In 1945, Isabela de Cordoba’s great-grandfather, the famous silent movie actor Lorenzo de Cordoba, mysteriously hid a legendary, multimillion-dollar emerald somewhere on the family’s sprawling Eucalyptus Street estate. Seventy years later, the gem remains concealed. Nicknamed the “Green Curse,” the emerald is blamed for the Southern California familia’s numerous, untimely deaths.
On her twenty-first birthday, Isabela receives a secret letter with a cryptic poem. These documents from the long-deceased Lorenzo invite her to hunt for the gemstone. But first, she must decipher the poem’s eight stanzas for clues.
To assist, Isabela hires her thirteen-year-old neighbors, the four Botanic Hill Detectives—twins Lanny and Lexi Wyatt, and their best friends, Moki Kalani and Rani Kumar. Eerie footsteps inside the mansion, unexplained occurrences in the adjacent cemetery, and the mysterious tenant in the backyard casita challenge them. But they ingeniously make progress on the poem’s meaning with startling discoveries. Sliding wall panels, a secret room, and hidden passages reveal much. The detectives aren’t the only ones looking for the emerald. The perilous race for the de Cordoba treasure is on!
Lexi is awakened at two a.m. by an unlatched bedroom window banging in the wind. She has just closed it and is about to return to bed when:
Lexi . . . became transfixed by something she saw out the troublesome window. At the far western edge of the estate grounds, there appeared a light that seemed to be bobbing, then pulsing on and off. Lexi squinted her eyes to aid her focus.
“What’s going on?” Rani asked a moment later. She propped herself up on her elbows.
“There’s a twinkling light out there. Come see for yourself.” Lexi beckoned to Rani with both hands. “Hurry up, before it’s gone.”
Rani scrambled out of bed and joined Lexi in gazing in the direction her friend was pointing. Both girls watched as the light moved first one direction, then the other.
Rani craned her neck for a better view. “Creepy. What part of the garden is that?”
“I hope I’m wrong, but I think that’s the churchyard at St. Barnabas Cathedral.”
The girls stared at each other wide-eyed as Lexi squeezed Rani’s forearm.
This Giveaway is US ONLY.
To win a Signed, personalized paperback copy of the book, and some matching book swag (x3)
Sherrill Joseph will be forever inspired by her beautiful students in the San Diego public schools where she taught for thirty-five years before retiring and becoming a published author.
She has peopled and themed the Botanic Hill Detectives Mysteries with children and adult characters of various abilities, races, cultures, and interests. Sherrill strongly believes that children need to find not only themselves in books but others from different races and social situations if all are to become tolerant, anti-racist world citizens. She also feels that kids are amazing human beings who don’t tend to get enough credit from some adults for their blossoming insights and intelligence.
The author created her detectives—patterned after her own fifth-grade students and twelve-year-old twin cousins—to be mature, smart, polite role models that will appeal to parents, teachers, but especially to kids who seek the courage and self-respect needed to realize their greatest potential.
Sherrill is the recent recipient of the Gold Award from Mom’s Choice Awards, and the Gold Award for Children’s Fiction in Mystery from Moonbeams Children’s Book Awards, both for Nutmeg Street: Egyptian Secrets, Book 1 in her Botanic Hill Detectives Mysteries series. She is a member of SCBWI and the Authors Guild and promises many more adventures with the squad to come.
Beyond the Wastes of Khulakorum, a storm is rising . . .
The Shaper of Ages is gone, and along with her, the Breaker — yet gods are not the only threat to the peace of the living.
Aldis Tennech, the once-great general of the armies of Gal’dorok, finds himself in exile. His only hope of reclaiming glory lies in the hands of a self-proclaimed emperor, and the unearthly powers that put him there. Meanwhile, improbable alliances are forged in the north as unexpected enemies rear their heads and threaten ruin-with a single thread in common, connecting them all.
In the sequel to his award-winning novel Gift of the Shaper, D. L. Jennings once again brings to life an epic tale of war and chaos as earthly armies fight for otherworldly prizes. Ancient powers lying dormant must be called upon, bringing strength to those who need it and conquest to those who seek it; battles will rage and cities will fall, but only the most desperate or reckless would seek . . .
. . . to awaken the three.
Gift of the Shaper by D. L. Jennings (Highglade #1) Genre: Fantasy Add to Goodreads
For thousands of years, the Breaker of the Dawn has been locked away in the ethereal plane of the Otherworld. Now, a young blacksmith’s apprentice finds himself trapped in a war between the noble Athrani, a subset of humanity gifted with the ability to transmute matter, and the malevolent and powerful Khyth, who seek to free the ancient god from his prison.
When his father, Olson, is kidnapped, Thornton Woods and his childhood friend, Miera, must leave their small village of Highglade to find him. On their way, they are joined by Ynara and Kethras, cat-like humanoids called Kienari, who use their skills as hunter/trackers to follow Olson’s trail. When it comes to light that one among them possesses the key to the Breaker’s release, Thornton and his friends must defy the might of the Khyth as armies on both sides collide in pursuit of the ultimate prize.
Gift of the Shaper chronicles the epic struggle between the existing forces of good and evil, with both sides vying for control of the key that unlocks the Otherworld. The very powers of creation and destruction hang in the balance, and only a heroic effort by Thornton and Miera, backed by the power of the Athrani, can possibly stop the Khyth from unleashing ruin — and the Breaker — upon their world.
Once again, D. L. Jennings, who won the “Beverly Hills Award for Fantasy” in 2018, brings life to an epic tale of war and chaos as earthly armies fight for otherworldly prizes. Reminiscent of Game of Thrones, AWAKEN THE THREE is a riveting page-turner, and a must-read for fantasy readers who want to escape to a different world, time and place ruled by other-worldly beings. It’s the perfect book to escape from the anxious times of our COVID-19 reality.
D. L. Jennings is a fourteen-year active-duty veteran of the United States Air Force, serving under the Air Force Special Operations Command. In 2005, he earned his associate degree after graduating at the top of his Korean class at the Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center in Monterey, California, and earning the Korean Consul General’s award for excellence. He is a graduate of Bellevue University in Nebraska, earning a bachelor of science degree in security management in 2008. He finished writing his debut novel, GIFT OF THE SHAPER, which won the Beverly Hills Book Award in 2018 for Fantasy, while serving on his ninth combat tour. He has been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan as well as several countries in Africa. When he is not reading or writing epic fantasy, he enjoys traveling, listening to ‘90s punk, and watching Ohio State football. Jennings lives in South Florida
A unique literary masterpiece, richly seasoned with wisdom, humor and inspiration.
In Younger and Wiser, Gene S. Jones travels beyond traditional formats to explore the full spectrum of human emotions and experiences. Utilizing pithy vignettes anchored by clever backstories, Younger and Wiser relates the eclectic saga of the author’s fascinating personal odyssey. The result is a mind-expanding reading adventure that expresses heartfelt emotions and life lessons while demonstrating a deep appreciation for humanity’s ability to improve itself. Featuring intimate storytelling and witty humor interspersed with profound wisdom, Younger and Wiser delivers bite-sized nuggets of invaluable insights for readers of all ages.
Giveaway: A $25 Amazon gift card, open to everyone. The giveaway will run from today until September 12th.
Nationally acclaimed game show host Gene Jones has spent his life inspiring others to achieve creative excellence. From teaching seminars on innovation, serving as Associate Editor of the Guinness Book of World Records, and thirty years of professional speech writing to entertaining audiences and producing major events nationwide, Jones has enjoyed a colorful career. His many achievements include success as a writer, entertainer, producer, director and business executive. His brilliant use of backstories in Younger and Wiser bridges the gap between literary memoir and eclectic verse to become the missing link between mainstream non-fiction and the poetry genre.
The book, which begins in January 2020, follows in a long tradition of British satire, as the British prime minister, Winston Spragg, first learns about a new virus that seems to be centred in a city in China that nobody has heard of.
The book populates Downing Street and Whitehall with an inept prime minister presiding over a dysfunctional government as it deals with an existential threat that rapidly becomes a national crisis.
It remains true to the timeline of Covid-19 and the government’s response to it, including its failure to lock down sooner, secure adequate supplies of protective equipment or protect the care sector.
Like satires before it, the book uses humour to paint an uncomfortable picture of a government in crisis, and seemingly as concerned about justifying itself as working to suppress the virus.
As the book progresses, with a mounting death toll, I hope the book strikes a changing balance as both a month-by-month narrative about the virus and a comedy to mirror unfolding events.
As the country emerges into a new normal, the country will inevitably want to know why, per head of population, we have suffered worse than any other European country. Being Alert! provides the perfect outlet, not just to ask very real questions of government but to use humour as a satirical and healing tool.
Comings and Goings
In late February, according to a Sunday Times report, at a private event, the Prime Minister’s chief advisor outlined the government’s strategy at the time and which was summarised by someone present as ‘herd immunity, protect the economy, and if that means some pensioners die, too bad.’
In early March, the Prime Minister told the nation that, while the virus was likely to become a more significant problem, ‘this country is very, very well prepared. However, the final sentence of his message didn’t appear on his official Twitter page: “I wish to stress that, at the moment, it is very important that people consider that they should, as far as possible, go about business as usual.’
By and large, Derek Goings was both universally loathed and feared. It was assumed that he either had access to supernatural forces or was, in fact, one of the Undead. Even the Archbishop of Westminster would cross himself when the two met, which was rarely – at the archbishop’s request. Partly, he was loathed because of his role as the PM’s chief advisor, with almost permanent access to the Prime Minister’s ear. Partly, it was also because the PM usually did what his advisor told him to do, and that this was somehow undemocratic. Partly, too, it was because he smelled of sulphur. Nobody could therefore understand how he was married, shared a marital bed and had fathered a child. However, the sceptics pointed out, only his marriage was a matter of record. Whether he slept with his wife, and who the father of his child was, were grey areas best not explored.
Derek, his critics often complained, although never to his face or to his few friends, had somehow appeared from nowhere. One minute, nobody had ever heard of him; the next minute, his name, and the smell of the underworld, was everywhere. Derek’s great achievement, agreed on by friends and foes, was to have leaped successfully onto the political stage without ever having done anything useful. Okay, he had once helped a relative run a nightclub in the north of England, and never mind that it had been voted the second-worst in Europe. (The worst subsequently burned down, accidentally or on purpose, handing the crown to Derek’s relative). Okay, he had also tried to start an airline in either Prague or Moscow (nobody was entirely sure which) but that hadn’t got off the ground, either literally or metaphorically.
Having therefore done nothing of note, he then appeared as if in a puff of black and menacing smoke on the Westminster stage, immediately making enemies of virtually everyone. However, having enemies only seemed to increase his powers because, say what you might about him, he did get things done. In a Whitehall dominated by men in grey suits, and all either from Oxbridge or interbred, the proper way to get things done had always been the old-fashioned way. After all, the British way was the traditional way; decisions were made over Pimm’s at Wimbledon; gin and tonics at Twickenham, and whatever was available at Henley. Decisions were rarely made in Whitehall, where they were supposed to be made. Derek, of course, thought otherwise, facing up to the grey suits in either jeans or tracksuit, with a mission to bring the British Civil Service at least into the 20th century. Perhaps, even for him, the 21st century was too big a task, at least for now. This wrecking-ball of a man, with his glittering career in night-time entertainment and air travel, therefore brought him into endless conflict with the mandarins who were supposed to be running the country.
Derek’s meteoric rise through the government’s advisory ranks was extraordinary; so too the growth of his reputation as someone who could end a political career with the merest nod of his head. He was, it was agreed, either Machiavellian or Svengalian – generally the former, because few civil servants or politicians had ever read a 19th century novel, and therefore didn’t quite know who Svengali was.
Kevin Kock was, of course, all too aware of the PM’s advisor, having been in numerous meetings with him and having seen how even the most confident minister could be brought to his or, sometimes, her knees with a cursory glance. It was therefore with alarm bordering on panic that he received the news from his Permanent Secretary that Derek Goings was on his way round for a ‘bit of a chin-wag.’
“But I’m busy,” he’d squeaked to Sir Roger.
“No, you’re not. I manage your diary, Minister.”
The Health Secretary could have said that he had a completely separate diary in which he, as Health Secretary, kept his Top Secret meetings; or that he was ill; or could have chosen from any one of the many excuses that he’d used over the years, mostly to cover up his blood and germ phobias. Now, of course, thanks to his Permanent Secretary, his alien life-form phobia because, in his mind, Covid-19 was now sentient and possibly intelligent – like a jellyfish, but with a more deadly sting. He then spent some minutes spraying his office with air freshener and disinfectant, and covering his desk with large piles of files. He even undid the top button of his shirt to demonstrate his dedication to the British people except, of course, Derek Goings.
His arrival was signalled, not by a deferential knock on his office door or a bleep from his internal phone, but by the smell of decay. The Health Secretary closed his eyes for just a moment and took several deep breaths only to find, when he opened his eyes again, that the PM’s advisor was already standing on the other side of his desk.
“Derek, good gracious! How nice to see you!” The Health Secretary automatically stuck out a hand, before realising that Derek Goings still had both hands in the pockets of his jeans. Only the Prime Minister was still shaking everyone’s hand, particularly on hospital visits.
The PM’s advisor sat in the chair opposite and sniffed the air. “Very wise,” he remarked. “As Health Secretary, it’s good to see that you’re setting an example.”
“You can’t be too careful, Minister, because you never know who might be harbouring infection. Sterilising your office is possibly or probably a good thing.” The advisor’s eyes, hidden behind dark glasses, were black discs. His soft voice carried with it both menace and good hygienic advice.
“Am I to assume that you’re here for a reason?” the Health Secretary asked, hoping to sound business-like and brusque, having rehearsed this opening line as he sprayed the room. “Because I am, as I’m sure you are, rather busy.”
“No, you’re not, Health Secretary. I looked at your diary.”
“Sir Roger had no right….”
“I have every right, Minister.”
Before Kevin could think of a suitably outraged reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Sir Roger himself appeared, carrying a notebook. Without asking, he took the other available seat next to Derek and neatly crossed his legs.
“I am here, Minister, to determine whether this country is prepared.” The PM’s advisor’s voice was barely a whisper. “After all, we are now beginning to see the first Covid-19 fatalities on British soil.”
“I did know that, Derek.”
“We will certainly see more fatalities, Minister, which brings me neatly to the reason why I am here. I merely wish to determine if you have made adequate preparations. Particularly the provision of personal protective equipment.”
This was a question that the Health Secretary, even panic-stricken, had foreseen. “Of course, Derek. We have, for example, a reserve of over one billion items of PPE. One billion, Derek.” The Health Secretary smiled brightly at his nemesis on the other side of the desk, using the advisor’s first name twice in the space of a few seconds, a useful trick that he’d learned on some management course he’d attended. Sir Roger picked imaginary spots of dust from his immaculate trousers and looked out the window.
“Yet, I am led to believe, Minister, that this figure includes things like cleaning products, waste bags, detergents and paper towels,” said the advisor, still in his stage whisper.
“Does it?” replied Kevin. “I mean, yes it does. At least, possibly it does. But a billion is still rather a lot of stuff, I’m sure you would agree.”
“Not necessarily,” said the advisor. “For example, your inventory lists 547 million protective gloves.”
“So, a more accurate figure would be 273.5 million pairs of gloves, or am I missing something?”
“Pairs of gloves?”
“Your inventory lists each glove separately.”
The Health Secretary looked wildly at his Permanent Secretary, who merely shrugged. “I did send you the inventory last year, Minister. Which you approved,” he added with a smile.
“Well, you know what they say, Derek.”
“No, I don’t know what they say, Minister.”
“That there are only three kinds of people in the world. Those who can count, and those who can’t.” The Health Secretary gave a small laugh, which wasn’t echoed from across the table.
“I hardly think that this is a time for levity, Minister.” The smell of sulphur had risen several notches, and a green vapour seemed to be filling the room. “I also just hope the media don’t get hold of the story. I dread to think what Panorama would make of it.”
“I’m sure they won’t, Derek.”
“However, if things deteriorate, PPE will get eaten up pretty quickly,” said the advisor, whose eyes had never left Kevin’s face, or maybe they had because, behind dark glasses, he could be looking anywhere.
“We are, of course, setting up new procurement channels to ensure against any and every contingency, aren’t we, Sir Roger?”
His Permanent Secretary shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Of course, Minister,” and then actually wrote something in his notebook.
“Very well, then I will assume that you have the needs of the health service and its gallant staff fully covered. But what about the care sector?”
“What about the care sector?” asked the Health Secretary.
The advisor was quiet for a moment. “Well, you are the person responsible for it.”
“What!” Kevin almost pushed himself upright.
“You are, as I assume you must realise, Secretary of State for Health and Social Care.”
Sir Roger cleared his throat. “I did send you a memo, Minister.”
Giveaway: Win a digital copy of Being Alert in format of choice! Giveaway will be open from today until August 24th.
I was born in Paisley, central Scotland, which wasn’t my fault. That week, Eddie Calvert with Norrie Paramor and his Orchestra were Top of the Pops, with Oh, Mein Papa, as sung by a young German woman remembering her once-famous clown father. That gives a clue to my age, not my musical taste.
I was brought up in the west of Scotland and graduated from the University of Edinburgh. I still have the scroll, but it’s in Latin, so it could say anything.
I then worked briefly as a street actor, baby photographer, puppeteer and restaurant dogsbody before becoming a journalist. I started in Glasgow and ended up in London, covering news, features and politics. I interviewed motorbike ace Barry Sheene, Noel Edmonds threatened me with legal action and, because of a bureaucratic muddle, I was ordered out of Greece.
I then took a year to travel round the world, visiting 19 countries. Highlights included being threatened by a man with a gun in Dubai, being given an armed bodyguard by the PLO in Beirut (not the same person with a gun), and visiting Robert Louis Stevenson’s grave in Samoa. What I did for the rest of the year I can’t quite remember
Surprisingly, I was approached by a government agency to work in intelligence, which just shows how shoddy government recruitment was back then. However, it turned out to be very boring and I don’t like vodka martini.
Craving excitement and adventure, I ended up as a PR consultant, which is the fate of all journalists who haven’t won a Pulitzer Prize, and I’ve still to listen to Oh, Mein Papa.
I am married with two grown-up children and live in central Scotland. And that’s about it.
Two composers transposed across time into each other’s world by the mysterious forces of a priceless 18th Century cello.
In the final instalment of the Song for a Lost Kingdom trilogy, Adeena Stuart and Katharine Carnegie search for the music that neither can complete on their own.
Finding themselves living three centuries apart and each assuming the identity of the other, Adeena and Katharine must overcome their own unique challenges, all the while hiding the truth of who they really are from those around them.
Adeena is pregnant in Scotland following the slaughter at the Battle of Culloden in April 1746. Her husband James Drummond and his brother John Drummond, are being hunted as Jacobite traitors by the revengeful butchers of King George’s Hanoverian army.
Sentenced to cruel deaths, they escape to Ireland only to find even greater danger in the ruthless cunning of Henry ‘Hangman’ Hawley who will stop at nothing to extinguish any further rebellion against English dominance over Ireland and Scotland.
Adeena’s one comfort is the Duncan Cello and her music that inspires all who hear her perform. The cello is her companion through battles, fires, storms and floods. It is perhaps the only thing she can truly rely on.
Katharine meanwhile awakes in the year 2019, confused by even the simplest technologies and overwhelmed by the strange customs of the modern world.
Pregnant from an unknown father, and uncertain about whether true love lies in the past or present, she finds respite in her music and the only thing familiar about this strange place – the Duncan Cello, now a prize artifact of the National Gallery of Canada.
Adeena and Katharine find a way to compose a score that reflects their turmoil in both their lives – ‘The Heart Beats in Time.’
Together they will see the story through to the final bars.
Song for a Lost Kingdom, Book III is a novel of music, history, and love that finds a way to conquer the barriers of time.
Curl up with a copy and lose yourself in this fast-paced adventure that will keep you hooked until the final page.
Katharine stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was called ‘Adeena’ in this heavenly afterlife. Was the woman who stared back really her?
Katharine touched her pale cheek. It was warm against her soft fingers. She opened her emerald eyes wide, staring at their translucent clarity, dancing in the light as if they were teasing her with their secrets. She smiled, admiring the white straight teeth they had given her, and the long, copper-tinged hair, a reminder perhaps of her own time on earth?
“I’m Adeena,” she said to the reflection. “Adeena Stuart. And I live in heaven now.”
She laughed as she slipped on the clothes that her ‘mother’ had left for her. She dropped them off last night and said that in the morning she would return to take her home. Home?
Somehow the thought of it made her eyes wet, but not in a sad way. She might be dead, but she was so thankful for all the happiness she felt for this place.
She wiped her eyes and surveyed the odd collection of garments that had been left for her. The most confusing was the corset – if that’s what it was. It was black and had two thin straps and cups that must be used to hold her bosom in place? There was also a tiny, sheer garment that seemed almost invisible. Were these the drawers ladies wore in heaven?
A fleecy bright crimson sweater and dark britches, fashioned out of some sort of flexible cotton or linen fabric, completed her ensemble. It was the type of clothing Jaqueline and Tara, the dark-haired one, wore whenever they came to visit. There were also socks and shoes that fit her feet perfectly.
When she was done, she sat down and waited for Jacqueline, Adeena’s mother, a spirited woman who always seemed pleased to see her. If Jacqueline’s role was that of maternal guide, so be it.
Katharine glanced at her cello in the corner. Tara had left it behind for her. It was the only connection to her old life and perhaps the reason why she made it up here in the first place. It was unlike all the magical devices in this world – the ones that glowed, and chimed, and must be powered by the spirit of God Himself.
The cello from Maestro Duncan was plain. It had no special power. She found her bow and pulled the cello between her legs. Without thinking, she slowly began to play the music she had been rehearsing at Kinnaird when somehow she slipped away and the world around her went dark.
As she played her unnamed composition, it flowed through her and took her far away from this place. All the strange surroundings disappeared, leaving only her and her music.
She had found heaven.
I have always been drawn to passion and creativity in all its forms. I am equally fascinated by the mechanics of the universe and the characters of history. I have a special affection for the power of music which I believe is the universal language of human emotion.
My writing journey started in journalism, public relations and advertising then continued into software development (yes that involves writing)! Now am I a full-time author, finishing up Book III in my Song for a Lost Kingdom trilogy, which also includes a novella Prequel.
Audiobook versions of all the books in this series are on the way, including the Prequel which is now available.
I grew up in London, Ontario (Canada) and also lived in Pompano Beach, Florida as a teenager. I moved to Ottawa and attended Carleton University many years ago and now live just south of the city with my wife, daughter and four dogs with attitude.
I look forward to your feedback. Visit my website stevemoretti.ca for the latest news, or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org anytime!
When the only option left means losing someone you love, you have no options. How could you, how could you save one person you care about, when doing so would harm another? What if they weren’t even letting you choose but choosing for you? You’d have to intervene without letting them know, right?
To be an Altered Helix and put others in danger is the new reality for Austria. Luckily someone’s there to catch her when she falls, Josh, and fall she does, in love that is. While witnessing her family being put in danger, Austria’s haunted house family grows. Now that Austria has found a way to defeat Mutant Altered Helixes after her, a dangerous stream of events occur to those around her. Just when the family has finally come together, could they be ruined?
The amazing conclusion to the Altered Helix series, Paralleled Bond displays the results when polar opposites come together for the greater good.
“Please let them be okay.” If I had known I would be chanting this phrase over and over again, I don’t believe I would have ever set out on this mission. If I had known that my entire world would change in just a matter of months, would I have taken the job at the haunted house? If I had been given a heads up about my DNA being different, would I have lived a different life?
I don’t know; those are not options for me now. We’re too far in. We are inches away from saving many lives. We can do this. I know we can. I just don’t know what it will cost us. I have no clue how I’m going to find the dough to pay. The odds seem stacked up against us. Is that because it is impossible to accomplish what we want to, or is it because we’ve gotten too close?
$30 Amazon GC (International) Giveaway will run from August 4th to the 7th.
I didn’t want to take the traditional path. First, I wasn’t ready for college. Second, I was going to live with my best friend, Tiff, and work at the Haunted House. Third, did I mention the hot guy Josh that works there too?
The most exciting thing about Austria’s new job, at a local haunted house, was the fact that the toughest looking people screamed the loudest. But when she meets the boy without a home, Josh, Austria’s life takes intriguing and eventful turns. Up until now, Josh has managed to hang with his Street crowd, but they’re in danger, and so is Austria, the girl Josh recently fell for. The group finds themselves joining forces with previously considered enemies who also now find themselves in danger.
Deeply compassionate and full of twists, Altered Helix captures the struggle of polarized people that must work together for the greater good.
For Austria, travelling to the Stranded Coil means she gets to see someone she believed was lost. She’s able to do this because she’s an Altered Helix. But doing so takes her away from her first true love, Josh. Josh is working hard to keep their Haunted House family safe on Earth, but seems to fall in love with Austria more with every second they spend together.
Austria and Josh face a devastating challenge, the mysterious appearance of Mutant Altered Helixes, and an enticingly dangerous answer to their questions.
Impulsive, caring, and full of surprises, this teenage love against the odds is well on its way to breaking even…maybe.
Stephanie Hansen’s short story, Break Time, and poetry has been featured in Mind’s Eye literary magazine. The Kansas Writers Association published her short story, Existing Forces, appointing her as a noted author. She has held a deep passion for writing since early childhood, but a brush with death caused her to allow it to grow. She’s part of an SCBWI critique group in Lawrence, KS and two local book clubs. She attends many writers’ conferences including the Writing Day Workshops, New York Pitch, Penned Con, New Letters, All Write Now, Show Me Writers Master Class, BEA, and Nebraska Writers Guild conference as well as Book Fairs and Comic-Cons. She is a member of the deaf and hard of hearing community.
Belinda was an up and coming A1 student that thrived on creativity and love. With a burning passion for the Culinary Arts & Music, she was definitely on the verge to living an exciting fulfilling life, until the tables begin to turn. Living in a home doesn’t make it “Home Sweet Home”, a lesson Belinda learned too early in life. She didn’t have to go to jail but she did for a charge wrongfully entered by one who should have protected her. Once free, her life became a whirlwind of events filled with deep sexual relationships and beautiful packages of well-deserved happiness. Can you remember the last time you were allowed to just be free?
Her body rocking with pain, Belinda shuddered as she pleaded on her knees for Kevin not to kill her. Everything about this moment was surreal. Would he shoot her? Would she die? Would he take her daughter and run?
Her mind raced back and forth as she thought of words to say to calm the unpredictable monster she had married.
The gun’s barrel was nudged so hard in the base of her back; Belinda thought to herself, I’m not going to make it. She silently prayed and in the blink of an eye he was gone…. She sat there for what seemed like hours, too afraid to speak and even more afraid to move.
Not knowing if he was around the corner, waiting on her to emerge from the third bedroom. All she saw in her mind was dead ends. What would she do?
Nubi (Nubia Soul Goddess) is an Internationally Amazon Bestselling Author under GNectar Publishing, LLC.
She has published 3 books with more coming. She is also a book coach and speaker on being an entrepreneur – artist- domestic violence survivor and book writing and publishing. Her first poem was published (Nationally) in high school.
Music is her first love, but writing probably surpasses even that. She has always been an avid reader with a great drive for creativity. So with the encouragement of close friends and loved ones, she began to do more than just share her life stories, she began to write them down and create more for others to enjoy and learn from.