Prologue from HUSH by Kimberly Shursen @KimberlyShursen #Thriller #GoodReads #BookClub

-Prologue-
June 21, 1997 

Thirteen-year-old Ben Grable stared out the window of his father’s car. He wished he could close his eyes and be somewhere—anywhere else—just not on the way to the nursing home.He hated today.

Every Sunday, his father dragged him to visit his grandmother. Two years ago, the woman who had laughed at all of his jokes, baked him chocolate chip cookies, and played Chutes and Ladders with him growing up was given a death sentence. It wasn’t fair to his Nana or the people who watched her die an inch at a time.

“Come on, son,” his father said when he parked his car in the lot. “Put on that smile your Nana loves to see.”

The one-story, all-brick building sat on an acreage surrounded by pine trees. The scene was serene, but the moment Ben stepped inside, the smell of urine and decay was overwhelming.

Old people with crinkled faces and withered hands who had shrunk to a portion of their original height sat in chairs lined against the wall saying nothing. Nothing. The years had sucked the life and voices out of them. Nursing assistants offered cookies and a smile along with a pat on the patients’ decomposing backs and told them it was a beautiful day. What did they care if the sun was shining or a tornado was about to sweep them away? Every moment of each day was the same. Pain. Loneliness. Humiliation. And fading memories of who they once were.

“Nana?” Ben said, and walked to the elderly woman sitting in a wheel chair that faced the window. Even before he reached her, he noticed the spastic movements of her hands and head were worse. He bent down next to her in the room the size of his closet, a crucifix hanging on one wall.

Her tired, puffy eyes stared at him, and Ben’s heart sank when he realized she didn’t recognize him. He could have been Batman or a poodle, and she wouldn’t have known the difference.

After a few minutes of trying to understand what she was saying, Ben turned to his father. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

His father gave him an understanding nod.

He’d wandered down the hallway, blinking back tears of anger and pain. Angry that his grandmother was never going to get better and the pain of knowing he’d already lost her.

On the other side of the nursing home, he spotted another set of double doors. Staring inside, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Babies, children, and young adults filled the long, narrow hallway; some lay flat on their backs on bare mattresses, their heads rolling back and forth in slow-motion succession. Others traipsed the floor mindlessly with unblinking, glazed eyes, their backs hunched over. Heads too large for their bodies—slanted eyes, some missing limbs, a couple with wide, open gashes in their upper lips. Where did these monsters come from, and why were they here?

Nurses changed diapers, or knelt beside mats and held baby bottles for children who looked as old, or older, than Ben. Long, guttural moans and helpless cries filtered through the doors, the smell of feces was disgusting.

He jumped when he felt something touch his shoulder.

“Sad, isn’t it?” a young nurse said.

“What’s wrong with them?” Ben asked, tasting his own sour bile.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Different things. Most were born this way, and their parents just couldn’t take care of them.”

“Why are they here? In a nursing home?”

“Part of the building is for a nursing home and”—she nodded to the other side the window—“this part is controlled by the state. There are so many nursing homes for old people and not enough institutions for people like this that a few months ago we started taking in the overflow.”

“Will they ever get better? Go home?”

The nurse shook her head. “I’m afraid not. This is the only life they’ll ever know.”

When he looked back through the windowed door, he gasped and jumped back. On the other side of the window, only inches away from his face, a pair of eyes pleaded with Ben for help.

“It’s okay. They won’t hurt you,” the nurse told him.

Ben shook his head back and forth slowly, tears welling in his eyes. He turned and raced through the halls toward the front door of the building. The face on the other side of the door burned into his memory—the bulging, watery eyes, the slobbering drool running down the glass, the hopeless and far-away look of misfortune and doom.

Heart racing, his temples throbbing, he was going to vomit. Breathless when he reached his father’s car, he found it locked. Panicked, he pulled at the handle over and over. “Open, please, open!” he sobbed uncontrollably.

He turned, leaned back against the door, and slowly sank to the concrete. If his friends saw him, they’d call him a sissy-boy. It didn’t matter. Those things, those sad, awful looking creatures weren’t human. His parents had always told him that all of God’s children were created equally. But it wasn’t true.

He brought his knees up to his chest and covered his tear-streaked face with his hands, trying hard to get the images out of his mind.

It just wasn’t true.

Soon after Ann Ferguson and Ben Grable marry, and Ben unseals his adoption papers, their perfect life together is torn apart, sending the couple to opposite sides of the courtroom.

Representing Ann, lawyer Michael J. McConaughey (Mac) feels this is the case that could have far-reaching, judicial effects -- the one he's been waiting for.

Opposing counsel knows this high profile case happens just once in a lifetime.

And when the silent protest known as HUSH sweeps the nation, making international news, the CEO of one of the top ten pharmaceutical companies in the world plots to derail the trial that could cost his company billions.

Critically acclaimed literary thriller HUSH not only questions one of the most controversial laws that has divided the nation for over four decades, but captures a story of the far-reaching ties of family that surpasses time and distance.

*** Hush does not have political or religious content. The story is built around the emotions and thoughts of two people who differ in their beliefs.

 EDITORIAL REVIEW: "Suspenseful and well-researched, this action-packed legal thriller will take readers on a journey through the trials and tribulations of one of the most controversial subjects in society today."

Katie French author of "The Breeders," "The Believer's," and "Eyes Ever To The Sky."

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Kimberly Shursen through Facebook and Twitter

Website http://www.kimberlyshursen.com/

KS Ferguson on Sub-Genres Multiplying Faster Than Rabbit #WriteTip #AmWriting #Fantasy

Do you read fantasy? Which kind? Back when I started reading fantasy—just before the invention of the printing press—fantasy was all wizards with staffs and cloaks, kids with magical objects that allowed them to fly to the moon, or crazy professors making trips to the center of the Earth. I don't recall there being separate sub-genres. If there were, the librarian didn't tell me about them.

Now days, sub-genres seem to multiply faster than rabbits. You've got your epic fantasy, your sword-and-sorcery fantasy, steam-punk, dark, superheroes, and urban, just to mention a few.

I just have to ask—why urban? I mean, isn't that a tad discriminatory? Is an urban setting somehow superior to a suburban setting? No witchcraft going on behind those perfectly trimmed hedges? No summoning of demons from the sinkhole that's just opened in the back yard?

Don't get me started on rural settings! No one thinks it would be amusing if the shape-shifter hero morphed into a dairy cow to blend into the herd or gored the baddie to death? No possessed pocket gophers taking over the town? If pocket gophers aren't a creation of the Devil, I don't know what is!

When I wrote Touching Madness and published it, retail sites insisted I classify it according to their prescribed list of genres. Because it involves traveling to alternate realities, it might fit the fantasy alternate histories category. But it's not about a single alternate reality.

Touching Madness isn't epic, sword-and-sorcery, or steampunk. It's sort of urban fantasy. But it isn't strictly confined to an urban environment. While River spends most of the book in Centerville, Kansas, important chapters see him in a Raptor military camp, snowy winter woods, and an underground compound of unknown origins.

So in keeping with current trends, I'm proposing a new category: contemporary, alternate-dimension-hopping-magic-advanced-technology-and-demons fantasy. What do you think? Will it catch on at Amazon?

Light bulbs talk to River Madden; God doesn't. When the homeless schizophrenic unintentionally fractures a dimensional barrier and accidentally steals a gym bag containing a million dollars, everyone from the multiverse police to the local crime boss—and an eight-foot tall demon—are after him. Can he dodge them long enough to correct his mistakes and prevent the destruction of three separate dimensions? If he succeeds, will the light bulbs stop singing off-key?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Contemporary, Urban fantasy

Rating – R

More details about the author

Website http://www.ksferguson.net

Madi Brown on a #Book Cover Designer That Fits Your Needs @Madithe1brown #Wwed #SelfPub

Why Book Covers Are So Important

Unless you don't have eyes, people are visual. If there's a handsome guy sitting  across  from me during my daily commute on the train, I'm going to look. If I'm away on vacation, I'm going to appreciate the beautiful sights around me, because I know that I'm there to relax. If my mom bakes one of her yummy peach cobblers, I'm going to feast on it with my eyes first, and then I'm going to devour it. In the world of books, book covers work in the same way. There are probably millions of them out there, but most readers are only looking for one title. Just think, your book cover is going to be the very first thing that a buyer will see. If you're suddenly feeling the pressure of of just  how important a book cover really might be, then continue to read on.

“I've penned a stellar novel. People are going to love me once they read what I've written.” Plenty of authors are probably thinking the exact same thing. But how are you going to let people know about this stellar body of work that you've just created? I'll tell you how.  You're going to  have a fabulous book cover that will make your book stand out from the rest. And don’t worry, I get it. Writers aren't book designers, but here's where you bring in someone to help with bringing your vision to life. Outsourcing can be your new best friend.

How to  Find a Book Cover Designer That Fits Your Needs

I'm pretty infatuated with the book cover for my debut novel, The Truth About Emily, but it wasn't a one step process of knowing what I wanted straight away. It started with me doing research. Think about your storyline or nonfiction topic. Jot down some ideas so that you have a place of reference to pull from. Do you have a title already? Great. If you do, then keep that in mind too, because it's another source. Now go online and begin looking at other people's book covers.  Are they popular authors? Ask yourself what it is, if anything, that's drawing your eyes to it. How do you feel about the colors, the images, the font style, and the font size? Also, check out some of the books that you've previously purchased; specifically on the strength of its book cover. What caused you to click on buying it? Next up, what you want to do, is take all of that information and keep it somewhere safe. We'll come back to it.

Now you'll need to find yourself a competent book cover designer. Fiverr (an online company that will do almost any task for you for $5.00) has loads of  people on there who can assist you for a bargain, but just remember that most of those people specialize in quantity over quality. By this, I mean that you might end up with a book cover identical to someone else or it may have an appearance that looks manufactured. This isn’t to say that there aren’t  some gems on there, but you'll have to diligently seek them out.  As for myself, I chose to go with a freelancer. I was drawn to the element of selection in having access to a host of talented designers with exceptional portfolios  and being able to make a choice based on a price that I’ve set. My final winning pick was Gavin Pledger, Creative Soutions King).

By now ,you’ve found yourself a book cover designer (as far as the work contract is concerned, make sure that you add in how many times they’re willing to revise. Negotiate a flat fee). The first thing that they’ll want to know is what creative direction you’d like them to go in. This is when you whip out the notes that you’ve been compiling for your project. It’s your starting point. Don't be afraid to let them know what works for you, and what doesn’t. A really good book cover designer will be as excited as you are in getting right!

"If you LOVE New York, if you’re a name-dropping, fashion fiend careerist; fed up with serial dating, plagued with a thirst for sex, then you’ll totally stalk me for what I've penned.” - Author, Madi Brown

Description

29-year-old Emily Greene looks the part, but she’s still working on becoming a modern-day woman. Not that she’s one to back down from a challenge, but living as an eternal work-in-progress wasn't exactly the goal that she had in mind. It’s a harsh but true realization---the idea that that time isn't on her side, and the notion that wanting to have it all, doesn't mean getting it. The verdict is in; with zero prospects for a relationship and a stalled blogging career, Emily has every reason to believe that she’s been living a life too humdrum for her own good.

Making the change won’t be easy. She’ll have to do whatever it takes; start dating like a man, become more selective about which RSVP's she accepts, and work even harder at getting her dream job.The payoff’s huge; a modern twist on a storybook ending, but gains don’t often come without risks. In the here and now Emily just may be forced to choose...It’s got to be one or the other----the profession that she’s always wanted, or the love that she’s never had.

˃˃˃ Praise for Madi Brown & 

her debut novel, The Truth About Emily

"The added depth of character promises complexity but wraps everything in the saucy cloak of Emily's evolving personality and newfound beliefs about life, love, and the real nature of happiness. And this is where The Truth About Emily outshines many competitors, making it a recommended read for those seeking more than a standard romance novel." - D. Donovan, eBook Reviewer, Midwest Book Reviews

"This book has just about anything a girl would love to read about. If there's anything Emily Greene has is ISH and lots of it, oh the ending... This book is a total keeper, just anything about fashion to relationships to friends and family." - Y. Sanchez, Goodreads

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Genre – Contemporary Women's Fiction

Rating – PG18

More details about the author

Connect with Madi Brown on Facebook & Twitter

Hearts Unfold (Miracle at Valley Rise) by Karen Welch #AmReading #WomensFic #Saga

The actual miracle occurred—and she had no doubt it had been a miracle—when she’d stood beneath the stars and whispered her own name into the darkness.  In the cold night wind, the fog that had for so long bound her mind began to clear, and she looked up to the sky, a broad black bowl over the valley filled with stars she hadn’t seen in years.  The wind rustling in the branches above her seemed to whisper words of calm and comfort, as if to say don’t rush, take time to be very certain of each step.

She thought then of her father’s words.  “You,” touching her hand with a trembling caress; “farm,” shaking his head sadly.  And finally, after what seemed a herculean struggle, “home.”  There had been tears in his eyes, as though it grieved him to have to remind her.

Looking up to the sky again, she felt the surge of her reviving spirit.  Overhead, familiar constellations winked in place.  A sliver of a moon hung low over the trees, too pale to compete with the brilliance of the stars.  This would have been the perfect cinematic moment for a star to arc from its orbit and trail to the horizon, she mused.  But nothing moved, save the gentle twinkling and one small cloud sailing just below the moon.  This, she believed, was the sign she’d prayed for.  The sky she’d gazed up at as a child was unchanged.  The hills had not shifted their positions.  The winter cold had arrived in the proper season.  Some things, the most essential of things, remained constant.  In her short life, so much had changed.  So much that she’d almost been uprooted and lost herself.  In this familiar place was the direction she’d been seeking, the peace and stability she craved.  Had her parents been standing with her there, she could not have felt more confident of the path she saw opening before her.

What remained was accepting that with this decision came a binding commitment.  This was more than merely taking possession of what was already hers.  Any plan to return to this place, to make it her home and build her future here, would not only include the promise to care for the house and the land.  She must also submit herself to be further shaped by what was here.  Just as it belonged to her, she knew she belonged to the farm.  She would not be free to go elsewhere.  It would always need her care, her companionship.  It would be her family, her responsibility.  Maybe this was why Pop had been so sad.  What if she hadn’t wanted this?

~~Miracle at Valley Rise Series~~
Hearts Unfold~Book One
Entreat Me Not~Book Two
Heart of My Own Heart~Book Three
Offered for Love~Book Four

A secret Christmas homecoming, a blinding snowstorm, and in the course of one night two shattered lives will be changed forever.Nineteen-year-old Emily Haynes had lost almost everything she loved. Relying on what seems to be guidance from her invalid father, she returns to her past in hopes of discovering some sign toward the future. What begins as a joyous homecoming quickly becomes a nightmare when a badly injured stranger stumbles on the scene, his brief presence threatening to alter everything Emily believes about herself and the plan for her life. 

A less determined girl might have been shaken by such an experience, but not Emily. She is certain she’s made the right choice, so certain that in the following three years, she almost convinces herself.Superstar violinist Stani Moss appeared to have everything–fame, fortune and a career guaranteed to bring more of the same, until one hasty decision placed it all in jeopardy. Terrified and confused, Stani struggles not only to recover his former skill, but to find answers to the questions which haunt him. Throughout his slow journey back, one image lingers in his buried memories of that fateful night–the vision of a girl he’s never met. The journey will eventually lead him to Emily, and beyond that day, everything about his life will be transformed.

Set in the years around 1970, Hearts Unfold begins the saga of two people whose paths should never have crossed, who defy the odds to create a place they can share. The first of four volumes in the Miracle at Valley Rise Series, this novel could stand alone as a triumphant tale of romance, but there’s much more to the story, as Emily and Stani reveal their pasts and strive to bridge the distance between their worlds. Follow their progress, be entertained by their adventures, and perhaps be inspired by their unwavering belief in the transforming power of love.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Women’s Fiction, Saga Fiction

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Karen Welch through Facebook

Blog http://valleyrise.blogspot.com/

My Conversations with God by Carlos Aranda @Losman1976 #AmReading #NonFiction #Christian

Protecting the Gates

In Matt. 12:34, it says, “You offspring of vipers! How can you speak good things when you are evil? For out of the heart the mouth speaks” (amp). So if we put anger in our heart, anger will be displayed out of our mouth. How do we get into the heart? The first way is by the ear gates. This can happen through listening to secular music ongoing or even surround ourselves with people that cursing is there first language. (That was me back in my days. Thank you, Jesus, for changing me.) Secondly, we can reach the heart by through our eye gates. 

This happens through watching inappropriate shows on TV or other such things as pornography or violence on a computer. Final way is through the mouth gate. If we speak anger, we then will hear anger. Anger will eventually find its way to our heart. In the same way, if we speak negative things about ourselves or others, once again we hear them, and they will find their way to our heart. These are just a few examples of what may happen if there is no watchman at these gates. If we take a defensive stand, our offense can never be beaten. Now we give God more room to operate. Just because the enemy is at the gate does not me we are obligated to let him in!

This book is a biblical perspective on how God wants us to see and get through the trials that life brings our way. It is a book of conversations and things brought to our attention that we may not always see and how through scripture God wants us to get through them.

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Genre - Christian Living

Rating – G

More details about the author

Connect with Carlos Aranda through Facebook & Twitter

Website http://carlosaranda.tateauthor.com

The Girl Who Came Back to Life by Craig Staufenberg @YouMakeArtDumb #Excerpt #MG #Fiction

Sophie woke at the table the next day before the sun rose and let habit and obligation drag her from her seat and pull her to the bakery. Setting her body in front of the floured marble table and searching her chest, she found a hole where her heart used to beat, and when she dove into this abyss she felt something close to cold, but far from feeling itself.

That morning her dough would barely budge when she touched it and the loaves she handled wouldn’t rise an inch and the bread she placed in the oven left their fires cold and flat and dead no matter how long they spent among the flames.

The baker saw this and responded to her as if she were a stubborn slab of dough. She pressed patiently and consistently and with constant motion, asking Sophie this and that, pushing and pulling at her, all without mentioning her failures, without forcing a point, yet unrelenting and unwilling to toss her to the side.

Yet despite this care, by the end of the morning, Sophie’s failures at the simple, mundane tasks built up and tore through her. Her frustration broke as she pulled a final frozen lump from the fired oven and a small tear arrived in her eye as she held the uncooked dough in front of her chest.

The baker stepped over to her and took the dough from Sophie and placed it on the table with a thud. She admonished Sophie, without any hint of anger or malice, “Cry if you need to, but don’t cry into the bread.”

Sophie stood there, that single tear still caught within her eye, her arms and hands still held up in front of her. The baker took each of Sophie’s raised, empty arms, one at a time, and placed them down at her sides. She took one of her own weathered hands and guided Sophie to the table and pulled up a stool and motioned to Sophie to sit. Sophie set her elbows down on the floured marble table and leaned across its surface.

The tear finally fell from her eye and dropped down onto the table, creating a little wet crater in the flour that lay sifted across the top of the marble table. The baker reached out a thumb and smudged the crater across and smiled to herself, then went to the front of the shop and picked up a small olive loaf from the day-old bin. She held it in one of her hands and opened the oven door with the other and let a whiff of the blasting hot air spill out and wash over Sophie. The baker commanded her, “Take out some butter, if you would.”

The baker reached her hand into the oven and held the loaf above the flames for a moment as Sophie walked to the side counter and pulled out the pan of thick yellow butter that sat there. She brought it to the table and returned to her seat.

The baker left the oven door open, warming the room. She pulled up another stool and sat next to her and placed the now-steaming loaf down. The woman tore off a chunk and slathered it with the rich butter, which melted on contact and found its way into the bread’s hidden corners. She handed the bread to Sophie, then she tore off and buttered a second hunk for herself.

Sophie took a bite of the bread, and that bite sank into her. The half-stale loaf crunched in her mouth and the butter pressed through her body as surely as it soaked through the bread.

As they ate for a moment in silence, the baker continued to pull off pieces of the bread and butter them, handing one to Sophie first then taking one for herself. She ate in silence as the dry heat of the oven filled the back of the shop, until Sophie broke the quiet and spoke first. She apologized for her shoddy work.

The baker nodded her response. “It’s alright. I had a lot of bad days too when my parents died.”

Sophie looked over at the sturdy woman with surprised eyes and asked when the woman’s parents had passed.

The baker replied with a soft smile, “Some time ago. I was a little older than you but I was baking by that point… and for a long time my bread wouldn’t rise either.”

The baker deepened her smile as she lifted her hunk of bread into the air and inspected it for a moment, then took a bite and continued as she swallowed, “Clearly it was a temporary problem.”

Sophie couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She asked the woman what fixed her troubles.

The baker thought for a moment. “Time.” She placed her elbow on the table and scratched at her cheek. “As the days passed I found myself again.” She paused, her finger rested against her cheek. “But my bread wasn’t this good again until I went north and Sent them.”

Sophie looked over and was about to speak but the baker stood up and cut her off firmly. “Come. We need to open the shop.”

The baker gathered the few loaves she managed to salvage from Sophie’s empty heart and sighed out loud, “Here’s hoping for a slow day…”

She smiled then pushed her to clean the oven, as she always did, and from there the afternoon proceeded as it always had. Sophie took on her chosen chores, straightening the shop, cleaning, organizing and restoring order as the baker took her seat at the counter where her customers purchased their bread. When her grandmother arrived, Sophie avoided her gaze. Aside from a lingering moment when the baker stepped to the desk and spoke for a moment longer than usual to the old woman, the day proceeded as it always had, right until the sun began to set and the baker asked Sophie and her grandmother to come to the counter to receive their day’s wages.

The old woman placed her payment in her purse, and as she stood for a moment to wait for her granddaughter to receive hers, the baker told the wrinkled woman, “I need to speak with Sophie for a minute longer, you don’t need to wait for her.”

The old woman nodded and said goodbye and left through the shop’s swinging doors as the baker asked Sophie to stand there for a moment. She held still and watched as the woman came out from behind her counter and walked through the shop, examining the little touches Sophie added to it throughout the afternoon. The baker inspected the organized loaves and gave a small approving nod, then examined the swept floor and made a minor appreciative grunt, then noted the neatly stacked bags of flour with a lingering look, before she returned to the counter and opened her drawer and began to count out Sophie’s wages. As she did, the woman spoke to herself, loud enough for Sophie to hear, “Let’s see…”

The baker set down Sophie’s usual wages. Sophie thanked her and reached for the bills lying there. The baker stopped her hand and spoke, without looking up, “The shop looks better than ever lately.”

She turned her eyes to Sophie. “You’ve been working a little later than necessary for some time now.”

Sophie looked at her feet, embarrassed, as the baker pulled some paper and a pencil from beneath the counter and set them down and continued, “I used to hire someone to tidy up the shop as you’ve been doing. I can’t quite remember what I used to pay them.”

The baker marked a few calculations onto the paper and reached into the cash drawer and placed a few extra bills on top of Sophie’s normal wages and looked down at her paper.

“That doesn’t seem right. You’ve been working late every single day for some time now… Let me check the math again. Oh, I shouldn’t have let your grandmother off, she’s better with the numbers than I am.”

The baker made a few more marks on the paper, performing some simple math, adding up the days and Sophie’s extra wages, reaching into the drawer and pulling out more money and placing it on the counter, before checking her math again and pulling out more and adding it to the growing pile, speaking loudly and absent-mindedly the whole time.

“This afternoon your grandmother told me she plans on heading north soon, and that she’ll be gone for some time.”

The baker looked casually at Sophie. “It’s to be expected, of course. She never said so but she adored that man.” The baker looked back down. “Though now I’ll have to find someone else to take care of the books for me.”

She placed more money on the counter. “As I said, I’m not very good at math.”

She returned to her paper, then scanned the neatly ordered shop, then added even more money to Sophie’s thick pile. The woman looked back down and spoke some more to herself.

“I’ll have to find someone to help me with the oven and the store too, while you are traveling with her.”

Sophie’s heart returned to her chest for a moment, before rising and getting caught in her throat as she looked at the thick stack of money on the counter.

The baker rolled her eyes up at Sophie with lightly arched eyebrows. “Though only temporary help, of course… as you’ll resume working here when you return…”

Sophie nodded yes, yes, yes. The baker sat back in her chair and pushed the money towards her.

“And I’m sure if my math was wrong and I’ve overpaid you now, then you’ll work the remainder off when you return.” Sophie pressed her heart down her throat and back into her chest and released a soft, “Of course.”

When you die, your spirit wakes in the north, in the City of the Dead. There, you wander the cold until one of your living loved ones finds you, says "Goodbye," and Sends you to the next world. 

After her parents die, 12-year-old Sophie refuses to release their spirits. Instead, she resolves to travel to the City of the Dead to bring her mother and father’s spirits back home with her. 

Taking the long pilgrimage north with her gruff & distant grandmother—by train, by foot, by boat; over ruined mountains and plains and oceans—Sophie struggles to return what death stole from her. Yet the journey offers her many hard, unexpected lessons—what to hold on to, when to let go, and who she must truly bring back to life.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Middle Grade

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Craig Staufenberg through Facebook and Twitter

Website http://craigstaufenberg.com/

Mikey D.B. on Being Inspired, Writing & Marketing @mikeydbii #AmWriting #AmReading #Area38

How did you develop your writing?

            By writing.  When I was a personal trainer, I had this client that would tell me “I want to have a dancer’s body” which I then preceded to tell her “You want a dancer’s body?  Then be a dancer.”  I came up with exercises that would help her with dance technique and what not, but in the end, if you want to be something, then be it.  You want to develop your writing, sit down and write.  Write a poem, who cares if it’s hard on the eyes and ears.  The key is to write something everyday.

Where do you get your inspiration from?

            Movies and Netflix mostly.  Music too, but for the most part, when I see how the world has inspired an artist and then that inspiration being reflected in their work, that’s inspiring to me.

           

What is hardest – getting published, writing or marketing?

            For me?  Marketing, hands down.  I’m not a very social person to begin with.  I can be content being alone, and because of that I hate…no, strongly dislike social media.  It freaks me out to some extent, but for the most part, I don’t like the mess that can come from being social and what not, and since marketing is a very social process, I struggle with it.

Do you plan to publish more books?

            Most definitely.  At least three.  “Saga of the Nine: Five” “Saga of the Nine: The Reformists” & “Saga of the Nine: The Original Nine”.  After that, I have no idea.  Maybe I’ll try a screenplay.

What else do you do to make money, other than write? It is rare today for writers to be full time…

            I work at a labeling manufacturing company.  We make the labels you see on vitamin bottles, chapstick, watter bottles, the things granola bars are wrapped in.  That’s us.  I’m also an onsite manager with my wife for a student complex at BYU and I coach high school football.  It sounds like a lot, but it’s all about time management.  My hope is that one day my writings will make enough that I can be job optional.

What other jobs have you had in your life?

            I’ve been working since I was 14 and back then I helped an elderly lady in my neighborhood take care of her house.  After that, I worked at a movie theater, which I hated, and then moved to the labeling manufacturing company I’m at now.  I’ve moved around in the company, but it’s not something I want to make a career with.  It’s getting my wife and me through college, and for that, it’s been a blessing.  At one time I was also a personal trainer.  I loved working with my clients, but I slowly found out how corrupt the company was and it went under shortly after.

If you could study any subject at a university what would you pick?

            The truth of the matter is, I love to learn.  I love it, and writing gives me an excuse to learn about the most random things.

“Why are you learning about Russia?  Are you a communist?”

“No, I’m a writer.”

“Oh, it’s okay then.”

That’s one thing that attracted me to writing a novel, is that you have to learn if you want to sound credible.  I’m not a perfect writer by any means, but to answer your question, I don’t know.  I’ve changed my degree three times and it’s simply because I want to know everything.  So many people go through the motions and get a degree because they are told they have to, and then they have no idea how to apply what they’ve learned and wind up in their mom and dad’s basement.  If money wasn’t an issue, I’d spend as much time as I could at a university learning everything I could.  Unfortunately, money is an issue, so I turn to Google instead.

How do you write – lap top, pen, paper, in bed, at a desk?

            Laptop, for sure.  I have a little notebook I carry around everywhere as I go throughout the day, jotting down ideas and cool things I see, and then when I get home, I put those ideas into my laptop.  It’s a nice little system for me, merging handwritten thoughts into digital ones.

Where do you get support from? Do you have friends in the industry?

            I know a few writers in the industry, Sarah Eden being one of them, but for the most part, I’m kind of a pioneer in my circle of who I know.  My family and wife give me the most support, but they don’t really know how this industry works.  That’s where Sarah Eden lended me a hand.  Once I got going though, my little sister decided she wanted to write a book, I’m proofreading some stuff for my friend’s wife, and I’m just helping out where I can; I’m giving support where I didn’t feel I really had any.

When you are not writing, how do you like to relax?

            I love movies, video games of course.  Reading is fun, but it’s not really relaxing because I am constantly dissecting what I read, movies and games too.  But I like to be active where I can.  Working out, boxing, training, that is therapeutic for me and relaxing believe it or not.  Writing is such a cerebral activity that in order for me to relax, I need to do something physical.

Change affects everyone and it is no different for Jackson. Living in Area 38 for as long as he can remember, he knows of no better way to exist than under the tyrannical rule of Christopher Stone, son of Stewart Stone from The Nine of The United Governmental Areas, aka The UGA. This all takes a dramatic turn when Jackson finds a red, metal box buried in his yard, filled with illegal artifacts—journals, a Bible, CDs, etc.—that are from a man of whom he has no recollection of: Mica Rouge.

 The year is 2036 and Mica, unlike Jackson, does know of a better way of life but is torn apart as he sees his country, The United States of America, crumbling from within by group known as The Political Mafia. The Mafia has infiltrated levels upon levels of governmental resources and it is up to Mica and a vigilante group known as The USA Division to stop them and their dark Utopian vision. To their demise, and at the country's expense, The Division fails and has no choice but to watch The Constitution dissolve and transform into The UGA.

In a final stand, having not given up hope, Mica and what is left of The Division, give one final fight in Colorado, or better known as Area 38. However, all is lost as The Division is betrayed by one of their own, Stewart Stone. Mica is left with no choice but to hide in exile, leaving what little history he can of himself and the great United States of America, with his wife, long time friends, and newly born son in hopes that they will one day finish what he could not.

Jackson, having found this legacy twenty-seven years later, decides to start the war that will end The Nine, and he with an outcast group known as The Raiders, begins his fight with Christopher Stone in Area 38. Filled with betrayal, unity, despair, hope, hate and love Area 38 follows both Mica and Jackson in their attempts to restore what they believe to be true freedom, and where one fails, the other rises to the seemingly impossible challenge.

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Genre – Dystopian Thriller

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

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Website www.mikeydb.com