SCHISM Blog Tour!

Author Interview

Tell us five fun facts we might not know about you.

1. In college some friends and I drove to West, Texas in the middle of the night to buy kolachies fresh from the oven. (Sound familiar?) 
2.  I’ve cosplayed at several anime and sci-fi/fantasy conventions. Costumes include TJ Wagner (Nightcrawler’s daughter), Chiana from Farscape, Karou from Ruouni Kenshin, Mama from Kodomo No Omocha, and Regina from Once Upon a Time.
3. In a high school musical, I played one of seven people who made up the Snake from the garden of Eden, and my boyfriend at the time played Cain…the first murderer. What a pair, huh.
4. I’ve eaten conveyer belt sushi in Japan… it was gross there too.
5. On a family vacation to Yellowstone when I was a child, a bison came over the hill near the walkway. My brother, dad, and I ran, but my mom was laughing so hard at us that she couldn’t move, and the bison crossed right in front of her.

In your book, there’s another dimension. Can you describe this world?

The world is called Illirin. Being another dimension, it has some properties that can’t exist on Earth. The atmosphere has a lessened amount of oxygen and the light appears much brighter there, making it difficult for regular humans to live long. The biggest difference is the aether which gives Illirin its magic. Aside from magic, the world is very similar to Earth. Buildings are constructed out of natural materials like granite or marble rather than concrete. Cities resemble older European centers with little winding roads, but they still have skyscrapers and modern fixtures. It’s certainly an interesting mix.

One of your protagonists, Lea, is a student physicist. How does the scientist reconcile the magic of this world?

Lea’s introduction to magic in Illirin is certainly an eye opener for her. She has a little heads-up moment before she actually sees any magic. The good thing about Lea’s scientific brain is her need for logic, and with logical reasoning combined with the information she finds, she has no option but to believe in the magic that exists in Illirin. Besides, she doesn’t have much of a choice. J

Share with us some of your favorite quotes from the book.

“You can choose to be anything…maybe even the kind of guy who randomly helps a girl, who may or may not be a lunatic, prove something, which may or may not be real.” ~Lea

“I can sum everything up in a series of clichés if you want. ‘Ignorance is bliss,’ ‘you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone,’ and ‘if you love someone, let them go.’” ~Gabe

“I’ve been waiting here, thinking of synonyms for ‘mad,’ and all I could think of was ‘mad,’ that’s how mad I am!” ~Lea

“You asked me to sever a limb. The least you could do is stop bitching about me tying a tourniquet.” ~Gabe

SCHISM (Illirin Book One)

By Laura Maisano

Art therapy hasn’t done squat for Gabe Jones. A thousand sketches of his fiancée can’t bring his memory, or her, back to him. Nothing on Earth can. His past lies in another dimension, a world just out of sight.

Another student on campus, Lea Huckley, unknowingly shares Gabe’s obsession with the fourth dimension. The monsters from the other side attacked her parents and fled, getting her folks locked up in the loony bin. Proving this other world exists is the only way to free them. Lea and Gabe strike a deal to help each other, and together they manage to open a door to the world of Gabe’s true origin. She’d use him for proof—if she didn’t already care too much.

While Gabe tries to reconcile his feelings for Lea and his rediscovered memories of his fiancée, a much more sinister plot unravels. He uncovers his history just in time to become the unwilling lynchpin in a conspiracy to start a war. His memory holds the secret to the final riddle the would-be conqueror needs to get the upper hand. Gabe must protect the riddle at all costs, even if that means leaving Earth, and Lea, behind forever.

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Excerpt

Lea packed light. Other than her phone’s GPS and a flashlight, she kept a small notepad, her lucky pencil, and the thermometer in her cargo pocket. She didn’t need to find data, now she needed proof.

She led the way down the alley where skyscrapers blocked the glowing moon and the lamps from the highway. Yellowed fixtures above each back entrance threw faint cones of light onto the cement, like holes in Swiss cheese.

Lea checked the coordinates on her phone while she walked, and the little red arrow crept closer to the flag icon she placed to mark the interaction point.

Gabe spent his time surveying the area for anything that might be a danger. He kept fidgeting behind her and turning around every few seconds, a twitchy meerkat on patrol.

“We’re only between buildings. It’s not the end of the world.” Lea checked her phone again to make sure they were headed in the right direction.

He glanced over his shoulder. “I still don’t like it. It’s night, people do get mugged, you know.”

“The statistics of that are so low. We’re really not in any danger, considering the population and how many times that sorta thing happens.”

He shifted uneasily behind her. “Whatever, we’re raising the chances by being out here at night.”

Lea rolled her eyes. “I’m not missing this opportunity.”

“I know that. Neither am I.”

“Good.”

They came to a cross section behind two major offices where the loading docks and dumpsters sat for both of them. A stream of water trickled down the concave cement into the large sewer grate. Old garbage left a fume hanging around, and the humidity only made it worse.

Lea double- and triple-checked her coordinates, cross-checking with her notes. “This is it. Within I’d say, a fifteen foot diameter, low to the ground.” She shoved the phone in her cargo pocket. “Perfect.”

“How long?”

“Roughly ten minutes.”

Ten minutes may as well have been six hours. She paced back and forth, her sneakers scuffing the gritty pavement.

Gabe continued to keep a watchful eye out for muggers or vagrants. What a dork.

She snickered quietly. For someone who didn’t know his own experiences, he sure seemed paranoid. She watched him standing straight, darting his eyes to the entrance and even up to the windows above them. Watch out bad guys, Gabe’s on to you. She smiled and turned to see what looked like heat waves rising from the cold cement. Crap. The interaction had already started.

“Gabe…” She waved him over next to the loading dock.

This interaction provided no shining lights or obvious movement. Not much stood out visually, except maybe the air glistening like summer heat waves if she squinted hard enough, but her digital thermometer found the coldest point.

“Here,” she whispered, not wanting anyone or anything on the other side to hear. She stretched her arms forward, and Gabe did likewise.

“On the count of three.” She waited for him to nod. “One…two…three.”

They both reached through the interaction point and grabbed at the thicker air. Nothing. They tried again, pulling, grasping, and making any sort of motion to trigger a rip. Finally, Gabe leaned in and pulled out at just the right angle, because the light tore across like a jagged line. Lea grabbed the edge of it and tugged, opening the tear wider until they both fell through.

About the Author

Laura has an MA in Technical writing and is a Senior Editor at Anaiah Press for their YA/NA Christian Fiction. She’s excited to release her debut YA Urban Fantasy SCHISM, and she’s finishing up the sequel UNITY.

Her gamer husband and amazing daughter give support and inspiration every day. Their cats, Talyn and Moya, provide entertainment through living room battles and phantom-dust-mote hunting. Somehow, they all manage to survive living in Texas where it is hotter than any human being should have to endure. Check out her blog at LauraMaisano.blogspot.com.

Website: http://www.LauraMaisano.Blogspot.com

Twitter: @MaisanoLaura

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LauraMaisanoWriter

Google + https://plus.google.com/+LauraMaisano

Trapped in my hobbit hole writing.

Sorry for not posting as of late. I promise big things are coming. Currently, I'm working on the sequel to The Last Stored, I'm 22,000 words in. I hope to have it finished by June 1st.

Hey, I girl can wish can't she! As of now, this is what I'm doing a lot of. 

My first writers conference...

This past week, I had the pleasure of attending my first writer’s intensive workshop at Ball State. Earlier in the month, I sent my synopsis and first nine pages of my work-in-progress. Needless to say, I was overly nervous, I always get that way.  Am I the only one? 

I checked in and was escorted to the Boardroom, and guess what, it looked like a boardroom. A large table took up most of the room, with leather swivel chairs surrounding the table. On one wall a screen displayed a computer desktop. Great, my work will be displayed up there, and they will read my stuff.  Why do I always get nervous when people read my work? 

The room was filled with all sorts of people, many who I found out later are amazing writers. I wiggle into a conference chair, and sit next to an older lady with white hair and a calming personality. She was working on a documentary on Nun's. The way she presents it sounds utterly fascinating. I'm going to have to keep in contact with her. Oh, and her son is a famous director, writer, and producer.  Seriously, how cool is that. Two co-authors across the table, recently acquired an agent, and are writing a book about a teen killer who stabbed her mother to death while shouting, "are you dead yet." Wow, all of these people are doing incredible things. Still another wrote about a portal to the afterlife on his farm. I love portal stories, after all, my book, The Last Stored is a portal fantasy.

The class begins as the two professors ask us to read our bio and our elevator pitch. My

heart thumps. Here come the nerves. Great, I didn't know we'd have to talk. At this point, I consider going to the bathroom, then coming back at lunch, but no, I've paid for the class. I look around the room, everyone else seems to have the same pained expression, or is that my imagination. I calm down. Someone penned a story about a Native American billionaire who couldn't read or write. So many wonderful stories and passions. Each and every one is turned on with their work, you can see the fire in their eyes. My turn, I read my bio and pitch about my latest work. Hey, they liked it, and no one booed.   

After the intro's, we move on to the meat of the class, the synopsis and first few pages. They're going in alphabetical order, since my name begins with P, I'll have a while to wait.  More remarkable stories, and writing. Plus, we don't have anyone annoying in class, you know, the one who always asks questions to make themselves look good. 

Time for lunch, literally a brown-bag with fresh fruit, and a huge turkey club, surprisingly delicious. They hand each of us a yellow folder containing critiqued pages. I scan the papers. Red and green mark the page. On one sheet there’s a long note comparing my writing style to Ray Bradbury, Rod Serling, and The Giver. I'll take that. Yes, I'll take that. I breathe, and let my heart fall back into place. They think I have something here. I relax for the first time since I've come into the room. 

When lunch ends, we go over more of our work. The professors are kind, but thorough in their evaluations. Finally, it is my turn, Holly reads my first two paragraphs. 

 

"This is written well," she said. "We get a creepy, ominous vibe from her writing."

YES, yes, yes! She said a bunch more nice things, but I really can't remember all she said, ‘cause my insides were glowing. 

Doc, let me know the difference between like and as. I always screw that one up. Yesterday I spent my whole day, hopefully, correcting them in my novel. Then they moved on to the next name.

And just like that the day was over...

What? I just got here? Wait, I don't want to leave. These people understand me, they all have a passion for storytelling. In those few hours, we formed a group of like-minded thinkers. Funny, when you think about it. All of us come from different backgrounds, places, and even genders, but when we talk about our writing, we come alive. No one put anyone else down, we all listened, supported, and encouraged each other in our endeavors.

What's next? This week, I'm applying what I've learned, fixing all the mechanical issues. One day I'll be perfect, but until that day, I'll keep writing and fine tuning.

Someone told me once that writing workshops and conferences are addictive. Now, I know exactly what they mean.  I’m gathering all my available funds to attend one in July. The next conference, I plan on not being so nervous.

What was your first conference like? Your first meeting with other writers? I’d love to hear about it.   

Daniel the Camp-er Blog Tour

Daniel The Camp-er Blog Tour

I'm thrilled to be hosting S.J. Henderson on this Friday the 13th. Her book is excellent. I totally loved it, from start to finish, and give it five big fat stars! I even gave it to my oldest daughter who is a teacher to read! So take it away S.J. Henderson ...

First thing’s first, thanks for having me, Sonia. I love visiting with my writing friends, so I’m beyond grateful for the invite. And a big congrats on the release of THE LAST STORED. So excited for you!

Now to the questions…

How long have you been writing?

Gosh, it feels like forever. I can’t think of a magic age when I said, “Yes, this is what I want to do with my life.” On the contrary, as a kid, I remember mostly the feeling of not having what it takes to be a writer. Writers needed to have connections and know the secret knock to open the door of publishing houses. I was a shy kid whose closest friend was a pony, and I didn’t know anything about a special knock.

But I still wrote because I loved creating worlds, even if they existed only for me and my friends. My crowning kid achievement was a story series I wrote in the sixth and seventh grades. In this story, my main character befriended, among other odd things, what amounted to a disembodied pair of Groucho Marx glasses. It was horrible, horrible stuff, but no one else I knew was writing books about anything, no less phantoms with a superb sense of humor.

About four-ish years ago, I had a particularly trying week at my day job as a birth doula. That’s when I remembered a friend talking about a college class on novel writing she had taken. I called this friend and said, “It’s time. I need to write.” She directed me to the book they used for her course, NO PLOT? NO PROBLEM! by Chris Baty, founder of National Novel Writing Month. Within a day or two of devouring that book, I was elbow-deep within my first novel. I’ve been writing ever since.

Do you write full-time?

I wish! My goal is to write full time, but I’m not quite there yet. Someday.

Where did you draw your inspiration for Daniel the Camp-er?

Draw? I see what you did there, you witty thing, you.

DANIEL THE CAMP-ER is the second book in the DANIEL THE DRAW-ER series. The original concept--a boy with a magic pencil that brings his drawings to life—came from my four boys. My second-oldest son loves to draw. For a long time, my son only had one friend, much like Daniel. The third-oldest boy sat next to me while I wrote and laughed at all the funny parts, so I kept writing funny parts. It was the most fun I’ll ever have writing a book.

I wrote the initial story, which is now the first chapter of the first book, as my assignment for a writing course I was in at the time. When I shared it with the group, my classmates urged me to write more about this goofy kid. I’m glad I listened.

My own fifth-grade camp experience inspired a big chunk of the story for the second book. I’m not sure I want to say specifically what parts were based on real life, but I bet you can guess.

Plotter or panster?

Plantser. I detest outlines. Detest them. If I plan a story like DANIEL out too much, it kills my creativity. However, I tend to go into a scene knowing roughly what needs to happen and where things are headed. I leave the rest up to the characters. Most of the time it works.

What does your writing process look like?

This question stumps me every time because I’m not sure if people want to know what I do when I sit down to write or what the big picture is. In either case my answers are pretty boring because, well, I’m boring.

I write. Usually in my pajamas, surrounded by a beverage of choice and something to snack on so my eyes stay open. If it’s noisy around me—and it’s always noisy around me—I listen to music (something mellow or familiar like Bon Iver. Upbeat or brand new music distracts me). If the house is quiet, I like that, too. Quiet is rare.

For some reason, I always seem to write my first drafts while my kids are home on extended breaks (summer or winter break). I don’t know why, but I suspect it’s because I hate myself. Either that or I need to go to my happy place because they’re driving me crazy. Haha. In case you wondered, it’s super hard to write a novel with a house full of boys. With DANIEL THE CAMP-ER, which I wrote during the summer and fall of 2014, I settled on a goal of 400 words per day. It kept me writing and making slow progress but didn’t feel impossible to reach on even those packed summer days.

Once a draft is completed, I usually send it out to a few people to see if I’m on the right track. Then I take their feedback on what works and what doesn’t and revise. I usually repeat this process a few times until the story feels right and it’s ready for the next step.

Favorite writing snack?

Cinnamon Fire Jolly Ranchers. They’ve ruined my life and discontinued them. Now you’re forced to buy them on Amazon for waaaaaay too much if you gotta have your fix. I’m trying to find a suitable alternative, but no luck so far.

What is your favorite genre to write in and why?

I love writing Young Adult because it’s really the sweet spot of writing. So many things fly in YA because that time of life is about learning who you are and pushing boundaries. There’s a sort of endless vitality and discovery you can’t find anywhere else.

That said, writing for Middle Grade readers has been amazing and so unexpected. Their enthusiasm for my stories and me, as a writer, can’t be duplicated. They are the best audience.

What are you currently working on? Do you have a release date yet?

My next project is a Young Adult paranormal novel, a story I love to pieces. It needs a bit of rewriting and a ton of editing, but I’m hoping it’ll be ready for release this summer. Fingers crossed!

What do you want your readers to know?

I want my readers to know that I love hearing from them. E-mails, Facebook posts, Tweets, reviews—whatever! Nothing makes my day like hearing from someone who enjoyed my book.

Which song would work best for the soundtrack of Daniel the Camp-er?

Ooo. This is tough. Probably “The Best Day of My Life” by American Authors.

And just for fun:

Summer or Winter? Summer.

Salty or sweet? Sweet.

Cat or dog? Horse (that’s a choice, right?). Okay, then I pick dog.

Morning or night? Night.

Chick flick or Action movie? Chick flick, fo sho.

Blurb:

There are a few simple rules Daniel follows.

Rule One: never let an adult see your weakness. Daniel made that mistake and look where he ended up—summer camp.

Rule Two: never make fun of the person who feeds you, unless you like Miss Gunderson’s peppery pancakes and green hamburgers.

Rule Three: stay away from girls who love Glitter Ponies. They have cooties, after all.

And Rule Four: never, ever lose your magic pencil.

But Daniel has broken all of his own rules. Now he’s stuck and starving at Camp Bigfoot with the school bully as his bunkmate and an ooey-gooey girl who won’t leave him alone. If all of that wasn’t bad enough, his prized possession, a pencil that brings his drawings to life, has gone missing and wacky creatures are popping up all over camp.

Can Daniel survive Camp Bigfoot and find his magic pencil before it’s too late?

About the Series:

DANIEL THE CAMP-ER is the second book in the DANIEL THE DRAW-ER series. The first book in the series, DANIEL THE DRAW-ER, is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and as an audiobook on Audible and iTunes.

Although Daniel’s adventures were written for boys and girls between 6 and 12, readers of all ages have found themselves swept up in these silly and imaginative stories.  Fans of Captain Underpants and Diary of a Wimpy Kid will appreciate the humor in the DANIEL THE DRAW-ER books, and parents and teachers will appreciate the lack of potty humor and themes of friendship and loyalty. And fun. Can’t forget fun.

Book Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Daniel-Camp-er-Draw-er-Book-ebook/dp/B00TM8RGLW/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24941296-daniel-the-camp-er

Excerpt 

A girl with a short red braid sits down in the grass next to me and stares at the picture as I work. She’s wearing a bright pink Glitter Ponies shirt. Glitter Ponies is a girl cartoon, and it’s nowhere near as cool as Bionic Aardvarks of Underworld Z. I can’t believe she can wear that shirt without being embarrassed.

“What’s your name?” She twirls the end of her braid between her fingers.

I stop drawing, not sure who she’s talking to.

“What’s your name?” She repeats.

Wait. Is she talking to me? I glance over my shoulder, but no one else is around.

“What. Is. Your. Name?” she asks again. I try to ignore her, but she’s looking at me and fluttering her eyelashes. Yeah, like that’ll magically make me pay attention to her.

“I asked you a question.” She touches me on the arm and I pull away from her as fast as I can. It’s a proven fact that girls are the number one carrier of cooties, and no one likes cooties. I’ve never seen a real-live cootie up close before, so I don’t know what they look like, but I’m not about to find out at Camp Bigfoot when I’m so far away from Mom and her special cootie shampoo. Besides, if anyone’s gonna have them crawling around on their clothes or hiding in their ears, it’s this girl.

“My mom told me it’s not good to talk to strangers,” I say.

“You’re funny.” She grins, and her mouth lights up like a disco ball. Glitter Pony Girl has braces with pink rubber bands that match her cootie-infested shirt. “Wanna go to the dance with me?”

Author Bio:

S. J. Henderson is the author of the DANIEL THE DRAW-ER series, as well as several not-yet-published Young Adult novels.

S. J. lives in Michigan with her husband and four wild boys. When she is not writing about talking cats and magic pencils, S. J. can usually be found riding one of her family’s horses or drinking a little bit of coffee with her creamer.

Author Social Media Links:

Website: http://sjhenderson.net

Blog:  http://sjhenderson.net/blog/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SunnyJHenderson

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Winter in the Soul book blast!

Winter in the Soul by Jennifer Novotney

In a world divided by power and greed, seventeen-year-old Lilika harbors an intense desire to return to Winter in the Soul, the place her family left to escape the darkness that was manifesting from a coldness of the soul.

When she meets Talon, their connection is evident right from the start, and together they travel through the Black Kingdom to recover Lilika’s stolen locket. And in search of an answer to the mystery behind Winter in the Soul.

Lilika holds the key to stopping the darkness from spreading. The fate of their world lies in her hands. Will she stop the Black Kingdom before its darkness overtakes them all, or will they succumb to the darkness that is spreading across the land?

Praise for the Book

“This book is original, cleverly written and most of all a great read.”

“This novel is very suspenseful and can be enjoyed by young and old alike.”

“I really, really liked the story line, it is fresh take in the high fantasy/magic genre.”
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Or at Anaiah Press!

EXCERPT: CHAPTER ONE

Spring Bloom

Pulling her blond locks away from her face, Lilika headed outside her cozy house to do her morning chores. When she hit the doorway, she stopped and lifted her face skyward, soaking in the sun’s beams. She reveled in the heat beating down on her and the feeling of warmth that bathed her skin.

She walked to the garden and sat down. Lilika pulled the weeds with the sun shining on her. Her fingers ran across something smooth.

“What is this?” she muttered to herself, digging quickly to try to see just what was in there. She exposed something gleaming from underneath the brown soil.

What could be under the dirt here? She pulled out a gold heart locket from the garden bed. It glittered in an almost magical way, like nothing she’d ever seen before.

“Lilika!” Jet yelled through the open kitchen window. “It’s almost time for school.”

She shoved the locket in her pocket. “Okay! I’m coming.” Her little brother could be such a nuisance sometimes. She would have to wait until later to inspect her find up-close.

“Hello,” a female voice came from behind her.

“Hello?” She jumped up and turned around, shielding her eyes from the sun.

It was so bright, all she saw was a figure blocking out the light, a black silhouette outlined by the sun’s rays. As her eyes adjusted to the change in light, the figure became clearer and clearer: A beautiful, golden-hued woman stood before Lilika.

“Lilika,” the woman said.

How does she know my name?

“Lil! It’s time to go,” her brother yelled again.

She whipped her head around. “Okay, I’m coming.” By the time she turned back, the golden woman was gone.

She stood, walked to the side of the house, and peered around the corner, but the golden woman wasn’t there. She swiveled her head to each side, but didn’t see her. Could this all have just been a figment of her imagination? Maybe sitting in the sun was affecting her. Butterflies danced in her stomach at the thought of the locket she’d found, and she hurried into the house to get ready for school.

***

The mile-long walk to school was a quiet one except for Jet humming to himself. Children said goodbye to their parents and walked out of their rural homes surrounded by lush green grass and foliage, through the center of Spring Bloom. Boys in button down shirts and long pants and girls in light colored, pastel dresses lined the walkways when Lilika and Jet got closer and closer to their destination. Lilika walked along with a solemn expression on her face.

She couldn’t help but think about the golden woman, whether she’d simply imagined her or if their conversation had really happened. What did it mean? She couldn’t tell Jet or their mother or father. They wouldn’t believe her. Something was actually happening to her for a change.

The sun cast bright light over all the individual stone cottages and gardens.

“Good morning, Lilika!” Mr. Woodland waved from his garden.

“Good morning.” Lilika hurried toward school.

“Lil! Slow down,” Jet said.

“Come on,” she said with pursed lips, “we’re going to be late.”

More and more residents filtered out of their houses, tending to their gardens, trimming their bushes, and cleaning windows of their homes. With every stone cottage Lilika passed, the people smiled and waved. She greeted everyone with a wave and picked up her pace once she reached the hill.

Standing in front of the school, she paused and caught her breath before opening the classroom door.

“So, do you want to do something after school? Maybe we can go for a walk or something.” Bryony stopped her just outside the door. Lilika had been friends with her for as long as she could remember.

“Oh, I can’t.” Lilika sighed. “I have to do my chores right away when I get home since I didn’t have time to do all of them this morning.”

“Well, I found something I thought you might be interested in.” Bryony pulled out a big book from her backpack and wiped the dust off of it.

Lilika whipped her head around. “What? What is that?”

“It’s called The History of Winter in the Soul.” Bryony moved her fingers along the raised gold title on the front. “It’s all about Wits.” Bryony opened it and read from the book. “It was a cold that could only manifest out of the coldness in the soul. That is how Wits got to be known as the Winter in the Soul.”

“What are you doing?” Violet butted in. Great, she was always putting her nose where it didn’t belong.

“Nothing. Keep your voice down.” Lilika glanced toward the window to make sure no one was looking. Leave it to Violet to try and join in with them when they were trying not to bring attention to themselves.

“What do you have there, Bryony?” Violet put her hand on Bryony’s shoulder to get a glimpse.

“Nothing.” Lilika shook her head.

“Well, what is it? What’s so interesting?” Violet leaned in closer.

“Oh, please,” Lilika whispered, “just stop. Someone’s going to see, and then we’ll all be in trouble. Just mind your own business and leave us alone. Go, go on.” Lilika waved her hand at Violet.

“Fine.” Violet rolled her eyes and stormed off.

“Bryony, you really shouldn’t have that book. Where did you get it anyway?”

“I found it under my parent’s bed. Aren’t you curious about Wits?”

“I am, but…”

“But what?”

The golden locket popped into Lilika’s head. Who was she to tell Bryony not to ask questions about Wits? She had questions of her own.

“Nothing, come on, we’d better get inside. We’re going to be late.”

Bryony shoved the book back inside her backpack and followed Lilika into school.

Author Jennifer Novotney

Jennifer Novotney was born in Burbank, California and lived in Los Angeles for most of her life until settling in North Eastern Pennsylvania with her husband and daughter. She attended California State University, earning a bachelors degree in journalism, and Northern Arizona University, earning a masters degree in English. After college, she spent several years writing and teaching, including at Pennsylvania State University.
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Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from http://www.iamareader.com/ and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.