RELEASE DAY: Ashley Stambaugh "Torn"

Blurb:

Three months have passed and Melina thought she was safe. Safe from the effects of the angel powers and safe from the Noxin demons. But she thought too soon.

Just as she’s starting to enjoy her new powers and her new relationship with Lee, the slight pain she still experiences after using the powers starts to grow worse. As the pain becomes more and more unbearable, she finds herself lashing out at innocent people with unex-plained anger and hatred. Then to make matters worse, she sees a Noxin demon again.

No one, not even the elders, seems to know what’s happening to Melina, or how a Noxin demon found her. And when she’s introduced to Dean, another unique human like herself, she learns that his pain is completely gone, which only makes her situation even more con-fusing.

Grasping for any type of answer, Melina throws out one possible explanation after another. But as her angry feelings intensify, and her angel powers grow weaker, she begins to think there might be something malevolent inside her that’s trying to take over. It’s not long be-fore her internal struggle spirals out of control, and her body is turned into a battlefield that’s torn between good and evil.

Melina fears that if no solution is found, then she might lose all the people she loves, especially Lee. But what scares her even more is that she might lose herself to evil.

 

 

Author:

Ashley Stambaugh grew up in a small town in Illinois where she and her two siblings creat-ed some of the best memories playing on their family’s farm. She stayed in the southern re-gion of the state to attend college where she earned a Bachelor of Arts degree and also met her husband.

Now, she and her husband live in central Illinois and spend their time creating new memo-ries with their two rambunctious boys and their comical black Pug. She also enjoys reading, taking long walks, and finding great bargains. When her sons are a little bit older, she has a great desire to travel with her family. Oh, and she also has a slight obsession with chocolate.

When she’s not busy chasing after her two young children or losing herself in a good book, you can find her curled up on her couch with her laptop, writing.

 

 

 

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

 

Melina took a sip of her coffee and gazed out at the lightly falling snow. Mesmerized by its delicate beauty, she didn't even notice when someone took a seat in the chair across the table from her.

"How’d I know you'd be sitting at a window seat?" the voice mused.

Her eyes widened in excitement as she turned and smiled at the newcomer. There sat Lee, bundled up in his black wool coat, a gray and black plaid scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, his tawny hair messed about from the wind. She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss, a slight blush reddening her cheeks. They had been together for almost three months now, but she still got flushed and giddy around him.

She turned back to look out the window again. "It's breathtaking, isn't it?"

Lee chuckled. "Yeah, snow's pretty to watch. But if you know you have to drive in it later, it loses some of its luster."

"That's why I walked here," Melina said as she pointed down at her tall, black snow boots.

He smiled at her. "I'm happy to see your Christmas gift is being put to good use."

"These put my old pair to shame. They're much warmer. I can go for a lot more walks now." Melina grinned then returned her gaze to the snow. "I'm trying to catch sight of my first snowflake. It's snowed six times this month already, and I still haven't seen one."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities, seeing how it's only the third week of January and how much you love to watch snow." He let out another chuckle just as Nina, the owner of the café, showed up with his coffee.

She was a plump, older woman with short, spiky white hair and always had a smile on her face. "Good morning, Lee." She beamed at him as she set the steaming coffee mug down on the table. "I brought you your usual."

 "Thanks, Nina," he said and then took a sip of his drink.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. You two let me know if you need anything else." She gave them both a quick wave then made her way back to the front.

Lee looked back over at Melina. "I'm sorry I'm a bit late. I know you said you wanted to get out of here before the morning crowd arrived."

"It's all right," she said, shaking her head. "We still have about twenty minutes or so before the usual rush shows up."

He held her gaze, his light brown eyes full of concern.

Melina averted her eyes down to her coffee mug. She didn't want him to pick up on her anxiety, but she must've been doing a lousy job of hiding it, because she could still feel him staring at her.

"I'm okay," she said as she lifted her eyes back up to meet his. "I'm just—" Melina's voice cut off as she suddenly let out a short cry. Her hand shot up to her head as her face contorted in pain.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He jumped up from his chair and knelt down beside her.

She rubbed at her aching forehead as she struggled to speak. "Too many… people. Too many… thoughts. My head… it feels like it's… going to explode."

Lee furrowed his brows as he stood up from his knees and glanced around the room. "There aren't even ten other people in here."

A low groan escaped her. "It feels like a hundred." She continued to massage her temple when suddenly the pain intensified. "Ahh!” she screamed as she raised her other hand up to her temple. “My head feels like it's on fire now."

He quickly threw some money onto the table then slid his arm around Melina. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." He hoisted her up from her chair, and let his arm slip up underneath hers.

"It burns! It burns!" she cried as she squinted her eyes shut. "What is going on?"

"We're almost out of here. Hang on." There was a side exit a few steps away from them, and Lee led her out through the door as discreetly as he could. Melina hated not saying good-bye to Nina, but if she saw her in this state, she would become overly concerned and cause unnecessary stress.

They stepped outside and the windswept snow caused her to turn her face into Lee's shoulder. When they were several feet away from the café, she finally lifted her head and said, "I need to stop for a minute." She released her arm from around his neck but continued to lean on him.

"Okay," he said, keeping his arm wrapped snugly around her. "I'm parked just up at the end of the block. Do you think you can make it there?"

She nodded and slid her arm up around his neck again. When they had finally reached his SUV, he helped to ease her down into the passenger seat. He shut the door for her then ran around and climbed into the driver's seat.

"What happened in there?" he asked as he started the engine and turned on the heat.

 

RELEASE DAY: Sara Burr "Underground Rose"

Blurb:

After her surprise discovery of a mystical gift, fourteen-year-old Rose Wilson thinks her life is ruined. It turns out she comes from a long line of gifted women, and despite her protests, Rose’s mom ships her off to her grandmother’s house to spend the summer learning about her family’s well-hidden secrets. To make matters worse, Rose is expected to carry out this tradition alongside her mousy, bookworm cousin, Megan. What a waste of a summer.

With some effort, Rose and Megan manage to find common ground and by the time they get home, they’re working together to adjust to their new life. But everything is turned upside down again when their families are exposed by witch hunters who call themselves The Witches’ Hammer. With killers on the loose, their tiny town isn’t safe anymore. Rose’s entire family is fragmented and forced to flee through a network of hiding places, dubbed The Witches’ Underground Railroad.

As she journeys to the sea, Rose learns more and more about who she really is. The closer she gets to her destination, the more danger she encounters, until she is forced to make the ultimate decision: follow her family’s edict of non-violence and become an orphan, or save her mom’s life.

 

 

Author:

Sara has been entranced by the written word for as long as she can remember. The daughter of a school teacher, she fell in love with books as soon as she could read them. She wrote her very first story, about a girl who ran away and hid in her cousin’s lilac bush, when she was just eleven. Although her stories have grown more complicated and less petulant since then, Sara still loves to entertain kids with her words.

When she isn’t writing, Sara has a big family to keep her busy: a husband who is her other half, and four children who are wonderfully individual. They live next to a beautiful lake in a tiny town with no street lights. Sara spends lots of time taking care of little superheroes. She likes to camp with her family, enjoys traveling, and hopes to see the Northern Lights someday.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Prologue

Staring into the shadowy woods through the wooden bars of her cage, the girl vaguely wondered if they would burn her at the stake, or if they would sink her into the lake with stones in her pockets. That’s how they had killed her cousin, Catherine.

The girl had been declared a witch and there was nothing she could do about it now. They were going to kill her. She had panicked and wept for days when the realization of this had sunk in, but now she was empty, all emotion gone from her.

The awful priest came back and poked his stick through the bars to make her move back. He got her right between two ribs, and the pain of it made her cry out.

“Shut up, evil girl!” he screamed at her, spittle flying from the corners of his cracked lips. “Your horrible spells and incantations must not be uttered again.”

Putting her head down to avoid eye contact, she peeked at him through her dirty strands of red hair, studying his bulbous nose and thick dark eyebrows. She didn't understand how anyone could think he was honestly a man of God. Nothing about him was good or kind, and the man wasn’t charming or even nice. How had he convinced them all?

When they first captured her, she had cried endlessly and tried to convince them she had not made a pact with the devil. She didn’t understand how this had all happened. It was just a talent of hers, it wasn’t evil – it was more useful than anything she could do. Hurting the boy had been an accident. The fire had just gotten out of control.

She didn’t feel afraid anymore – she didn’t feel anything. It was like she was watching all of this happen to someone else. The sooner they killed her, the sooner she would be out of this miserable, caged existence. Truthfully, she could have burned the cage long ago and escaped, but it would be pointless. They would only hunt her down like an animal. And there was nowhere to run in these woods. There were plenty of stories about people disappearing into them, never to return.

The irony of the whole situation made her laugh, a hollow, emotionless sound, even to her own ears, and the priest poked her with his stick again. Feeling a burst of anger, she looked him in the eyes – a dangerous thing that may earn her another beating – and his stick burst into flame, burning his hand. He cried out and dropped it.

She laughed again. Burning the priest had been an accident, too. She hadn’t even meant to burn his stick. The unpredictable nature of this gift was what had gotten her into trouble to begin with, however this time, it was a happy accident.

Before he could retaliate, the whip cracked in the air and the horse began pulling. The wheels beneath her cage creaked and groaned as if they were dying of the plague, and then they lurched into motion, moving more slowly than a walking pace.

She was being taken to a monastery where the monks could determine her innocence or guilt, but she already knew the outcome. Once a woman was accused of witchcraft, she was always condemned to death. Besides, there was too much evidence against her, especially now that she had burned the priest.

“Do not despair, child,” the priest said, walking in pace with her cage. The horrible smirk on his pockmarked face combined with his yellow teeth made her cringe. “We will make sure you pay for your sins. Each and every one of them. You will do your penance, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul.” He made the sign of the cross from his forehead to his chest and shoulders.

As he moved to walk away, the girl heard a strange noise, like a combination of rattling trees and a pot boiling over into the fire. It was hard to tell from which direction it came.

The priest cocked his head and peered into the trees. “What do you suppose that noise is?” he said to the driver.

The driver just shrugged his skinny shoulders and urged the horse forward.

As the noise grew progressively louder, the priest studied the girl with suspicion. “This better not have something to do with you, witch,” he said, as he stalked towards the trees to investigate.

Just as he reached the tree line, he was swept off his feet by a rushing wave of water as high as his knees. He cried out and reached for the nearest branches, but he was swept away.

Understanding dawned on the girl. The stream they had been traveling alongside had somehow overflowed its banks. It made no sense – there was no rain. She gazed into the beautiful blue sky. There was not a cloud in sight, yet the growing mass of water was angrily searching for a new place to run to.

She thought she was ready to die, but she certainly had not expected it to be like this. Feeling lightheaded from panic, she stared hard at the wooden bar that held the lock to her cage. Concentrating as hard as she could, she hoped to produce a burst of flame, but she only saw a small wisp of smoke. Then, as she thought of the priest and his horrible sharp stick, a lick of flame immediately bloomed, releasing her from her prison.

By now, the noise of the raging water was deafening, and as she jumped from the burning cage, the water came all the way to the middle of her thighs. There was no dry ground in sight. Grabbing a nearby tree to remain upright, she surveyed the scene.

The priest was nowhere to be seen, and the horse was barely holding its footing. It was agitated and ready to bolt. Having lost control of the reigns, the driver balanced precariously on his seat.

The girl felt a hand on hers, and bracing herself for a battle, she tensed.

“Anna!” she heard a familiar voice cry.

Looking more closely, she saw that the person at her side was her sister. “Mary!” she cried, hugging her tightly. “You did this?”

RELEASE DAY: J.F. Jenkins "Inquest"

 

Blurb:

Teague Willam was sent on a mission from the future. He must go back in time to save his family. But in doing so, he might unleash the greatest evil the world has ever seen. The fine balance between the natural and spiritual is in his hands as he tries to not only save the life of a dear loved one, but also keep a rogue demon from taking control of the land of the liv-ing and the dead.

One wrong move and the demons win.

 

Author:

J.F. Jenkins lives in Minneapolis Minnesota with her husband, son, and two cats. She graduated from Bethel University in 2006 with a degree in Media Communication with minors in both writing and film

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

Teague Willam watched Persephone the First. She huddled in the corner of the small room that made up her "cell", curled into a ball as she hugged herself. With one hand, she held her head, as if in some kind of pain. Tears streamed down her face.

"Keep it together. You have to keep it together," she whispered to herself.

He wanted to offer her words of comfort, but in the dream world, all he could do was observe and take note of everything happening around him. As a Fate, Teague often dreamed about different events in vivid detail. Most of them were of the past — that was his specialty. Each Fate had a time frame they saw the most. His father Anj saw the present most often but was known to have visions of all three time frames: past, present, and future. However, Teague's abilities were nowhere near as strong , even though his visions were much more detailed than anything his father experienced. The few times they'd talked about it, Anj described his dreams as being short and to the point but not necessarily specific.

While Teague may have been dreaming about the past, it was also his present — confusing, but that was how time travel worked. He'd been sent to the past to right a terrible wrong. Whatever was happening to Persephone was technically occurring in the time frame his body was presently in. Because he was from the future, the incident represented his past. He wasn't about to complain. The more information he had, the better. He needed all the help he could get to complete his quest.

Teague couldn't provide Persephone with any direct comfort, but maybe in some small way, she could sense his presence. Magic had a way of making itself known even if no one could see it at work. If anything, it made him feel better inside.

"You're not alone," Teague said. "I won't leave you if I don't have to." He sat next to her, wanting to touch her but unable to do so.

When Persephone lifted her gaze, she did so and looked directly at him. Though, the young woman he saw wasn't Persephone but Cheyenne Loveless, the teenage girl Persephone had possessed. The whole possession thing confused Teague. There were a lot of pieces he was still trying to put together. From what he did understand, Cheyenne was the chosen vessel for Persephone to be reincarnated into and a long lost descendant of the original deity. Persephone's true love, Hades the First, was reincarnated into a teenage boy named Denver Collins. Together, they would fulfill an ancient prophecy that was supposed to bring back power to the Divine Council, the ancient political circle of the gods and goddesses who controlled the laws of all magical beings.

Poor Cheyenne. There was so much sadness in her gaze, and confusion. Teague felt sorry for her. She didn't always make the best decisions, but she also wasn't always in control of her life. The part of him that wanted to hate her for all of the pain she'd caused his family, got shot down by the compassion he held for her in his heart. Seeing her sad, fear-filled eyes, he realized she was nothing more than a girl and no different than himself. Because even though he was a teenager, there were days when he felt like a small child — and the world was a big place for him to get lost in. She was the same, a pawn being used for a greater scheme that she didn't understand. The world of magic was foreign to her — a fact he hadn't realized until that moment.

Footsteps could be heard from outside of the room. Cheyenne was still in control of her body, and she gazed at the door with a whimper. "He's coming. Stay strong."

There was a jingling of keys in a lock. The door opened and in walked the dark angel Lucien. Teague had seen him a few times before in other dreams. He could never forget what the creature looked like. On first appearances, he was just like any other normal young man. Lucien could have passed for being around twenty years old and was the typical tall, dark, and handsome thing that supposedly made girls swoon.

On his back was a pair of large, blood-red, wings speckled with flecks of silver that brought out his cold, lifeless, steel-gray eyes. First encounters with him suggested he was innocent enough, that he meant well. But the demon had a manipulative tongue and an evil heart. Nothing he said could be trusted. He didn't flat-out lie, but in every deal he proposed and in every truth he spoke, there was also a hidden loophole present, and he had no qualms with using it for his advantage. Or at least that was what Teague had observed over his many visions of the monster.

RELEASE DAY: Ariella Moon "Spell for Sophia"

 

Blurb:

Sophia Perez-Hidalgo’s survival depends upon her mastering magic and the supernatural before her lawless parents and their vengeful boss catch up to her. How far must she flee to escape them forever? Sophia runs until she’s out of stolen money, then…Fate delivers her into the arms of Louisiana teen Shi-loh Breaux Martine, and his grand-mère, a reclusive voodoo priestess living deep in the bayou.

 

Breaux knows Sophia is trouble — but he’ll travel through time, battle zombies, and risk his bright future to protect her. While Ainslie, best friend extraordinaire, will jeopardize her sanity to find and aid Sophia. When friendship, magic, and love are not enough, Sophia will have to save herself. But first, she must believe she’s worth saving.

 

 

Author:

Ariella Moon is the author of the Teen Wytche Saga, a sweet Young Adult paranormal series. Ariella writes about magic, friendship, high school, love and time travel, in Spell Check, Spell Struck, Spell Fire, and Spell For Sophia from Astraea Press.

Ariella spent her childhood searching for a magical wardrobe that would transport her to Narnia. Extreme math anxiety, and taller students who mistook her for a leaning post, marred her youth. Despite these horrors, she graduated summa cum laude from the University of California at Davis. Ariella is a Reiki Master, author, and shaman. She lives a nearly normal life with her extraordinary daughter, two shamelessly spoiled dogs, and an enormous dragon.

 

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Prologue

Two-and-a-half years ago

I'd thought escaping would uncoil the fear and worry squeezing my heart. I figured I'd stop looking over my shoulder once I crossed the California state line, or Arizona's, or New Mexico's, or the border between Texas and Louisiana. But I hadn't. Terror and hunger dogged me. I reeked of desperation. My head throbbed from all the bad decisions I had made since I'd found my bio-parents.

I could still pull out of this; save Christmas. Call Ainslie, the voice inside my head urged. I bet he'll loan you his phone. My gaze zeroed in on the leader of a ragtag group playing basketball on the schoolyard. His short black curls had been coaxed away from his face, revealing warm nutmeg-colored skin and kind, dark eyes. Fifteen years old? I wondered.

He handed the basketball to a young white girl, then glanced my way. His head-to-toe sweep took in my gaunt face, long inky hair, grungy jacket and jeans, scuffed ankle boots, and the school backpack at my feet. He glanced protectively at the little kids who shouted at the girl to pass the ball. Then his gaze migrated back to me. His mouth twisted to one side. I could hear the word tolling inside his head. Trouble.

I hunkered against the side of the school building and tugged my gray knit cap low over my forehead.

"Who's she?" A little kid with Christmas bows stuck on her wooly ponytails wrapped herself around the teen's leg. Her fearful stare gutted me. I'm pretty sure I had worn the same expression the first time I'd entered foster care.

Kick it. I pushed away from the wall. My vision blurred. My hollow stomach whirled and the schoolyard spun like a carousel ride. I braced myself against the cool bricks until the dizziness passed. Pull it together. It will be dark soon. I needed to find a restaurant or fast food joint — any place open on Christmas where I could dumpster dive for food scraps.

I lowered my eyelids and tried to picture the route I had walked from the train station. I hadn't planned on wandering through a lush Louisiana neighborhood. The children's shouts and laughter had lured me to the brick school and its asphalt playground. School had been my favorite place, before…

My thoughts torpedoed back to the barren southern California desert. Some developer had gone bust, and all that remained of his planned subdivision was a paved road dead-ending in sand. "Hide in plain sight," Mamá had said as Papá parked their pink-and-white vintage camper. The vehicle stood out among the sagebrush and creosote like a slash of bubblegum paint.

Hide what? I had wondered. I soon had my answer: a methamphetamine lab.

I rubbed my arms, creating an X over my chest. Embarrassment heated my cheeks. How stupid and naïve I had been. My parents hadn't gone legit. They were trying to evade the local cops and the Drug Enforcement Agency. They had planned to flee northern California without phoning my caseworker or me. If I had waited just one more day to contact them…

"See, the cops would be looking for a couple, not a family," I later overheard Papá boast to his boss.

"Weren't you worried they'd issue an Amber Alert?" one of the boss's henchmen asked, casting a sideways look at me.

"For a foster teen?" Papá scoffed. "They run away all the time."

My heart accelerated. Heat flooded my body. Gasoline fumes seared my nose and throat as if I still held the peanut butter jar full of siphoned petrol.

I forced my eyes open. The skin grafts on my throat and arm tightened like a noose and tourniquet. I managed a shaky step. The basketball thudding against the pavement stilled.

"You okay?" the boy called out.

My brain hunted for an answer and came up empty. When did I eat last?

Footsteps, rapid and rhythmic, raced toward me, growing louder with each footfall. My stomach whooshed. My eyes rolled back inside my head. The schoolyard went black and blinding starbursts flashed before my unseeing eyes. My legs floated away and I freefell backward.

The earthy scent of musk cologne and male sweat jolted me awake. Minutes must have passed. Sinewy arms carried me against a damp, solid chest.

"She's waking up," the white girl reported.

"Good." The boy's voice enveloped me like a fleece-lined blanket. "Everyone hold hands. We're going to cross after this truck."

My eyelids refused to open. I registered the rattle of a slow-moving pickup as it drove past. The boy's arms tensed. He tightened his hold on me, then stepped down off a curb.

"I can walk," I mumbled, pretty sure I felt like dead weight in his arms.

The boy chuckled. "Sure you can." He crossed the street without breaking stride, tensing again before he stepped up on the far curb. His heart drummed steadily against my ear. My eyes wedged open a slit.

"I'll fetch Miss Wanda," the younger of the two white girls said. She had the same heart-shaped face and blond braids as the older girl. She raced up the steps of a two-story house with pearl-colored siding. "Miss Wanda!" she shouted. Her sister followed, stooped beneath the weight of my backpack. She held two small children by the hand — Christmas Bow Girl and a boy who appeared to be about four.

RELEASE DAY: Andy Lewter "Gifted - A Valens Series"

  

Blurb:
The last thing Abigail Everett thought would happen over spring break was having her world shift into an entirely new perspective.

Unfortunately for her, that’s exactly what happened.

Between struggling to master her newly-formed abilities, coming face-to-face with dark, deceiving mind tricks by those that seek her leadership, and learning of a mythical world that she never deemed possible, Abigail risks everything with the future of mankind and the safety of its’ people in her hands.

About the Author:

Andy is a stay-home mom with two beautiful children. Between homework, playing, cooking and cleaning, she writes on the side. Most of her inspiration comes from life experiences that have brought her both pain and happiness - both of which have helped her grow. She also gets inspiration from the wonderful people that have touched her life, accompanied with crazy dreams she has nightly.

She is so excited to have finally touched the edges of her dream as an author. She grew a fond passion for writing when she was young, and this story has given her determination that she can indeed fulfill her childhood dream.

 

Now available on

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 Excerpt:

Chapter 1

I walked through a familiar door — the same door I had walked through every day for as long as I could remember. It was a door I recalled with a painful longing, yet I had no desire to relive the monstrous memories that were once behind it. I stepped past a stairway and turned towards the living room, ignoring the laundry basket strewn on its side and the scattered articles of clothing that lay across the floor — all looking as if they had been tripped over. I squinted through the beaming sunlight coming from the window, swiftly walked past the neglected, dust-covered piano, and finally entered the doorway to the kitchen.

I turned, and as expected, there he stood — just as he always did.

Beads of sweat dripped off his chin and onto his shirt. The familiar smell of aged whiskey mixed with sweat made my nose scrunch. It would always take him a minute to realize I was standing there.

He slowly turned his face up, his lazy blood-red eyes following — and finally he looked at me.

"Hi, dad," I choked out and forced a smile, because that's all I ever seemed to manage.

"Abby, you came home," he said, bewildered and confused.

 

I opened my eyes and pressed my face into my pillow as hard as I could. I'm not sure where this dream came from or how it started, but it's been recurring every night for the past year and a half.

My father passed away three summers ago, and I'd be lying if I said it was a surprise. I don't think my sister or I ever knew him sober, but he had enormous potential had it not been for the alcohol. He adored his wife and children, had a wonderful sense of humor and always found ways to pull a prank and catch someone off guard. We all knew what kind of person he could have been.

But his addiction took over and robbed us all.

My mother has always been a hard worker and tries to set the best example she can for my twin sister Olivia and me. After my father's passing, we moved away from Palmdale, California to the small town of Newton, Kansas. I got over the devastation of the population size about six months after living here and now find it predictable and boring. My sister on the other hand, has yet to be satisfied.

Olivia has always been the pretty, popular girl at our high school with too many friends to count. She's constantly talking about the small selection of boys at our school, then raves on and on about having to drive twenty miles south to Wichita just to buy a decent pair of jeans. Cheerleading and her social life always seem to be more important than her academic requirements. Frequently, she needs me to tutor her.

My twin sister and I are exact opposites of each other.

 From what my mom says, I supposedly inherited my father's intelligence. I have a straight-'A' average and it doesn't seem too difficult for me to keep up. Well, except for trigonometry.

I have hazel eyes, thick, long, dark brown hair, and quite often seem to be the one with a smart remark in a crowd. While I have plenty of acquaintances at school, I'm pretty sure these people only like me because I'm Olivia's sister. But I don't care. The only person I truly connect with at school is my best friend, Miles Kavin.

This was our third year living in Newton and our senior year was going by very quickly.

I drew in a deep breath and peeked over at the clock, hoping it was later than I thought it was.

"Ugh, five o'clock in the morning," I said groggily as I rubbed my eyes.

I rose out of my warm bed and threw on a light robe over my pajamas. Whatever happened to wanting to sleep in like a normal teenager? Instead, I am the one that always wakes up before dawn and gets ready for school like it's something I look forward to.

I glanced over to my window, predicting it had snowed or rained overnight. Even though it was the beginning of March, we were in Kansas and anything could happen when it came to the weather.