before it. I build with AI on the business side and I am open about that. The novels are written by hand.

What is Luxe Noir?

A genre I created because nothing existing quite fit. If traditional noir is shadow and rain and a detective with a cigarette, Luxe Noir is champagne in a penthouse with blood on the marble. The full explanation is in What is Luxe Noir?

What comes after this one?

The Magus, book six, arriving in 2027 alongside a game of the same name that I am building right now. Same world, same bloodline.

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JFK Løvlien is a Norwegian author and audiobook narrator based in Brazil. He is the creator of the Luxe Noir genre and the author of The Feeder Series — including The Feeder, Alien AI, Goldblood, and Luxe Rage. His books are available worldwide on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. He also offers author consulting, professional audiobook narration in English and Norwegian, publishing services, and a complete library of writing and publishing resources at jfklovlien.com.