From Imagination To Publication

Friday, February 12, 2016

My Quotable Kid

It's been a while since I've done a personal post, but sometimes I just have to share those little snippets of my life that make me smile.

So I have this book called MY QUOTABLE KID. I've had it for years. Honestly, I've had it since way before kids, because it was just too cool of an idea to leave behind. It's just a simple journal to write funny things your kids say...and I've FINALLY been able to use it. So worth the wait. It's full of kid-isms, little nuggets of awesome that I'll have forever because I wrote them down!

Here are a few to brighten your day:

Matthew's response at age 2 when he saw his little brother JJ for the first time: "Where'd that come from?" ...furrow brow...


Gamma: "That makes me a little P.O.'ed"
Matthew: "P.O.'ed?"
Gamma: "Yeah. I'm P.O.'ed. Are you P.O.'ed Matthew?"
Matthew: "No. I'm not P.O.'ed. I'm Captain America."


We pulled up to Matthew's new swim school (a place he'd never been before) and he started sniffing the air like a dog.

I looked back at him in his car seat and asked, "What do you smell?"

He smiled and answered, "A swimming pool."


After a year of hearing Matthew say "police car" we finally realized this whole time he's been calling them "please cars"


Matthew likes to play in the car and act like he's driving.

I got in the passenger side, ready to play.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

Matthew: "Huh?"

Me: "Drive us. Where are we going?"

Matthew: "We're cruising for chics."


Matthew to Gamma who is eating a treat: "Hey, can I borrow that cookie?"


Matthew: "Mama, you're woman woman."

Me: "Woman, woman? You mean Wonder Woman?"

Matthew: "Yeah. Wonder Woman."


Matthew says to Daddy: "My mouth hurts." (meaning his throat)

Daddy: "Yeah, you caught mommy's bug."

Matthew comes to me and says: "Mommy, you put a bug in my mouth and it hurts really badly."


Daddy brings me flowers just because he's sweet.

Matthew: "Are those for Happy Birsarry?"

What makes you smile? Any funny quotes you can remember? 
If not...maybe you should write them down :)

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

R&R Challenge January Winner!

The goal of the Read & Review Challenge is to read 5 or more books from the R&R Library by March 31st. All books in the library are free! Each month there will be a giveaway for those who review the books they've read.

For details on how to take part in the challenge click here
To add your novel to the R&R Challenge Library click here.
Contact me @ with any questions or concerns.

This month's winner is...

Christa Yelich-Koth

Christa reviewed SOME FINE DAY by Kat Ross.

A generation ago, continent-sized storms called hypercanes caused the Earth to flood. The survivors were forced to retreat deep underground and build a new society.

This is the story that sixteen-year-old Jansin Nordqvist has heard all of her life.

Jansin grew up in a civilization far below the Earth’s surface. She’s spent the last eight years in military intelligence training. So when her parents surprise her with a coveted yet treacherous trip above ground, she’s prepared for anything. She’s especially thrilled to feel the fresh air, see the sun, and view the wide-open skies and the ocean for herself.

But when raiders attack Jansin’s camp and take her prisoner, she is forced to question everything she’s been taught. What do her captors want? How will she get back underground? And if she ever does, will she want to stay after learning the truth?

The review was posted on AMAZON.

5.0 out of 5 stars Global weather problems to the extreme!January 25, 2016
This review is from: Some Fine Day (Kindle Edition)
*I received this book directly from the author.* I thoroughly enjoyed this book! Kat Ross is an excellent writer--the book was fast-paced, intriguing, with vivid descriptions of both the underground "homes" and the surviving outdoors. A great adventure/conspiracy book. The main character felt believable as both a 16-year-old and a soldier. I look forward to reading more from this author.

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Cover Makeover: The Moorigad Dragon

The Age of the Hybrid Series is getting a complete makeover! It's been a long, drawn-out process, but the day is finally here—the NEW cover reveal for The Moorigad Dragon by Debra Kristi, a NA dark fantasy sure to have you anxiously turning the pages.

This novel is the first project Ghost Girl Publishing has worked on with the artist Adara Rosalie. They couldn't be more pleased. Don't you love the results? This cover reveal is also the first treasure to be shared in a month-long string of carnival delights. Be sure to watch Debra Kristi's Facebook Author page for fun teasers and extras. The Moorigad Dragon is available now on Amazon. While you're here, be sure to add the book to your Goodreads list! And by all means, share the cover on social media. Not just because we asked, but because it's amazing!
Delve into the magical world...

When Kyra, the Moorigad dragon-shifter, unwittingly finds herself at Mystic’s Carnival, a supernatural world between realms, she believes her runaway days are finished. Amidst the carnies and never-ending magic, she finds a home of the heart – friends and belonging among a gathering of paranormal beings. However, living an uncomplicated life was never one of Kyra’s strengths.

Kyra is pulled to Marcus by something supernatural. After saving his life, she finds herself bound to protect him. A bond stirring tension between Kyra and her best friend, Sebastian. The other problem, it's not easy defying Death. And yet, Kyra is determined―even at the cost of her own life.

About the Author:

Debra Kristi 

in The Moorigad Dragon NEW Cover Reveal by Ghost Girl PublishingAUTHOR. CAT LOVER. GEEK. MOTHER. WIFE. D.I.Y. JUNKIE.

Born and raised a Southern California girl, Debra Kristi still resides in the sunny state with her husband, two kids, and four schizophrenic cats.

Her love for the fantastical began at a very young age, when her imagination magically transformed the backyard swing set into the U.S.S. Enterprise. Since then she's had a lifelong love of science fiction, fantasy, and creative storytelling.

Unlike the characters she often writes, Debra is not immortal and her only superpower is letting the dishes and laundry pile up. When not writing, she is usually creating memories with her family, geeking out to sci-fi and fantasy television, and tossing out movie quotes.

Connect with her on social media: Website Instagram Facebook Pinterest Twitter Tumblr Google+

Monday, February 8, 2016

Monday Morning Sneak Peek: EL AWAKE by Jordan Sala Tenna

Did a weekend of reading leave you wanting more? 
Sneaking peeks of your newest novel from under
your desk at work? 

For the eternal is your 
Monday Morning Sneak Peek!


Congrats to Acorn Publishing author, Jordan Sala Tenna, on the upcoming release of his debut novel, EL AWAKE. Below you will find the first chapter of his book! If you like it, please add it to your to-be-read list on GoodReads! :)

EL AWAKE by Jordan Sala Tenna

In the year 2115, Eleutherius (El) is struggling to find meaning in a city where most are strangely submissive and unquestioning towards the absolute rule of the merciless authorities. But after discovering the dark truth behind the white city, El ventures on a fast paced and thrilling journey to fight for the freedom of a people he once resented. 

Guided by his now-deceased grandfather's poems, El must face great suffering in order to grow stronger and accomplish the work his Grandfather began, all the while struggling against questions of morality and discerning who is friend and who is foe.


~ 5.16.16 ~


"HEY HAMPSTER!" BOOMS the haughty voice of Derrius, the 6'3" heavy set monster who is bent on making me eat the floor in gridball.
His flaring dark black hair that opposes gravity, along with shaved sides, seems to be the trending style this year. A small vertical line tattoo under his right eye pulses with blue electricity, a telling sign of his parents wealth. My name is El Hanheim, which somehow equates to hamster in his puzzled mind.
“I’ll see you out there,” he says with a wink, before placing his fluorescent red helmet over his head and leaving the change rooms.
He clearly wants to get in my head before the game begins. I know how his animalistic brain works, and I can't let him get the jump on me. Showing I'm not intimidated, I welcome his invitation, slip on my black Ballistic catch gloves and slide my thin, black glossed helmet over my blonde hair before jogging towards the bowl, giving him a nudge of my shoulder as I slide on by.
Jumping into the arena, the magnetic force underneath exerts itself on my boots and armour, forcing me to hover as I glide down the steep edge of the bowl.

The bowl is where the action transpires. The rectangular flooring is sixty-one metres long and thirty-one metres wide. From there, the floor curves steadily to extend four metres high and a further five metres wide and long, effectively making a large rectangular bowl. A thick plastic cover mirrors the arena on top, making sure the game ball never escapes.
People are always a little nervous before playing gridball. There’s no going half-hearted. Every moment you must be on your guard, every throw your best, every hit your hardest, no holding back. Or you may become one with the floor.
I hover freely around the bowl, gliding and dipping around the curved banked walls, practising my cut turns. The feeling is exhilarating. Here I feel at home. In class focussing is difficult, but in the bowl everything is clear. I can see the game unfolding before it does, predict what interference the opponent’s operator is planning on using, and slip through the opposition’s defence like wind through trees. I practise throwing the 200 gram, ten centimetre diameter metal game ball into the air and catching it while sliding backwards over the air gap between my boots and the floor.
We are separated into our teams, seven a side, one goal tender, one operator, and five skaters. By the sound of the boastful talk and dominance-asserting shoving, it is clear the game is about to be under way. We embrace our positions. I stand two metres from the centre of the court, where the ground will soon give birth to the ball which will shoot vertically upwards to start the game. Behind me, my team mates are in a staggered formation, ready for me to pass back the ball. I can see Derrius in the back line of his team, his eyes glued on mine, those eyes that not long ago winked boyishly at me, now seem intent on seeing me know pain.
The bowl is eerily quiet. My eyes now glued on the centre of the field. The buzzer sounds, sometime within the next ten seconds, the ball will shoot forth.
It’s no more than three seconds before my eyes catch the metal fire upwards from below. My opposing attacker is my height with a little more weight. He jumps to reach the ball, but I can see he has launched too early. I wait - then spring upwards towards it, with my right hand in the air, I begin to close my hand and suck the ball in. As soon as I feel it reach my palm, I turn my hand and open it back up, the magnet-riddled glove projecting the ball towards the team-mates behind me.  
I land and turn to see that Glasgow has caught the ball on the left side of the bowl, on our half. Glasgow is strong, but slow, the kind who can make a big hit without having to move. I skate to the left side of the bowl at full pace in an attempt to create an opening to receive the metal sphere. I make a mental note that on the right side of the bowl is Maximus, who is highly intelligent, yet no so apt at the game of gridball. Nevertheless, he is open, and an open player is always useful.
“Glasgow!” I call as I am speeding towards the left side of the field.
With an opponent bearing down, he releases his hand and the ball shoots towards me. I catch it as I enter the ramp. I gain air, turn to see Maximus still open on the right side, and throw my arm while releasing my hand, projecting the ball quickly to Maximus. I know immediately I have thrown it too hard for someone of his capabilities.
His eyes widen as he sees the silver metal speeding towards him. My gut sinks as I land back down the ramp, eluding an opponent and diagonally heading towards the goal. But before I am able to call for the ball back, I see Maximus make an amateur mistake. He has drawn his hand in too fast, and the ball has sucked onto his palm, crushing his fingers and making him completely unable to open his hand to project the ball. He yelps in pain and follows one bad mistake with one even worse – he stops.
Desperately he tries to lift his fingers from the weight of the 200 gram metal ball. Knowing the sense of urgency, he shifts his view up to see who’s approaching. An opposing player is bearing down, but our operator takes charge, using one of his five magnetic interferences he is able to create a sudden downwards force that pulls the oncoming attacker to the ground, rendering him stuck. But it's not enough. Derrius has moved from his back line and at speed, smashes into Maximus with both forearms extending as he impacts, sending Maximus hurling three metres back. He lands hard on the floor, ball still in hand. The sound of sympathetic “oohs” emanate from the onlookers.
The opposing team is awarded an obvious penalty shot, though for Maximus, this is the least of his worries. The medic and Coach Farris rush into the bowl and, on a stretcher, carry out the beaten and barely conscious Maximus, who likely has broken fingers and some bruised, if not broken ribs. They pry the ball from his fingers and throw it back into the bowl. In an ideal world, people would condemn Derrius’ overzealous actions, but this is no ideal world. Even my own team mates are congratulating Derrius on what was apparently a perfect hit.
I should have known better when I threw that ball. And the thought of what I have done has left me wanting to press rewind. We all stand still and watch as Maximus is lifted over the lip of the bowl and out of the plastic dome. Maximus gingerly stands up, gives a thumbs up to everyone in the bowl with his good hand, and walks off with the medic nursing his injured hand.
Emphatic shouts and laughter echo around the dome at the sight of the thumbs up. Coach Farris congratulates Derrius on the hit and we get back to the game, one man down. Son of a bitch, I think as I lock eyes with Derrius. I play well usually, but I play especially well when I’m angry, so I choose to foster the anger, keeping it ready to release as soon as I can make a hit on Derrius. 

The game comes to a close, with the final score at five to three in our favour. We managed to come back with one man down, and although I scored three of the five goals, I enter the brightly illuminated change rooms feeling unsatisfied at not making solid contact on Derrius. The normal cheap talk circulates and I change quickly to get out of there. Sitting and watching the girls play for a few minutes, I realise I’m parched and head outside to the water fountain. I patiently wait my turn in the line of sweat-drenched sixteen year old guys and eventually get my chance. But as I go to put my hand in front of the sensor to start the cold flow of water, Derrius jumps in front of me.
“Not so fast, Hamster,” he says as he puts his head down to drink.
Anger rises and spills over into every cell of my body. A combination of my unresolved ire from the game and the irritation from his bald rudeness, I lose it. I push the back of his head hard into the fountain, grab him by his collar and throw him onto his back. Blood flows from his bottom lip. Oh no, this is what mum didn’t want. I can see he hasn’t taken this well as his eyes narrow with aggression.
Either I kick him in the face and end this fight before it starts, or I run. Really there’s only one option. Running would only delay things. I go with the former and as he begins to rise to his feet, I smash my right foot into his face. His body goes limp. This isn’t good. I turn to see everyone’s face and mouths wide open, eyes not quite sure what they have seen. It’s now I should walk away, but instead, I get a handful of water and drop it on Derrius’ crotch. I am already in serious trouble so I may as well get a few laughs from my audience and further humiliate this jerk. I know my next best move is to tell the coach what happened. At least that way it might seem that I'm regretful.
I do so and soon gentle piano music signals the days end. Principle Martin has assured me that tomorrow I will face serious consequences; probably a good whipping in front of the school.
I begin to leave the perfectly manicured school grounds that surround the seamless pearl white panelled buildings, but there is still no sight of Ace, my best friend. Strange, given every day since high school began we have met by the ivory coloured Lion of Justice statue before taking the train home. Something is different today, usually as I am leaving, this particular area is crawling with teachers and juniors, but today there is no one. I walk around a corner and find my answer. A group of five seventeen-year-old, growth injected boys are waiting for me. It's not long before I discover the reason. At the head of the pack is Finn Brownly, brother of the well-known recent victim, Derrius Brownly. Is this what Principle Martin meant by serious consequences? Would he really condone this? My gut tells me yes and the lack of teachers affirms my feeling.
“You really shouldn’t have hurt my brother, El,” Finn says, his head tilted up, eyes peering down at me.
Before I can reply with a smart-ass comment, I hear a voice come from behind Finn.
“And you really shouldn’t have hit me,” comes the voice of an old rival I have been purposely avoiding for some time.
Ace aptly named him the Captain, derived from his outstanding primal leadership qualities. I guess he never forgot that incident a few months back when I had to defend Ace from an all-out war after he lunged onto the Captain’s girl and forced his lips onto hers for one of his social experiments. Chief ape protecting mating partner type stuff. Standard social etiquette has never been one of Ace's strong suits.
I need to come up with an intelligent response, but nothing comes to mind, so I just stare unflinchingly into Finn’s eyes, straightening my neck, with my hands in pants pockets. He walks steadily towards me. I don’t react. He stands inches from my face, and without notice, his hands shoot to my collar and he thrusts me up against the wall, lifting me so I am only on my toes, my eyes in line with his.
“This is going to hurt you a lot more than you hurt Derrius,” Finn says.
He looks even bigger up close, and older. I can see the stubble on his face and smell the stench of his breath. I contemplate playing submissive and letting him beat me. Maybe Principal Martin would consider that justice and relieve me from being whipped. But I am far too prideful and right now, he is far too vulnerable. In fact, I was hoping he would put me in this situation. I need to act quickly and make my strikes decisive. I pull my head back and slam it forward into his nose. Immediately blood streams down his face and he releases me, cupping his hands over his face. I drop low and strike my fist hard into his testicles. He buckles over and I throw him onto the ground. The group who once stood so confident is now hesitating in disbelief, giving me time to run. But I’m not running away from the school, instead I’m running deeper into it.
“Kill him!” is all I hear behind me, the voice of a deranged, blood-raged murderer.
The stampede of pounding footsteps is close behind me, but I arrive at somewhat of a plan as I forge my way down the immaculate and unblemished hallways. My chances of victory in the open are slim, but in a confined space with a weapon, I have better odds.
I dart left into the class I have math in. It’s no accident. In this class I know there is a one metre solid plastic ruler behind the teacher’s desk. The three remaining brutes enter the class as I back up into the corner, one side protected by the teacher’s desk, the ruler hidden in my hand behind my back. One of the brutes must have stayed with Finn. My position forces my enemies into a funnel. It seems we drew attention running across the school as now there are faces plastered to every window of the room, eyes wide, hoping to see a fight. I have a feeling they will get their fill. As expected, it’s the Captain who wants the first piece of action. His artificially enhanced pale skin brings out the red on his cheeks from the chase. His shaved head and gold band neck tattoo give an almost ancient Egyptian appearance.
“You ran the wrong way, little man. I’m going to enjoy seeing your blood paint this floor.”
His fists rise, ready to strike. He charges forward, but before he reaches me I swiftly pull the ruler from behind my back. I bend my knees, lowering my body and swing from my right side, hitting the side of his left knee with the edge of the ruler. He buckles which gives me time to raise my body and swing a fierce blow to his head. The corner of the ruler catches the temple of his forehead, right where the flashing red light of the stimulation chip lies buried beneath the skin. Blood squirts out, but for some reason, a moment after I hit, he strains for his chest and drops to the ground. The light in his stim chip switches off. This makes no sense, though I have little time to analyse this as the next brute is charging towards me from my right side. I swing for his head, not trying to make contact but to keep distance between us. I don’t know who this one is. We hold distance for a few seconds, and I can see he is shaking. The confidence that once was, is no more.
“Enough,” is all he manages to get out.
Together the remaining two attackers drag the barely conscious Captain out of the room, leaving me standing there with the wide-eyed faces peering in at me through the windows. I wipe the blood off the ruler with a nearby tissue and move quickly to exit the room and get off the school grounds. I don’t know what awaits me tomorrow, but I know right now I need to get out of here.
I realise that I am running late for my train home, so I begin to run to make up for lost time. As I leave the school grounds, I glance up to see the usual bright Sojourn sun, its warm rays beaming down as my one-piece school uniform keeps me cool by circulating gel throughout. After running across manicured white streets and past glistening white and red city buildings, I arrive at the station to see Kaiya standing at terminal three. I’m not too late.
“Where have you been? And why is there blood on your sleeve?” she asks, the high pitch of her voice showing her concern.
I didn’t notice the blood. It must have landed on me after I head butted Finn. It’s not exactly hard to see against the snow-coloured school uniform.
“I got into a fight,” I say without making eye contact.
“What! With who? And how bad?”
I pace her through the story starting with the incident in gridball. The look on her 17 year old face goes from distressed to horrified, back to distressed, and finally to relief as I recount getting away unharmed.
“Jeez, El, mum is going to be so angry with you.”
“Mum’s the least of my worries right now,” I exclaim, boarding the train.
I really don’t know what tomorrow holds for me. Surely there is a public flogging for what I did to Derrius at the fountain, but I'm not so sure if there will be consequences for fighting the others. After all, I was only acting in self-defence, wasn’t I?
“I guess we'll be standing,” Kaiya says, grabbing a hold of the overhead bar as she shifts her view from one end of the crowded train to the other before sighing. “Did you hear about Ace?” she asks.
I had completely forgotten about him. It's been so odd not to see him after arriving at school in the morning.
“No, what happened?”

“Two overseers escorted him into their car.”

Friday, February 5, 2016

MY PUBLISHING JOURNEY: Author Sangu Mandanna

Have you ever wondered how authors get their start?
How do they get agents?
How do they get published?
Is it luck? Talent? Drive?

This segment is an attempt to satisfy my immense answer the one question I'm dying to ask every author out there: 

How did your book become a book?


Debra Kristi
Author of 

Thanks for having me, Jessica. The idea of people enjoying my written stories is still such a foreign thought to me. That goes to show how we can all be so critical of our own work. It’s been close to ten years since my writing journey began and it has been anything but smooth. I had a lot to learn about the craft and publishing. I took class after class after class, immersing myself in everything from active voice to deep editing, and asked a ton of questions. As a result, I’ve become a stronger, more confident writer with a mild understanding of the publishing process.

Do you have an agent?
At this time I don’t have an agent. When I first decided my work was ready, I sent out a total of three queries of which garnered two replies. One was a recommendation to revise and resubmit. I never followed through. Instead, I chose to fly solo on my current projects. I don’t intend to stay that way, but it was the path I picked for my start. My father always said to never put all your eggs in one basket, a sentiment I’ve taken to heart. Eventually, I plan to submit certain projects for representation with the hope of becoming a hybrid author.

What made you decide to self-publish?
To self-publish or hold out for a traditional contract, that’s a tough choice every writer must make for themselves. I struggled with that decision for a long time. Then a little over a year ago, a fellow author asked me to participate in a self-published collaboration: individual stories with a shared world. The project not only appealed to me but blossomed into my soon to be completed Moorigad story. Needless to say, I jumped in and took on the role as a self-published author releasing my first book at the end of 2014.  

Did you do everything yourself (such as cover design, formatting, etc.) or did you hire out?
Because I don’t have the time or the knowhow, I hire out for formatting and cover design. But having said that, there are some amazing programs available that will help you if you have the time and desire to do it all yourself and save the cost. If you are considering self-publishing, I recommend you do your homework in this area. Presentation matters. Familiarize yourself with what’s on the market and what’s selling in your genre, then choose accordingly. Don’t cut corners. Remember, the end product represents you. It’s because of these lessons my Moorigad Series is about to get a completely new look.

Which platforms do you publish through?
Most of the platforms are fairly easy to learn. My work is uploaded directly to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Draft to Digital, and Smashwords. Through D2D and Smashwords everything is then distributed to iTunes and many others. Although, iTunes and Google Play are two I plan to master in the coming year. I also plan on taking on iTunes, directly. I currently use Createspace for all paperbacks but I’m in the process of moving to IngramSpark, Even though Createspace is the more economical choice, IngramSpark will allow your product to reach a wider market which is what we really want – to reach our readers everywhere. The next step for me is audio. It’s a huge market and another one of my goals for 2016.

What do you like or dislike about self-publishing?
Control over all the aspects is a major plus. I can decide what stays in my story and what goes. If I don’t like a cover, I won’t use it. If I need more time on a project, I take it. Then again, the same things I love controlling can hurt me when I don’t fully grasp what’s best for the market. If I were traditionally published I’d have guidance in these areas, so it’s a tradeoff. I’d like to think I’d have more time to write if I were traditionally published. Hanging out on Social Media is outside of my comfort zone, and yet I do it often. But honestly, in today’s publishing climate, in order to get noticed, I’d probably have to put the same amount of time into the social aspect if I were traditionally published as I do now.

Looking back would you do anything differently?
Yes, without a doubt. Had to do it all over again I would have waited until one series was completed before releasing any off the books. That way each book in the series could roll out one right after the other or all come out at the same time. Had I done that, I probably would have spent more time and effort on marketing the initial release. To date I haven’t done a lot of marketing. It’s not my strong suit.

What lessons have you learned?
There is so much to learn when self-publishing and I’ve made plenty of mistakes in the process. Some: costly, some: massive time-wasters. But in the end, the work has come together. The one thing I’ve learned and hold true as my golden rule: Don’t put anything less than your best forward. Personally, I run my work through multiple editors and at least one additional professional proofreader. I research choices before making a move and I ask a lot of questions. The thing about self-publishing, there’s room for learning and mistakes, and everyone’s path will vary. Don’t try to duplicate another’s success, carve your own and then see things through.

Any advice for those about to go down your path?
Frustration is inevitable. Don’t lose heart. Anything worthwhile is a challenge. Get involved, get educated, get connected, and follow writer and publishing blogs. Ask questions and then research those questions and answers. Free advice isn’t always the best advice so be willing to do some ground work to support your findings. In general, authors are a rather supportive group. Step in and get to know us.

Can you provide names and/or contacts for the following?

Formatter: Book Cover Corner
Cover Designer: Adara Rosalie, Book Cover Corner, Vila Design
Promotion and/or marketing: The Fussy Librarian, eBooksHabit, StoryFinds, BookBub, FreeBooksy, Hotzippy, eBookLister, to name a few.
Blog Tour Organizer, etc.: YA Bound Book Tours, BookRhythm, Promotional Book Tours
Other: Choosy Bookworm

Ana's world is falling apart. What she thought were dreams start entering her waking life. Eerie shadows hunt her. Her dream guy becomes reality. And strange new abilities begin developing. Ana is becoming something "other." She is determined to find answers, but where to turn? Her mom and best friend are keeping secrets. Her older sister is dead and exists only in her dreams. And her younger sister thinks they are goddesses.

Above all else, dark forces will stop at nothing to crush Ana - to keep her from restoring balance. To keep her from... "becoming."

Is love and blood and sisterhood enough to stop the dark secrets and power from destroying her?