Author: Angie

The Last Flag Race the Dead Book 1 by Wren Cavanagh Genre: Dystopian Horror, Thriller

What would you do to pay the bills; to survive, or to just get rich, would you compete against other teams in a quarantined town filthy with zombies wanting to bite out your throat? Emma and Lewis sign up for the race, they need the money to save his life. But they won’t just be racing the dead, the surprise blizzard or the other contestants. Because anger and vengeance know no bounds and like everyone in the blighted town they become pawns in a game of retribution. The contestants become nothing more than live entertainment to viewers who watch and judge their every move in the town of Prideful as they race each other to arrive alive to a final flag. The team that makes will get airlifted out alive and go back home richer for it, the others walk back to a pittance and if they are not careful. They won’t get out at all. Add to Goodreads Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Wren Cavanagh, that would be me. Also writes under the pen name Junior Sokolov. An artist and writer from great North West. I am grateful that I have this opportunity to share my work and imagination with you. Growing up my head was always stuck in a book or a comic book (before they got fancy and got the moniker “graphic novels”). More often than not those books were filled with monsters, werewolves and vampires. Then the likes of Godzilla showed up along with their brethren, born from the very justified fear of the atomic bomb and its consequences. And that is what I love. Escaping into worlds of monsters and heroes, and sometimes they are one and the same! Letting my imagination run along and bring into the narrative what I see around me everyday. I hope that you will enjoy my stories. Find in them a temporary and enjoyable escape of your own. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

SHOW TIME
The helicopters lifted off from their respective locations at the town’s cardinal points. For the
landings, the pilots made a show of finding a good spot, good editing would do the rest. It would
create the impression of action and urgency where there wasn’t much of it; for ‘safety’ the pilots
hovered close to ground and let the members of the four teams jump out of the open doors. All
a show—a few ladders and some thick blankets thrown over the barbed wire would have
worked as well. Or cutting a hole in the fence. But cutting through it would have caused legal
issues, worse, the noises might eventually draw out some of the town’s current inhabitants. And
everyone wanted intact fences between them and the turned.
The players now had two days to reach as many flags as possible. They would be told how
many flags the other teams had, for added pressure. If they went past two days the cash pot
would drop hourly by hundreds of thousands of dollars. A million today not being what it used to
be, the contestant had better be hauling ass.
The video streams from the aerial drones, the helicopters, and the cameramen showed that
most of the teams had gotten quickly organized once they hit the ground, and trotted off without
a hitch. With one exception: The voice of the senior editor came in through Tom’s headset.
“Tom, first fuck up.”
“Great, who is it?”
“Joe from Striker,” replied the man as he zoomed in on the feed for the team.
Tom nodded, he looked at the fallen man on his tablet and opened his microphone. His voice
came in over the video feed. “It looks like we have a player down. A player in danger! And that
can put his team mates in danger. Joe Rosling from team Striker is on the ground and not
getting up! Team striker has hit the ground and is already behind. Joe Rosling! Joe, looks like
you got hurt there.”
Joe, the Army vet, tall and wiry, with wild shoulder length brown hair tied back in a pony tail and
biker mustache, sat grimacing on the ground. He looked embarrassed and his lips formed a
tight white line on a face from which pain had already drained all color.
“Just a sprain. I’ll be okay.” He gasped through clenched teeth and killed any credibility his reply
might have had. Joe tried to get up and held his hand out to Lew for support. With the other
man’s help he
struggled to his feet, but when he tried to put weight on the hurt foot he gave a sharp cry and fell
back on his ass.
The awkward silence and frustration was palpable as the camera feed streamed on and minutes
passed. Ross Boulez, the team’s assigned cameraman, panned in on the reaction of the team
members.
Embarrassment, anger and impatience were the predominant emotions.
“Think you can keep going, Joe?” Tom asked. “Your team is waiting on you. Do you need to be
extracted?”
The man shook his head. “I’m good.” With a pained, tight lipped expression and Lew’ help, he
managed to get back up and started walking. Emma and Lew clapped and patted him on the
back, but they looked doubtful. The team left at a slow trot that soon turned into a slow walk,

and then to a funeral procession pace march as Joe limped along and kept up as best he could.

“That guy is done. Right now he’s just looking pathetic.” Said Fats “So far, so boring. Where are
all the dead people? I don’t see dead people.
Our viewers want to see dead people.”
“They’re there,” Cheryl snapped.
“Hooo! I see one!” A junior executive whose name no one had yet bothered to remember

pointed excitedly at one of the screens. “I see one!”

Once pointed out and seen, the dead man could not be unseen. It was at the south-most point
of the town, as the She Devils progressed past a tire retailer where the haggard apparition came
out of one of the open bays. So well had the lack of life, the dust and grime camouflaged the
man, that he had seemed invisible as he stood by a grimy and scuffed wall, unnoticed until he
finally moved.

The gray man incongruously dressed in a disheveled gray three piece suit, covered in dirt and
dust, had blended perfectly with the gray cement walls of the bay. He staggered out like a
careful drunk and made his way toward the women like a man in no hurry, a man with nowhere
special to go.
Cho, the team leader and weapon bearer, passed him by blithely, without noticing as did Kate
Keller,they were both gazing straight ahead as if already locking on the final goal. Both women
were oblivious to the threat and it was Xhiu Lee, the shy one who carried the food and first aid
kits and already dragged behind, who saw him.
“Hey! Everyone! Look to your left!”
The two women up front stopped in their jog and turned their attention to where Xhiu was
pointing. The expressionless man continued his approach but now seemed to be struggling to
hasten his pace. They all looked unsure on how to proceed. They had seen the Turned on the
news and in the movies. But most people had yet run into them one on one. In the movies they
were zombies, gory, noisy semi-dismembered corpses whose most prominent features were
their teeth. You popped them in the head and that was it. Show business always made killing
look easy.
“He looks…” Xhiu hesitated, “…normal.”
“From a distance maybe, look at his eyes,” Kate whispered.
Now a few feet away, the man’s eyes were easily visible. Opaque, cloudy pupils, the left eye
was rotted and blown, visibly larger than the right.
“Okay,” conceded Xhiu, “not even close to normal.”
The forlorn figure staggered faster toward them.
“Wow. It’s like he’s getting desperate to reach us. Sad. C’mon, let’s go people,” Cho said.
The three women looked at each other, shrugged and resumed their run with none of the
arrogance and levity they displayed at the start of the race. The dead man began to follow them,
but slow and unsteady, he was soon left behind.

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The Merewyrm’s Tooth Animal Kingdoms Book 1 by Oliver Paglia Genre: Epic Fantasy

Faharen was a contented enough young lad, living a simple farming life with his adopted kin the Manxii, on the North Western Plain of the Animal Kingdoms. After a mysterious blight begins to ravage the pastures of his homeland, he must embark on a perilous quest only he can complete; to cross the Great Forest, entering the Realms of Men to retrieve a piece of ivory with healing properties from a legendary monster, the Merewyrm; a creature so ancient it predates both man and animal kind. Not long into his journey, it dawns on Faharen that he is part of a much larger, darker world than he thought existed and must mine hidden depths he wasn’t aware he possessed to survive. Created by the gods to divide fallen men from the faithful animals and forsaken by them long ago, traversing the Great Forest will not be easy, for it hides many malevolent creatures such as the Satyrs to name but one; a half man, half cloven hooved beast that knows only spite and treachery! With the body of a man and the heart of a Manxii, Faharen must do what is deemed impossible; cross the worlds to save his people. Goodreads * Amazon

Gauntlet of Wrath Animal Kingdoms Book 2

Residing in a monastery far to the east of the North Western Plain, troubling nightmares stalk Faharen’s sleep as he seeks inner peace and answers to profound questions, stirred up by his quest for the Merewyrm’s tooth. But in the Realms of Men, all is not well. Out of the deserts to the south, like a sandstorm on an ill wind, a force of occultists, led by an armoured giant calling himself the Ferra Demiurge, or Forged Lord, wielding the strongest ever blades made of a mysterious metal, have taken the Achaean lands by coup and sorcery. Their ambition and greed is insatiable and the Demiurge will not be satisfied until the entire known world is his, including what lies beyond the Great Forest. With the worlds of the Animal Kingdoms and men alike set in flux by recent events, the ancient prophecy of the wild men seems to be unravelling. Now, all those standing against the Achaeans will be tested in their defence of the sacred. Some will conquer, some will die, but all will struggle to survive. Goodreads * Amazon

Oliver Paglia is a writer/filmmaker and was born and bred in Hampshire, south England, where he grew up on a small farm in the picturesque Test valley countryside. He now lives in Reykjavik, Iceland with his veterinary nurse partner, Snæfriður Stefanssdottír. For many years Oliver has worked as a videographer in England and has a substantial portfolio of commercial and artistic film work spanning a broad variety of subjects. Oliver’s artistic preoccupation is with the mythic; it is his view that it is one of the highest forms of artistic expression. It can be vague, yet illuminating, without a contemporary context yet insightful as to the human condition, absurd yet wise and dark yet moral. The legends of old are the stories that resonate with us on all levels. As the late Professor Joseph Campbell put it, “The myth is the public domain and the dream is the private myth. If your private myth, your dream, happens to coincide with that of the society, you are in good accord with your group. If it isn’t, you’ve got a long adventure in the dark forest ahead of you.” Also, “Myth must be kept alive. The people who can keep it alive are the artists of one kind or another.” And that is what Oliver hopes to do, to keep myth alive in his own modest way. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads

The first thing Faharen saw as he awoke was a modest portion of
cold venison left on a well chewed bone. After everything he’d
experienced since the spring, it was enough to make him smile. The
smell of thick smoke followed afterwards. Looking over the cliff,

Faharen saw one of the wild men stamping out the fire below while
the rest draped themselves in their crude, animal skin clothing.
Before long the group made off across the flat, dry, gravel valley
floor. Faharen descended to their campsite once again and waited
until they had travelled a safe distance. The only thing they left of
yesterday’s kill was a few bones and its skin. This had been partially
cleaned and spread out in the sun, destined to be another item of
clothing no doubt.
Trekking across the barren, open landscape was a surreal experience
in contrast to the claustrophobic cliffs and sharp, jutting rocks of the
previous days. Faharen was surprised at himself for not being more
anxious than he was, though caution prevailed as the wild men
remained just in sight ahead of him. Large, fissured tracks ran
through the rocky land, though there was no water to be seen.
It didn’t take them long to traverse it and more sloping cliffs and
boulders loomed closer. Faharen picked up the pace as the group
disappeared amongst the landscape. On reaching the end of the flat
land, he had walked up a thirst and after a quick swig of water,
commenced scrabbling over rock and boulder. The wild men
obviously weren’t in a state of urgency, because it didn’t take
Faharen too long before they were in earshot. It sharpened his senses
somewhat, because if he’d hurried any faster he would have
stumbled into them. He paused for a moment to listen, gentle chatter
drowning out the tired sobs of a young girl.
For a moment Faharen questioned his own judgment in following
the group. Perhaps they were just a family scratching a living
beyond the edge of civilisation for tragic reasons and he’d stolen
their food! He bit down on a clenched fist as he likened his
behaviour to the Satyrs he’d had the misfortune to meet in the Great
Forest. Guilt swirled in his belly. Then he noticed the voices
becoming more distant and continued at a steady pace.
It must have taken most of the morning to travel as far as they had
and finally the group came to a halt in a circular clearing, flanked by
tall cliffs. Faharen remained at a position above them as before,
when he recognised the setting from the last part of his vision.
“So these were whom I saw!” he blurted out to himself, finding
some purpose in following his hunch to track them. Some of the
wild men walked halfway across the clearing towards a large cave
entrance on the far side, whilst the women prayed and chanted
around the young girl. The men erected a knotted wooden post and
after the women had finished painting something on the girl, they
took her over to the men. It was then the girl began to cry louder and
offered some resistance, so the men promptly tied her to the gnarly
post. It was only at this point that Faharen became aware that

something sinister was going on, his knuckles turning white as he
gripped his rock perch in horror.
A macabre ritual now began to play out whereby the entire group
danced around their poor, unfortunate victim, with one of the men
occasionally breaking off from the main group to run over to the
cave, repeatedly calling as if to summon something. Then after some
time, a response came and it made every hair on Faharen’s body
stand on end.
The bass shriek of a Giga sounded as a child compared to the
unworldly tone of the roar that shook the landscape. Immediately the
wild men stopped dancing and recoiled behind their victim, now also
struck quiet with terror. The sound was constant now, but not vocal
so much as an unceasing scraping, rising out of the ground.
With surprising subtlety, the largest head Faharen had ever seen
gradually emerged from the cave barely able to squeeze out it was of
such a size. Its eyes alone were bigger than the Manxii lad and they
squinted with a horrific, almost omniscient knowing the likes of
which must have come before men or Manxii. All of its skin was
scaly, ending in fins under its chin.
A pregnant pause gripped all involved.
“Merewyrm!” was the only thing Faharen could speak. Even after all
of his struggles, he had never fully realised what he was up against
until now. Indeed it was the Merewyrm and as it took a snort of the
air through its giant nostrils, its lips peeled back to reveal a vast set
of pearl white, spear shaped teeth. Finally Faharen had glimpsed
what he had come all this way for and it didn’t fill him with any
reassurance.
The group of scruffy cowards now fled, filling Faharen with rage as
he watched the innocent girl futilely trying to wriggle free. But the
Merewyrm didn’t head straight for her. It weaved from side to side
as it repeatedly sniffed the air, a sinister, thin tongue occasionally
flicking out through a slit in its front teeth.
Faharen’s conscience took over from where the concern for his quest
had been and rushed down to the clearing. Suddenly the monster’s
head lurched around at his presence and Faharen’s mortality became
all too apparent to him. But a moment later, it continued sliding
around as it had been before.
“It can’t see me!” The realisation compelled Faharen on, though he
moved more cautiously. With dagger in hand ready to cut the girl’s
bonds, he approached her. As he reached her she saw him over her
shoulder and began to protest as if he were her executioner. Faharen
immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, keeping one eye on the
Merewyrm at all times. Faharen’s closer distance must have given
him away, as the huge nostrils turned in his direction and stopped.

He tried as subtly as possible to cut her bonds but the Merewyrm
had found them now and proceeded directly toward them.
All caution left Faharen as he hacked desperately at the girl’s bonds.
The gargantuan head was only a few paces away, as the rough
leather lashes fell away. Yanking at her arm, Faharen dragged her in
the opposite direction, not daring to look back, until they stumbled
and fell on something sharp and brittle. Gathering their senses, all
they could see was a pit stacked with skeletons of all kinds and the
stench of rotten flesh. Then a long shadow was cast above them and
tilting his head just enough, Faharen saw the Merewyrm’s fantastic
maw descend on him.

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After She Became A Lady by Wareeze Woodson Genre: Historical Romantic Suspense

Laurel Collingsworth, seventeen and deeply in love, expects to marry her hero and live in wedded bliss forever after. Instead, with the ink barely dry on the marriage lines, Lord Robert Laningham is called away to Spain and the war. With a heavy heart, she sends her husband off with a kiss and a prayer for his safe return. Now alone in her new role of Lady Laningham, she faces a series of terrifying events, shadowy intruders, missing jewelry, and mysterious footfalls in the night. Added to her alarms, she must fight her hostile sister-in-law for the reins of her husband’s establishment. When Lord Robert Laningham returns, can she convince him danger stalks the halls of the ancient mansion? In his wounded state, will he listen, or must she protect her child, her recovering husband, and her household by herself? Goodreads * Amazon

I write historical romance fiction novels set in the 1800s forward with a twist of suspense. All of my characters and stories that are portrayed in my books are fictitious. I am a native of Texas, but I have traveled through out America and beyond. As a dreamer, I love to visit new places where I can imagine a heroine meeting a hero in a special way. I’m an avid reader of (all sorts) and I love to write. I married my high school sweat-heart and after having raised three sons plus one daughter, our love for each other remains unshaken. Now we enjoy our eight grandchildren. We can send them home, but we’re always happy for their return. Outside of my family activities, I sing with the Silver Belles at my church and hate to miss even one practice. The local chapter of RWA is also at the top of my list of pleasures. It keeps me grounded with craft and connected with other writers. Most of all, I enjoy going fishing with my husband. Give me a pole and leave me alone to bask in the sun, listening to water gurgle along the riverbanks while allowing my mind to float away to some distance place. Ah! Perfect. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Laurel heard a scream coming from the parlor. She took to her heels and raced down the hall and halted
in the doorway. “What ever is amiss?”
“It’s Robert.”
Laurel’s heart skipped half a beat and sank to her toes. She fought to find her voice. “Robert. What
about Robert? He’s not–.” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.
Rhonda sat up. “He’s been wounded. Lieutenant Banfield is bringing him home to me.”
Laurel’s heart began to beat again, now striking hard and heavy. She entered the parlor and stammered,
“Thank God he isn’t dead!”
With tear drenched eyes, Rhonda looked up. “He’s gravely injured. Adron wrote thinking to lessen the
shock beforehand.”
Why hadn’t Lord Gladrey written to her as well? Simple courtesy demanded such a consideration.
Laurel’s trembling legs would no longer support her and she sank into a chair. Her lungs seemed to have
collapsed before she gulped in deep breaths. Shaking her head to clear the faintness, she whispered,
“He’s coming home.”
Rhonda bounded up from the sofa. “He’ll be here in a trice.”
Before her sister-in-law fled out the door, Laurel stopped her. “When is he coming?”
“In a few days. I must prepare for his arrival. The back parlor must be rendered habitable for a wounded
man.”
Laurel stood the better to face her sister-in-law. “I realize you are filled with anticipation. I am as well,
but I shall see to the arrangements necessary for my husband.”
“You want to take credit for serving him. You know nothing. You shall never take my place.”
“Calm yourself Rhonda. I have no desire to take your place. You’re his beloved sister—his twin, near and
dear to his heart. I freely accept you in that position. I am his wife—his mate, the mother of his child,
and I wish you could accept me in that place as well.”
“You are impossible.” Rhonda stormed from the room.

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Gardenia Duty by Kathleen Varn Genre: Women’s Historical Fiction

In 1957 jobs are scarce in rural Ashland, Alabama. Bobby Higgins is facing life decisions; his family’s farm struggles and threat of the draft hangs over 18-year-old males as the Cold War rumbles in the distance. Bobby heads off to boot camp, vowing to provide for his family from his pay. Between shore and sea duty, Bobby leaves broken hearts in every port. When his own heart is stolen by Rose, he’s shocked to learn that she comes with four daughters, a package deal he’s unsure he wants. But when Rose disappears, Bobby finds her and persuades her to marry him. Somehow they navigate their way through the trials of marriage and parenting as he fulfills his patriotic career and his promise to raise four willful daughters. In the spring of 2004, his daughters are brought together by grief. They forge new bonds, sharing their joys, losses, regrets, and ultimately family secrets that will seal all their fates…if they can summon the courage to report for duty. Add to Goodreads Amazon * B&N

Kat Varn’s love affair with words manifested when she turned four and taught herself to read. As she grew older, books and reading were an escape from responsibility. As the oldest daughter in a transient Navy family, words fed her imagination to embrace adventure and magical worlds. Kat was drawn to the strength of little girls in The Little Princess and The Secret Garden. Eventually, Kat dove into journaling between the pages of beautiful leather notebooks, recording her children’s infant landmarks. Journaling also helped her find solace in the grief of a toxic relationship. Throughout her journey to extract her family from oppression, she explored the idea of freedom through allegorical short stories. In the midst of angst and soul searching, she retained a sense of humor that gave her the resilience to pursue the search for her true self. Kat hopes her readers enjoy Ameera’s journey to pursue the forbidden zone of dance while becoming part of a larger experience—embraced and bonded to eight glittery belly dancers. Each of them aware they may have never met without the common denominator of a six-week belly dance class under the tutelage of their troupe director. Kat is now very happily married to her soulmate. She resides in Charleston, South Carolina, where she worked for an adoption attorney for twenty-three years. With her two children settled in adulthood, she is exploring a beautiful world, from scuba diving in Fiji or photographing from Alaska’s frozen tundra. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads

October, 1980
She stared at the venetian blinds, blurred by tears, gripping the hospital bed rails. They
should have been tears of joy. Her family should have been standing in the sparsely
furnished room. Should have, would have, could have.
Suck it up, cupcake, she thought. She knew this day would come. She had to think
about what was best for… for him. And once she had finally decided, even the
excitement of her budding career had been overshadowed. She scanned the room
through the blur, now void of the nurse
who had taken pity on her solitude. The never-ending loop of self-recrimination flooded
her brain yet again.
Funny, she thought she’d be over it by now, that somehow the loop would be flushed—
like afterbirth.
How could she have been so careless? Why hadn’t she focused on school instead of
letting herself be attracted to Larry’s blue eyes? With that twinkle and his boyish grin, he
had relentlessly worked his way into her heart on a girls’ night out. Eventually, walks on
the beach, romantic dinners and line dancing at The Lazy B. If she had known his orders
were only five months away, would she have continued the romance? She didn’t let just
anyone in. She
was the Master of Unavailable and The Life of the Party.
But Larry had pulled her off center and made her laugh. She thought he’d bore her. She
thought she’d grow tired of him. But no. Damn you, Larry. The aching memories made
this day that much more difficult.
There was a knock on the thick blonde door. “Dinner time,” the nurse said. She stared at
the tray as the nurse gently placed it on the table. She peeked under the lid and was hit
with the aroma of chicken and broccoli. Typical hospital menu; something from all the
food groups.
“Does the chef suggest a wine pairing?” she smiled weakly. Her nurse smiled back and
checked the IV bag.
There was iced tea and a little carton of milk on the fiberglass tray, the same type served
up in school when her biggest decisions were made on a playground, or when sneaking
a cigarette on the senior lawn behind the huge live oak.
“When can I shower?” she asked, poking at the mashed potatoes.
“After this bag runs out I’ll take out the IV.”
Her nurse’s deep blue scrubs were adorned by a shiny chrome stethoscope. “Can I do
anything else?” Her eyes betrayed the facade of pity for her situation. This may have
been her first rodeo, but the nurse had seen too many of her situations. “No, I’m good.
Well, not good. I mean, you’ve been wonderful,” she fumbled.
The nurse walked back to the door, patting her feet with a soft hand on the way. She felt
the tears welling again. How she needed her sisters. But, no one could know. She
needed to get back on track at work and put this behind her. How the hell do you put
something like this
behind you, she thought to herself. She suspected it would always haunt her. “Please,
God, give me the peace I need. I hope you know I’m not heartless. This is for his future.
I’m still a kid.”
There was another knock on the door. As the couple entered the room, he was carrying
a fast-food bag, Taco Bell. She carried flowers. It had to be as awkward for them as it
was for her. “You’re a lifesaver! I hope there are tacos in that bag,” she said, with as

much bravado as she could muster. But she knew there was a deeper meaning to the
first part of her comment.
“Did y’all finally decide on his name?” she asked.

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Birth of the Sand Viper: Origins of Jafar by LaSasha Flame Genre: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance

IN YOUR FAIRYTALE HE IS THE VILLAIN. BUT ONCE UPON A TIME JAFAR HAD A HEART AND HUMBLE DREAMS. UNTIL A QUEEN OF THE DARK LORD, CONVINCED THE SULTAN OF AGRABAH TO EMBRACE HIS DARKEST DESIRES. SO JAFAR BECAME SOMETHING ELSE… SOMETHING DARKER! FIND OUT HOW JAFAR BECAME THE ULTIMATE BAD BOY! AS A FAN OF THE FAIRY TALE RETELLINGS, LASASHA IS VERY EXCITED TO ANNOUNCE THIS SHORT STORY! LASASHA HAS A PARANORMAL ROMANCE THIRTEEN BOOK SERIES IN THE WORKS AND ONE OF THOSE STORIES WILL BE A RETELLING OF ALADDIN WITH A NAUGHTY TWIST. THIS SHORT STORY WILL SERVE AS A PREQUEL TO THE MAIN BOOK IN THE SERIES. ONE CLICK TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO MAKE JAFAR THE ULTIMATE BAD BOY! 14K WORD COUNT **Sign up for the author’s newsletter and get the book FREE+ enter to win a $5 Amazon GC!****Only 99 cents on Amazon!!** Goodreads * Amazon

I’m a young author from Chicago, I’m hoping to bring some new heat and sizzle to the romance genre. My favorite genres are paranormal and dark romance. I love reading a good book but I’m so busy in life that I only get to enjoy audio books. Its the only way I can get lost in a good book nowadays. And you know what? I half prefer an audio book over print any day! I have a long standing membership at Audible.com and I plan to publish audio books for busy bookworms like myself! Yay! My love of writing started when a friend of mine encouraged me to write a short story and just see what happens. Turns out I had a knack for writing because everyone loved my short stories. From then on I have worked on improving my craft. Growing from flash fictions to novellas. I am really looking forward to sharing all the twisty goodness I have planned! Thank you & Much love and Sizzle! LaSasha Flame O X O X Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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