Spotlight: Queen of Corona by Ester Hazy

Queen of Corona
Esterhazy
Publication date: December 15th 2017
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult

Queen of a Corona delves into the mind of a young American adult growing up in today’s multicultural society. It is a human look at contemporary existence “from the bottom of the barrel.” It tells the story of a high school senior who is running after a student protest ends in tragedy. She is ushered onto an airplane by her mother, headed back to the land of her ancestors for the first time in her life. Her journey is both a way of escaping a seemingly dead-end existence and a chance at rediscovering herself by stepping outside the confines of societal standards. Queen of Corona is a coming-of-age novel in a dangerous age, in the age of Trump and all the forces stirring with and against the American president.

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EXCERPT:

I bet you thought I was going to fold. That I wouldn’t be able to resist that fine china-white powder resting right there in the sanctuary of my pocketbook.

But it stays tucked away the entire night, I swear. I ride my bike to the river to get some air. I sit down on the concrete bank and look out at the wilderness just across the water. At the narrow beaches spotted with bushes, fluo-green against the fading sky of late summer.

Here the riverside is wild, untempered. The bars along the water light up, the music gets louder. I go to the bar. As I’m standing in the endless line I can feel someone’s eyes on me. I count to five in my mind and I look up. Oh man, I think, here we go again. And I let myself fall into it one more time because I need anything to get myself out of this emotional hole I dug for myself.

At first, I’m confused. Because the face that is looking back at me is a face I know so well. A face so familiar and unfamiliar. A face I’d seen dozens of times, but not a face I’d ever called a friend. I stared at him as I tried to place him. He smiles back at me amused. The cogs in my mind begin to click. An actor. I know his face from the movies. That series on Netflix about the homicide detective addicted to porn.

I’m not drunk enough to get up the balls to sidle up to him all sassy and shit. But I don’t need to because he comes up to me. He looks me up and down and nods like he’s approving a shipment of the latest iPhone.

“Mind if I sit down?” he says in that Hollywood voice.

“Yes. I mean no. Why not.”

He says he’s here filming an episode where he’s chasing some jewel thief around Eastern Europe. He can’t believe I’ve never heard of his show. He doesn’t waste any time pouring me doubles out of the bottle the waitress brings over. He asks me if I want to dance and I follow him out to the dance floor. He’s a terrible dancer. He’s basically grinding against my pelvis and slobbering on me. Then he’s trying to get into my panties under my dress like we’re not out in the open and all these people aren’t looking at us. At some point, he grabs my hand and leads me towards the car he’s got waiting for him. I’m not good with cars, so I can’t say what kind of car it is, just that it’s shiny and black. The driver drops us off at one of the big hotels where he’s got a suite. He opens the door like he’s a sheik opening the palace gates. As if a hotel room that looks like millions of other hotel rooms around the world is going to make me go woozy with passion.

Pretty soon he gets back to his sloppy kissing. He’s got my dress off and he says he wants to fuck me like Charles Bukowski and I don’t know who he’s talking about.

I’m probably only fucking him because he’s famous, not because I really like him. What’s there to like in an arrogant middle-aged man with a paunch and a lazy eye? And what’s in it for him, fucking a girl young enough to be his daughter.

“Can I take a picture of you?”

I shrug and he takes it as a yes. He asks me to stop covering my breasts and to spread my legs. I feel horribly shy but it’s exciting at the same time to think this famous dude is going to be looking at my pictures later and reminiscing about our time together. But what if he posts them online? I should have said no. Julita tells me I’ve got a real problem saying no. I’m too much of a yes girl. A goddang people pleaser and where’s that been getting me? Not very far, eh? says the reasonable voice in my head. The other voice, the one that just wants me to take it easy and go with the flow, tells me that it’s fine. It’s just two consenting adults having a good time. Isn’t it?

We end up trusting celebrities almost implicitly, as if their fame is guarantee that they’re harmless. We trust them to tell us what’s fashionable and what’s not, how to eat and how to vote. And sometimes we let them fuck us just because they’re famous. And sometimes we let them get away with the worst.

He goes to take a shower and I walk around the room and look at the stuff lying around his room. There’s his passport on the table. I open it up and look at the picture, which looks nothing like him, he must’ve aged a lot in the past few years. I look at the birthdate and do the math. It turns out he’s 52, not 45 like he told me last night. I pick up my stuff and go straight out the door. I feel sick, not the throwing up kind, just the sick dismay of disappointment. Sick at how they think it’s okay to treat you like an empty shell of a person and then got the nerve to lie to you. I think this might be my breaking point. At last, you say.

I’m sobbing into my sleeve as I walk through the lobby and my mascara’s running all over the fucking place, so I sit down for a minute. In a flash, hotel security is coming my way and they’re asking me to leave and if I didn’t feel like a whore before then I definitely do now.

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Read an excerpt from Cowboy Up by Harper Sloan

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Harper Sloan returns with a passionate and breathless romance about the sparks that ignite when a cautious cowboy and a once-scorned woman open up to each other in the third installment of the Coming Home series.

As the eldest Davis, Clayton has always tried to lead by example. He takes his job as head of the family businesses seriously, making sure the farm and auto shop are running smoothly—along with keeping an eye on his brother and sister. For him, there’s a time and place to let go of the control he holds with an iron grip. And with the way he grew up, coupled with a disastrous end to his last relationship, he’s just fine with his quiet, solitary life.

Most of the time.

What he hadn't counted on was the cute, quirky, shy bookstore owner, Caroline Michaels. She's the proverbial woman next door—well, the next town over, that is. Caroline hasn't lived an easy life, but after escaping a verbally abusive ex, she's finally living it for herself. The last thing she ever expected was a one-night stand with Clay Davis she can’t stop thinking about.

So when she falls on hard times and Clay comes out of nowhere to her rescue, she realizes just how impossible it’ll be to stay away from him. Now all she has to do is convince him to live a little…. Will Clay be able to give up the reins and finally settle down? And, more importantly, will Caroline muster enough courage to lasso him up?

Excerpt

I push my hands from his shoulders and palm his jaw as his stubble prickles against my fingers while my hands wander up to his hair. His hat falls to the ground with a thud and I know he’s just as lost in me as I am in him, because he doesn’t even make a move to pick it up. He lets out a deep grunt when I mold myself against his body, seeking some sort of friction. The next thing I know, my back is against the door and he’s gripping my bottom. His mouth hits my jaw with a bite of his teeth, making a squeak of pleasure shoot up my throat, and his deep rumble of laughter reaches my ears as he presses me harder into the door with his hips. The heavy bulge of his erection against that spot makes me so desperate for him that I whimper in relief when his mouth finally closes over mine in a wet tangle of tongues.

I’ve never been kissed so thoroughly.

This is the kind of kiss that sets the bar for any that might follow.

The kind that shows you everything you’ve been missing and everything you never knew you wanted. I’m going to be comparing every kiss I ever have to my dark cowboy’s, even though I know there’s a good chance no one will ever compare. The sounds coming from my mouth, the ones being swallowed by his, are nothing short of needy. My hips move in tandem with the thrusts of his, and even though we’re both fully clothed, I know it won’t take much more of this for me to go off like the town’s fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“Fuck, you taste just like apple pie,” he whispers against my lips, breaking away with a gasp.

“Huh?”

“Goddamn, I love apple pie,” he says before his mouth is back on mine, this time with a whole new kind of hunger deepening his kisses.

I’m held captive, enraptured. Then his hands move from my bottom to glide up my torso. He lifts his hard chest off mine and suddenly those delicious fingers are at my breasts. Even if I had big boobs his hands would dwarf them, I’m sure, but as it is he covers both with a firm grasp before adjusting his hold with a deft twist of the wrists. His mouth continues to feast on mine while his huge hands learn my body with slow movements. I tear my mouth from his with a breathy moan when he pushes my shirt up and slips his fingers into the cups of my bra to tweak my nipples.

“Oh, God,” I moan when he does it again.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he rumbles.

“Please,” I beg, not with the slightest clue as to what I’m begging for.

His hips dig even harder into mine as he leans back, supporting me against the door with that connection alone as he pulls my shirt off. The darkness makes me feel more confident than I normally would be, almost half naked with a man—no, a stranger.

“Yours too,” I tell him as his fingers move to unclasp my bra. “I want to feel your skin on mine,” I breathe, taking over the task so he’ll hopefully give me what I want.

I fumble in my haste to feel more of this dangerous arousal he’s creating in my body, but the second my bra is free and dangling toward the floor, his naked chest collides against mine, pushing me into the door with a force that sends the air rushing out of my lungs.

His mouth hits my collarbone at the same time his hands grasp my bottom, sliding me up the door until I feel the wet heat of his breath against my breast.

Then he stops.

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About the Author

Harper is a NEW YORK TIMES, WALL STREET JOURNAL and USA TODAY bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn't writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand.

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Spotlight: Better Dead by Pamela Kopfler

Better Dead
Pamela Kopfler
(A B&B Spirits Mystery #1)
Published by: Kensington
Publication date: December 26th 2017
Genres: Adult, Mystery

As the owner of a charming Louisiana bed and breakfast, Holly Davis believes in Southern hospitality—but she draws the line at welcoming the ghost of her cheating husband . . .

Burl Davis checked out of this life a little earlier than expected—before Holly could serve him with divorce papers over his extramarital flings. Unfortunately, it was not before he nearly bankrupted her beloved B&B, Holly Grove, a converted plantation that has been in her family for generations. Holly would never wish anyone dead, but three months later she’s feeling a lot more relief than grief.

Until Burl’s ghost appears as an unwelcome guest. Before his spirit can move on, her not-so-dearly departed needs Holly’s human help to bust up the drug smuggling ring he was involved with. She has reservations, to say the least, but agrees to assist him if he’ll make a show of haunting the B&B to draw in visitors. But when Holly’s former love, Jack McCann, mysteriously resurfaces in town and checks in, she has to wonder if her B&B is big enough for the ghost of her husband and the very real physical presence of her old flame . . .

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Author Bio:

Pamela Kopfler is Southern-fried and sassy. She writes award-winning humorous mysteries with a kick of Southern sass. Her debut novel, BETTER DEAD, is the first in her B & B Spirits mystery series. (Kensington Books)
She can stir up a roux, mix a cocktail, shoot anything (as long as it doesn’t have eyes), and loves swapping stories. Putting words on the page keeps her alligator mouth from overloading her hummingbird heinie in real life. It doesn’t hurt to be married to a saint who is an attorney either. She marks her time on earth by the lives of the dogs she has loved and who often show up in her stories. Her current fur baby is a seventy-pound pup in black. He thinks he’s a fearless hunter when he’s not pretending he’s a lapdog.
Pamela lives in South Louisiana where the spirits are restless, the food is spicy, and the living is divine.

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Sales Blitz: Missing From Me by Jayne Frost and narrated by Jacob Morgan and Elena Wolfe

Sean

As the drummer for the band Caged, I’m the poster boy for living the fucking dream. I’ve got it all. Success. Money. A new woman in my bed every night.
Too bad it’s all a façade.
The only thing I really want, I can’t have — Anna Dresden.
When I decided to follow my dream, she was the price. But I never forgot her. Never moved on.
And then she was there, backstage after one of our shows. That’s when I knew — Anna was mine, would always be mine. And if she gave me a half a chance, I’d convince her.

Anna

When Sean Hudson walked out of my life, he shattered me. Broke me in untold ways. Now it was my turn to run.
The last thing I expected Sean to do was follow. Especially since I was wearing another man’s ring. Never mind it was just for show.
My marriage was over — had been for a year.
But that didn’t matter. Sean was my past. I couldn’t survive his brand of hurt ever again.
Soul mates, he used to call us. Too bad there was no such thing.

Exclusive Excerpt

Chapter One

4 YEARS AGO

Sean

The front door slammed, shaking the walls in our small apartment. I snuggled closer to Anna’s side and buried my face in her hair.

Logan’s agitated voice cut through the fog of near sleep.

“Dude, wake up!”

Whatever mess my best friend had gotten himself into, he’d have to solve it on his own. This was one of Anna’s rare mornings off, and since we’d had the apartment to ourselves, we’d stayed up late, listening to the rain and having lazy sex until we’d passed out.

Smiling at the thought of a repeat, I grumbled in Logan’s general direction, “Go away. I don’t have any condoms. Carry your ass to the store like a normal person and leave us alone.”

His footsteps echoed in the tiny room, and then he was beside me, his long fingers digging into my shoulder as he gave me a hard shake. “I’m serious. Get up.” 

Not happening.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips when Anna twisted in my arms. She propped herself up on one elbow, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “What do you need, Lo?”

A swift kick in the ass.

Rolling onto my back, I smothered my face with the pillow, hoping he’d get the hint. Of course, he didn’t. 

Cursing under his breath, Logan rooted around under the comforter. 

“Hey!” I snarled, tossing the pillow at him. “Whatever you’re looking for, I don’t have it.” 

Running an agitated hand through his blond hair, Logan glared at me. 

“Where’s your remote?” Anxiety laced his tone when I didn’t answer right away. “For the TV, douchebag—where’s the remote?” 

Anna fumbled around on the nightstand and then handed him the clunky device. “What’s wrong with the TV in your room?”

Logan walked to the end of the bed and took a seat.

Anna sat up, scowling. “Make it quick.” She slumped against the headboard, glaring at the back of Logan’s head. “Seriously, Lo, hurry up. I have to pee.” 

Logan ignored her, all his attention focused on the screen as he flipped through the channels. His shoulders sagged when he reached CNN. 

Cable News? Now he had my attention. The only things Logan ever watched were MTV, VH1, or the Cartoon Network. 

I popped up to see what was so important, but something told me I didn’t want to know. “What’s going on?”

“Quiet,” Logan whispered.

Buttoning my lip, I reluctantly focused on the screen where a stone-faced commentator stood in a field, fat droplets of rain pelting her microphone. 

“. . . live footage from the scene of the tragic accident outside of Fredericksburg, Texas this morning where two members of the super-group Damaged lost their lives in a fiery crash. At this point, we’re unable to confirm the identities of the deceased. Damaged, arguably the hottest band in the country, just completed a series of shows in the Southwest and . . .”

The camera panned out for a wide-angle shot. Wisps of smoke rose from the wreckage, dissolving into the gray morning sky. 

A gasp from Anna. “Oh my God.” 

She crumbled against me, her small hand curving around my waist as she buried her face in my chest. Unable to make sense of what I was seeing, I stroked her hair with numb fingers. 

After a few moments of stunned silence, Logan jumped to his feet. “What the fuck is she smiling about?”

Confused, I blinked at him. “Who?” 

“The fucking reporter.” He pointed at the TV with a shaky hand. “What the hell is she grinning for?”

I shifted my gaze back to the screen, and sure as shit, the reporter was smiling. Just a slight upturn of her glossy lips. 

I tightened my grip on my girl. “It’s her job, man. She doesn’t . . .” Emotion clogged my throat, and I struggled for breath. For words. “She doesn’t know them.”

But then, neither did we. Not really. Damaged hailed from Austin, our hometown. And over the last five years, as their star ascended, our paths had crossed on occasion.

Our band, Caged, was one of the many groups on Sixth Street that loosely followed the Damaged blueprint. Since high school, we’d been playing the same bars where Damaged got their start, hoping a little of their magic would rub off.

The news report abruptly cut to KVUE, the local ABC affiliate. Terri Gruca, the nighttime anchor, sat stoically behind the half-lit desk, her co-anchor nowhere in sight. 

“Thank you, Sandy.” Terri blinked into the camera. “We’ve just got word at the studio that Rhenn Grayson, lead singer for the Grammy winning band Damaged, and Paige Dawson, lead guitarist, were pronounced dead at the scene of the accident on Highway 290 this morning.” She looked down at the copy wobbling in her shaking hand. “Rhenn’s wife, singer Tori Grayson, and drummer, Miles Cooper, were airlifted to Brackenridge Hospital via Care Flight. According to band manager, Taryn Ayers, Mrs. Grayson and Mr. Cooper are both in critical condition. The bus driver was also pronounced dead at the crash site.” Still photos of Rhenn and Paige appeared on a split screen in the background behind Terri’s head. “Our prayers go out to the families. After a brief commercial break, we’ll cut to the CNN studio for further updates on this tragedy and a look back at the lives of these two gifted musicians.”

My head pounded as a commercial for toaster strudel flickered across the screen. Smiling faces and cheery voices, touting the virtue of strawberry jam tucked inside a fluffy pastry shell. Somewhere, people were probably eating that shit. 

But not Rhenn or Paige. 

“They were twenty-four years old,” Logan murmured.

As he turned to face me, questions clouded his arctic blue eyes. The same questions I’d seen every day since the first time we met. About death, and why it visited some while leaving others alone. Death was what brought Logan and me together, after all. Our shared bond. Two kids whose mothers would never sit at the long table in Mrs. Varner’s classroom handing out cookies. Because our mothers had “passed.” 

That’s the polite term people used when someone died. The same folks made sure to tell you they were “sorry for your loss.” 

Which I always found funny, since my mother wasn’t lost. She was dead. 

Rhenn’s voice boomed from the speaker on the worn-out TV. Smiling his most iconic smile, he stood back to back with Paige as he crooned the band’s latest hit.

I leaned forward to drink it all in. Because that’s all that was left now, bits of light and shadow caught on tape.

Slithering from my loose hold, Anna stumbled to her feet. “I’ve got to pee.” 

Before she got away, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and then slipped my arms around her waist to pull her between my knees.

Resting my forehead against her chest, I breathed deeply, her peach scent soothing me like a balm. “I love you, Anna-baby.” 

She sifted her fingers through my hair until I stopped shaking, and then kissed the top of my head. “Love you too.” 

Reluctantly, I let her go, and she retreated into the tiny bathroom. Through the paper-thin walls, I heard her crying softly. 

When she returned, her face splotchy and her eyes glistening with leftover tears, I gave her a soft smile and lifted the covers so she could crawl in beside me. 

An hour later and we still hadn’t moved, like if we stayed here, it wouldn’t be real.

But it was. 

When they showed the Care Flight helicopter on the roof of Brackenridge Hospital for the second time, I snapped. “Change that, will you?” 

Logan flipped the channel to MTV while I reached for the pad of paper I kept beside the bed to jot down lyrics.

Like everyone else, the music channel was covering the Damaged story. But instead of reporting what everyone already knew, they were running a special broadcast about the three lesser-known bands that had followed Damaged up the ladder. 

A solemn voice spoke over a montage of snippets flickering on the screen. 

“While it stands to reason that Leveraged, Revenge Theory, or Drafthouse will fill the gaping hole left by today’s tragic event, a few lesser-known groups from Austin have amassed quite a following.”

Jolted by the familiar beat, my gaze snapped to the television where footage of Caged performing at the Parish flashed on the set. 

“One such group, Caged, is currently playing the same venue where Damaged got their start some five years ago.”

The camera panned to the front of my drum kit where the band’s logo, a lion inside a gilded cage, shimmered under the lights.

“Like many of the smaller Sixth Street bands, Caged is still fighting for notoriety outside this small, but illustrious, stretch of road.” 

“Oh my God,” Anna whispered, squeezing my hand. “That’s you.”

Guilt flooded my insides, sweeping away the momentary jubilation.

They’re dead, I reminded myself, turning my attention back to my lyrics. 

Voices dying on the breeze, eyes now see what no one sees. 

Will you be among the masses, forever frozen as time passes?

As I pondered the morbid compilation, the incessant ringing roused me from my next thought. 

“Answer that call, dude,” I grumbled to Logan’s back. 

He glanced down at his hand as if he just realized he was holding the phone. Swiping a finger over the screen, he took a deep breath before lifting the device to his ear.

“Hey, Chase.” Logan pushed to his feet and began to pace in a tight circle, glancing at the television every few seconds. “Of course I heard.” Stopping in his tracks, he listened intently. “Tonight?” He glanced at me, brows drawn together over troubled blue eyes. “I don’t know. Let me talk to Sean first.” 

Tossing the phone on the bed, Logan dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “That was Chase. He wants us to do a set tonight.”

My stomach twisted as the shock rolled through me. “Why tonight?” 

Logan’s eyes met mine, conflicted. “There’s going to be some kind of candlelight vigil.” He cleared his throat. “They’re expecting music, so someone’s got to take the stage.”

Might as well be us. 

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About the Author

I’m an author who hails from Texas (by way of California), currently living in Sin City.

A romantic by nature, I believe in fairytales and happily ever afters. And music. Because the best stories always have a soundtrack.

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Reveal: The Redemption by Brooke Sivendra

The Redemption

by Brooke Sivendra A Deacon Thomas Novel Publication Date: January 31, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romantic Thriller

Preorder: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

He dug his hands into the wet, muddy soil, searching for his murdered girlfriend’s remains, but what he found was something very different… Deacon Thomas is facing his past and fighting for his future—for another chance at happiness. But when a dark secret emerges, one that shatters Marianne’s world, he will be forced to make a decision that will forever change his life. Deacon couldn’t save Nicole, but he’s determined that history will not repeat itself. This is his chance for redemption. The Redemption is the second and final installment of the Deacon Thomas Duet.

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They say time heals all wounds, but that’s a lie. . . Seven years ago, Deacon Thomas’s girlfriend was brutally murdered. Every single day, he lives with the crushing truth—they killed her to get to him. Time hasn’t healed his wounds. Not even a little. But he’s found one way to survive: to suppress the memories of her—the good and the bad. Until now. One image changes everything, and whether he wants to or not, life is going to force him to face his past. But life is also going to give him something else: a second chance at happiness—if he can find the strength to forgive himself.

About Brooke Sivendra

Brooke Sivendra lives in Adelaide, Australia with her husband and two furry children—Milly, a Rhodesian Ridgeback, and Lara, a massive Great Dane who is fifty pounds heavier than Brooke and thinks she is a lap dog! Brooke has a degree in Nuclear Medicine and worked in the field of medical research before launching her first business at the age of twenty-six. This business grew to be Australia’s premier online shopping directory and Brooke recently sold it to focus on her writing.

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Spotlight: The Only One by Necie Navone

The Only One
Necie Navone
(Brothers of Camelot, #1)
Publication date: December 15th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

The first in the Brothers of Camelot Series: The Only One

Can a man whore whose motto is “One and Done” keep it in his pants long enough to win back the trust of his childhood sweetheart?

Drake, otherwise known as Fitz, was dealt a tragic hand from the beginning. Pain and rejection melted away when a little girl with huge brown eyes, strawberry blonde curls and an explosive personality, walked into his new home and his heart.

Inseparable as kids, she’s literally ripped from his arms when they’re teens. Convincing himself he’s unworthy of her, he closed himself off to all future relationships, refusing to open his heart to anyone else. If only she would come back to him.

Isabella, with her unique personality, is the polar opposite of her rich socialite mother, with a determination and drive to be more than just someone’s country club showpiece.

She returns to her childhood town to start her own business, and prove she doesn’t need her mother, or a man, to feel complete. Thanks to her first love, her father’s betrayal and a slew of bad relationships, she’s locked her heart away, hidden behind her smile and sweet disposition. She’s found peace in her memories of Drake, hoping he’ll finally contact her, or maybe she’ll find the nerve to contact him.

Can their long-lost love be rekindled or do they need a little help from their friends?

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—

EXCERPT:

Just as I set the milk in the formerly empty fridge, Drake grabs me from behind, turning me to face him. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he lifts me into his arms. Spinning, he sets me on the huge island as if I weigh nothing at all.

Even as high as the counter is, he’s still just a tiny bit taller than me. At least we’re closer to eye level. Grabbing his tie, I pull him closer, getting lost for a moment in those forest green eyes, I’ve dreamt about being with him like this forever.

“And just what are you doing, putting me up here?”

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growls. Yes, growls. “I want to taste you so much, Bella. Can’t wait to see you in my shirt, in my bed. Hold you in my arms.

“So many nights I’ve spent in that bed, alone, thinking of calling you, imagining hunting you down and dragging you back to me. But stupidly, I decided to wait, give you the chance to call me, to come back to me,” Drake confesses.

At a loss for words, I continue to gaze into his eyes. Drake leans forward and slides my hair over my shoulder. My breath hitches as he trails kisses from my shoulder, up my neck, to behind my ear.

—

Author Bio:

Her Motto in life:
You are as young as you believe you are,
so refuse to grow old.

Necie's a married, mother of five boys. She was born and raised in Nashville, TN. But she now calls Northern California home.

She has always dreamed of being a writer but thought that dream was impossible because she suffers from severe dyslexia.
But with her determination and the love and support of her friends, she is making her dream a reality.

She'd love for you to join her on this voyage.
To share with you, 'The Brothers of Camelot'.
They've been living in her head and her dreams for years, clambering to get out.

Let the journey begin...

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