Category: giveaway

Deer Among Wolves A World in Ruin Book 1 by Rebecca Fernfield Genre: Post-Apocalyptic Survival

An extinction-level plague was only the beginning Sixteen years have passed since an unstoppable plague ripped through the world killing billions. A few desperate, mis-matched groups of men, women, and children found their way to a small town and learned how to survive, then thrive. Now death is stalking them once more! Newly appointed First Officer, Jude Sinclair, is under pressure when death follows a group of struggling survivors into town. As the townsfolk sicken then die after a short, painful illness, Jude is desperate to learn how to stop the disease and save the town from extinction. Deacon Carlisle lost everyone he loved to the plague and then ruthless survivors, now all he wants is to protect his new family and escape the infected town, but the unthinkable happens when his son disappears. With the sickness claiming lives, and the boy missing, Jude and Deacon must rely on their own ingenuity to discover the truth, and save everyone they love. Does Jude have what it takes to protect the town from its invisible enemy? Can Deacon rise to the challenge of saving his son? What is the truth behind the deaths and the boy’s disappearance? ‘Deer Among Wolves’ is book 1 in ‘A World in Ruin’, a series of action- packed and intriguing tales of life after the apocalypse. Goodreads * Amazon

British author, Rebecca Fernfield, is a lapsed medievalist who spends her days plotting the overthrow of evil regimes and devising intricate plans to rescue their victims. She’s also given to flights of fancy about the end of the world and what she’d do if supermarkets suddenly ran out of chocolate, wine and other essentials. She lives among the flatlands of the Humber estuary where Vikings and Saxons once fought and where, sometimes, on foggy mornings, you can still hear the echoes of clashing swords. Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Ember Hawk The Katrosi Revolution Book 1 by Jamie Foley Genre: YA Fantasy

The elementals have decided they’re gods, and humans are nothing but fuel for their fire. A starving trapper. Merciless drought withers Kira’s ranch, leaving her family hungry—and desperate enough to cross the border into the forbidden forest to trap wild game. But the forest is infested with tree-scorpions and giant cats that wield elemental invisibility, and they’re hungry, too. When Kira mistakes one elemental creature for another, she ends up with the last thing she wants in her trap: an enemy soldier. An invisible spy. Ryon can’t afford to be a prisoner of war. If the Malaano Empire extracts his secrets, the rumors of war will be confirmed—and the tribes stand little chance against the Empire unless they can put aside generations of bad blood for the sake of a Tribal Alliance. When Ryon’s escape leaves Kira injured and her livelihood in flames, Ryon must choose between aiding her… or returning to his chieftess with vital information. But can he survive the trek when an elemental pursues him for his rejected heritage? A sacrificial princess. Imperial Princess Vylia is given a powerful ancient stone as her wavesinger trials approach. But is the stone’s whispering voice from the water goddess, or a masquerading elemental the creator god imprisoned millennia ago? When Vylia’s diplomatic mission to the tribal lands erupts in fiery revenge, she, Kira, and Ryon must work together to survive—or become pawns in the battle of the gods. Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Website

Jamie Foley loves strategy games, home-grown berries, and Texas winters. She kills vipers with her great-grandfather’s rifle but she’s terrified of red wasps. As a graphic design ninja and marketing guru, Jamie loves helping other authors when she’s not writing. She’s the typesetter for Enclave Publishing and the creator of Fayette Press. Her books have been featured in Amazon Prime Reading, finaled for reader’s choice awards, and selected as #1 New Releases on Amazon.com. Her husband is her cowboy astronaut muse. They live between Austin and the cattle ranch, where their hyperactive spawnling and wolfpack roam. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Kiralau
Kira ran until her heart threatened to burst. She didn’t dare look back.
She wouldn’t be able to see the trace cat anyway—it bent reality around
itself in streaks of bleeding light. The beast’s footfalls thumped through the
dying forest with a lion’s gait; it was probably an
adult male.
And she was probably dead.
Kira plowed through a joyberry bush and ignored the stinging scratches
across her shins. She cried a prayer that the noose of her big game trap still
laid in the same spot. And that it would actually work this time. The bait had
never been so good.
She ducked under a gnarled oak branch and broke into the clearing,
where the merciless sun beat down on starving grasses and decaying
stumps. Energy surged through her, flinging her toward the young tree
pulled taut with her trap’s noose. As she leapt over it, she realized the
sapling wouldn’t be strong enough to hold a trace cat of this size.
Water goddess, creator, elementals—whoever’s listening, help me! Kira
grabbed for a throwing knife as she flew over the noose. But her leather
sheath wasn’t in its place on her thigh.
Wood cracked and rope groaned. A high-pitched snarl pierced the quiet
forest, and Kira ran a stone’s throw before daring to turn on her heel. The
cat that writhed in mid-air was as large as her father’s prize bull.
It shimmered in and out of existence like a firefly at dusk, with streaks
radiating across its pale fur like a tiger that had lost its stripes. Fieryorange eyes
fixated on Kira with wild hunger.
Terror chilled her blood despite the midday heat. It was an adult male, all
right, and her trap wouldn’t hold the awkward grip on its shoulder any more
than her mother’s nagging could keep her from Granny’s joyberry pie.
She turned and ran straight into umber skin and white cloth. Her brother
pulled a lasso from his belt and glared at the trace cat with ice blue eyes.
“Lee!” Kira stumbled back and nearly fell. “What are—”
“Back up!” Lee swung his rope and Kira ducked, barely affording him
enough room in the clearing to toss the rope. It circled around the trace
cat’s neck and cinched tight. The beast floundered against it with a guttural
growl.
Lee tossed his lasso’s slack over a tall branch. “Help me!”
Kira grabbed the rope and pulled just as her trap’s young tree snapped
and splintered. The fibers burned against her palms as she yanked down
and heard a strangled pop.
The forest quieted to nothing except her panting and the hesitant song
of a distant bird.
She looked back at the beast. Its body lay still, pulled between her noose
around its shoulder and Lee’s lasso around its neck. Light glistened along

the length of its fur, which faded to a dull beige.
Lee dashed to the beast, drew his knife, and turned his back to Kira
as he finished the job.
Kira’s fingers trembled but refused to let go of the rope. Whichever
deity had heard her prayer clearly wanted her alive.
“Bleeding stars.” Lee wiped his blade on a rag as he straightened. “You
ever seen one this big?”
“No.” Kira’s voice shriveled in her throat. “You might have
saved my life.”
“Yeah, like that’s never happened before.” Lee winked over his shoulder,
his bright eyes glinting in contrast with a dark smirk. “What the tails are you
doin’ playin’ cat-and-mouse with a trace cat?”
Kira looked down at the empty spot on her thigh where her fanned sheath of throwing
knives should have been. I’m never going anywhere without a weapon again. “It wasn’t
on my agenda for the day.” Her bones creaked with resistance as she released the
lasso, allowing the cat’s body to lay flat across crackling leaves. “How’d you know I
was in trouble?”
Lee sheathed his knife and tossed the bloodied rag to the ground.
“Your screechin’ was a little higher pitched than usual.”
Kira huffed and wished she was close enough to smack him, then
reminded herself that he’d saved her life. And she had no desire to move
any closer to the beast that had nearly made her its brunch. “You were at the
edge of the forest already?”
“Yeah, I came to give you somethin’ to sell in town.” Lee wiped sweat
from his brow and stomped closer to enter the spotted shade. “Though
this cat’s pelt will make us ten times as much.”
Kira’s frantic mind calmed enough to wonder exactly how late she was for
this week’s trade run to Navarro, and how Lee could possibly tan such a
large hide without their mother or grandmother noticing. She clenched and
unclenched her fists to stave off the trembling in her limbs, unable to tear
her gaze from the body. “Since when have they come so close to the
border?”
“Maybe since the drought got so bad.” Lee made a show of looking
her up and down. “Must be pretty desperate to hunt a gangly thing like you,
Frizz.”
This time he was close enough for her to hit him. “Don’t call me that!
Just because you’re taller than me now doesn’t mean you’re older.”
“No, but I’m better-lookin’.” Lee dodged her strike with that devilish
grin. “You get anything for dinner?”
“That cat stole everything my traps caught,” Kira grumbled. “Too bad we
can’t eat carnivores.” Or maybe they could try. Desperate times called for
desperate experiments in the smokehouse.
“So they’ve found a source of free food. Great.” Lee strode past her,
sending a shower of dry pine needles to the earth as he pushed a branch
aside. “You’ll have to stop trapping.”
“What? We just killed it!”
“Trace cats of this size tend to travel in pairs,” Lee said. “There’s
probably a female nearby.”
Kira charged after him. “So I’ll trap her too. What would we eat without
the rabbits and branch runners? We can’t slaughter another calf.” “We will if
we have to.” Sunlight brightened Lee’s short curly hair as he stepped from
the forest and into amber plains. “It’d be better than teachin’ trace cats

there’s free food at the edge of our property. Next thing you know, they’d be
leavin’ the forest to eat our livestock. Or us.” He gave
her a meaningful look.
Kira scanned the rolling hills for any soul who might witness them
crossing the border. She couldn’t just stop trapping. The mechanics, the
thrill of the catch, the reward… they made life on a withering border ranch
bearable. The more efficient her contraptions became—from the irrigation
system in Granny’s garden to the pulley system in the barn—the easier life
was for her family. Even if Mom would never admit it.
“I’ll just set up my traps deeper in the forest, then,” Kira said, ignoring
the way her gut churned as the words left her mouth. She wiped clammy
palms on her tunic and frowned at a new tear in the fabric.
Lee snorted as he approached his mangy saddled buffalo, which
nuzzled the dusty earth for anything to munch. “Yeah, ’cause Dad’s not
gonna whip our rear ends bad enough already.”
Kira narrowed her eyes. “If you’ve told anyone I’ve been crossing
the border—”
“’Course not.” Lee flipped a pouch on his buffalo’s saddlebag open and
withdrew a stack of branch runner hides. “Think you can sell these
discreetly enough in town?”
Kira’s spirit leaped as she snatched the skins. The brown and beige
furs were flawless—his skill as a tanner was improving. “It should be
enough,” she murmured. “Finally.”
“Tell her you got the medicine from the town doctor,” Lee whispered, as if their mother
could hear him from the ranch house on a distant hill.
“She won’t take anything from a tribal herbalist.”
“I’ll slip it in her tea.” Kira grabbed her brother and held him tight.
“Thank you.”
He hugged back, then pulled away with a raised eyebrow. “No more
wrestling matches with predators five times your weight, okay?”
Kira’s face flushed with heat. “You’d better not brag to your latest fling
about this.”
Lee’s mischievous grin made him look eight rather than sixteen. “No
promises.”
Kira rolled her eyes and took off toward the house, whose roof gleamed
like the surface of their dying pond. If Lee got married before she did, she’d
never hear the end of it. But while he wasn’t picky about the selection of
beautiful girls in Navarro, Kira refused to marry a guy who was dumber than
a sack of rocks. Of which there were plenty. And the more her mother and
grandmother pressured her, the more she despised every starry-eyed suitor.

She held the skins behind her back as she passed through the white-
blossomed cherry orchard, scanning the trellises for her mother’s hunched

back or her grandmother’s frazzled hair. Neither were in sight. Had they
gone inside to escape the midday heat already?
Kira cursed and hurried her pace until she spotted their cart brimming
with crates and barrels. The ranch hands had roped the covered wagon
to a pair of buffalo near the beehives—thankfully far enough from the
kitchen windows. Kira ducked away from the foggy glass and slipped the
hides between crates of cherry jam and smoked jerky.
She released a breath of relief and straightened, picking a bundle of pine
needles from the bandana across her forehead that held her curls at bay.
The overripe cherries for the vintner were already loaded, as were the
small ones for the candy maker and the shriveled pits for the inkmaster. All

she needed was the shopping list, her wide-brimmed hat, and Granny’s fan,
and her escape to Navarro would be flawless.
The back door betrayed her with a loud creak. The kitchen still
smelled of eggs, cheese, and cactus syrup from breakfast, but the wooden
counter and skillet over the fire pit were scrubbed clean. Kira ducked under
bundles of drying herbs and a garlic braid, then nearly swallowed her
tongue when her mother stepped out from the dining room.
“Kiralau, where have you been?” Inowae’s steel blue eyes blinked from
dark, sunken sockets and flicked to Kira’s hands. “No luck this morning?”
“Sorry. A raccoon raided my traps in the orchard.” Kira slipped past her,
snatching the list of charcoal-scribbled parchment from a nail on the
wall as she went.
“So it was a raccoon that took another hen from the coop last night?” Kira
halted mid-stride. “What?”
Her mother sighed. “I’m going to send a ranch hand to Navarro so you
can figure out why your traps don’t work.”
Kira’s jaw fell open. “They do work. I just…” She bit the inside of her
cheek before she could spill what she’d just trapped on the wrong side of

the border. Inowae wouldn’t understand that the traps in their drought-
starved plains hadn’t caught anything in months, so she had no choice but

to lay snares in the forest.
Kira pursed her lips. “Whatever it is, it’s just too smart.”
Inowae’s expression was as flat as her humor. “Then you won’t mind
watchin’ the coop ‘til it shows up again.”
Kira reeled in her frustration before it spilled out in a jumbled mess.
“Whatever’s eating the chickens only hunts at dusk. I have a full load to sell
in town, and we need the ranch hands here. Lee thinks that heifer’s about to
give birth, and he might need help pulling the calf—”
“I don’t want you going into town by yourself anymore.”
Kira felt like her frail mother had punched her in the gut. “Why?” “You
know tensions with the tribes are worse than ever.” Inowae
pulled a mortar and pestle from a shelf below the counter. “It’s not safe
for a young girl.”
“Mom, I’m eighteen, and I’ve been making the weekly trip since I was
twelve. I’m the one who knows all the vendors, and I speak Phoeran better
than anyone.”
Her mother pulled a bundle of dried rosemary from the overhead rack.
“Well, we’re not going to trade with tribesmen anymore, regardless.”
Kira balked. “Mother! How can you—”
“Did you forget about the girl who disappeared last week?” Inowae ran
bony fingers down the rosemary stem, letting the thin leaves fall into the
green-stained mortar. “They say it was a Katrosi man.”
“Is there any proof of that?”
Inowae gave Kira that sidelong glance she knew all too well. “Kiralau,

take your father’s bow, get on the barn roof, and sit there until that chicken-
killer shows up.”

“Mom, seriously, I think your illness is—”
“Do I need to remind you of what will happen if we lose any more
livestock?”
“Do I need to remind you we wouldn’t have food on the table without
tribal irrigation designs for our garden and orchard?”
Her mother paused halfway down another stem. “Have you been

readin’ their scrolls again?”
Kira paused long enough to forcefully calm her voice. “The tribes lived in
a desert before their ancestors sailed here. They know how to survive in this
drought, and they even have schematics for cooling air—”
“Kiralau.” Inowae pointed to the door, looking like a ghost of herself.
Exhaustion hung from her every movement, as if breaking down dried herbs
would crush her instead.
Pushing her any further would only send her to Grandpa’s
graveyard faster.
Kira brought her hat, Granny’s fan, and Father’s bow to the barn roof. She
watched her cart leave without her, then Lee deliver a fluffy white calf by
himself, then the workers retreat to the house for lunch. After midday nap,
her grandmother appeared to tend the garden, and her mother the orchard.
The heat finally began to abate when everyone retreated again for dinner.
Kira bit off a mouthful of jerky and washed it down with stale water from
her water skin. Maybe marrying some idiot from Navarro would be best, or
one of those rich guys from the island with their lighter skin and fancy
accent. Maybe then her mom wouldn’t treat her like a kid. Maybe she
wouldn’t have to work so much. Or maybe she’d be forced to have children
and her work would double.
Maybe war with the tribes would break out and she’d never feel the
embrace of a loving husband regardless.
Kira squinted at the chicken coop and pen, where heat from the earth
waved upward like steam from an overcooked roast. If her mother knew
she’d cried out to any god other than the water goddess that morning, she’d
be locked in the root cellar for a week.
She glanced at the shrine to the seven-tailed fox on a nearby hill. Was it
the goddess who saved me or the creator? She flapped Granny’s fan harder,
but it only served to push more hot air into her face. Everyone knew the
creator was dead—the elementals had killed him thousands of years ago.
Or was it just random chance that Lee heard me scream?
Something flickered beside the coop, warping light in a familiar
distortion.
Kira gasped and set the fan down in favor of her father’s bow. An arrow’s
feather tickled her cheek as she pulled it back, shaking with strain as she
squinted for the perfect shot.
There. The figure was big enough to be a trace cat, all right—surely the
missing female.
She opened both eyes and released the arrow. It arced over the distance
and disappeared as if she’d fired into a void. Then a figure shimmered into
existence.
A human.
Kira’s pulse stalled. She stared as a young man cried out and stumbled
toward the forest. He wore dark leather with a green sash—the regalia of
a soldier of the Tribal Alliance.

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Glimmer by Ashley Munoz Genre: Contemporary MC Romance

I’d heard about Jimmy the Fist. I’d heard he was a single dad, a bar owner, and that he was tied to a dangerous motorcycle gang. He’s someone I’d stay away from in another life. In this life, I was desperate for a job—preferably as a tax accountant—but scraping the bottom of my savings had stripped my preferences bare. I was desperate for something, anything that would help my mom. Turns out he was desperate for something too—freedom—and when our worlds collide I realize too late that his demons didn’t care how or with whom they collected their debt. **This is a standalone romance/ suspense novel.** Goodreads * Amazon

Ashley lives in Oregon with her four children and Mr. Fix-It husband. If she’s not helping her husband with DIY projects around the house, she’s writing or sneaking off to a corner to read. She loves hearing from her fans. You can find her in her reader group or on Instagram, where she practically lives. Website * Facebook * Readers Group * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

“So, Ramsey, did you decide about us going to dinner?”
I sat forward enough so that I could see Jimmy. I glanced at
him briefly while I worked through my hesitation. “Um, well.
Jackson, I don’t really know you, I’m not sure…”

I kept my eyes on Jimmy, so that I would be able to tell if
he wanted me to say no, but as it was, he wasn’t doing anything
but looking at Jasmine.
“Just ask Jimmy, I’m a good guy, right?” he said, turning
towards Jimmy.
Jimmy gave a little half-smile and then turned half his body
towards us and agreed. “You should go, Ramsey. He’s a good
guy.”
Okay then.
If I thought that Jimmy had any romantic notions whatsoever
about me, he just more than proved that he didn’t. He just
suggested I go out with his best friend.
My heart physically
hurt, which was so irritating because I still barely knew Jimmy,
and yet that damn body part of mine felt like it had claimed
him. Stupid heart.

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Big Cranky: Fall Into Darkness by James Pyne Genre: Dark Mythological Fantasy, Action

Forget everything you think you know about myths and legends, James Pyne’s Big Cranky connects them all in an epic web of deceitful betrayal, love, and loyalty. A capricious tale of gods, showing human quirks are not only wasted on the mortals. A tale of many deities treading lightly around a superior as the world begins. Goodreads * Amazon

James Pyne hails from Nova Scotia, Canada, and has been a scribe for the Universe much of his life. He’s a firm believer in being able to write in every genre, to make his world building and characters hopefuly come out genuine. No matter what he writes it will have some form of darkness, nothing is pure light in any worlds James creates and rumor has it, his surviving characters are plotting his demise. When it comes to his past time, much of it is spent learning the craft, but he does enjoy gardening and playfully tormenting those he loves. When he’s not writing, or working his day job, he’s traveling. The Andalusia region of Spain the last place that tolerated him. Favorite authors: John Gardner (Grendel, Sunlight Dialogues). Fyodor Dostoevsky (The Brothers Karamazov). Clive Barker (Imajica, Weaveworld, Books of Blood). Terry Pratchett (Good Omens, Bad Omens). J.R.R. Tolkien (Lord of the Rings). And all the scribes who carried on the tradition of myths throughout the ages. Facebook * Amazon * Goodreads

Lucifer and Lilith sat against a tree; its huge gnarled roots stretched into the Lake of Souls. The
souls didn’t make noises, silently moving among each other, sometimes in the shape of their
previous incarnations, swirling around the trees growing out of the water and along the bank.
Sometimes they would pass through them, sending chills through Lucifer, humbling him into
deeper thought about his immortality.
Questions like if an angel died, would they end up here? The belief was once an immortal was
dead, it was a done deal, no coming back. Adding to the doom and gloom was the fact his father
wouldn’t give a straight answer. He didn’t smile when asked if angels were recycled after death,
instead, a sullen look clouded his face, like he was remembering something devastating from his
past, something he wanted buried forever there. It was the same look his father gave him hours
ago.
“We call them mortals,” Lucifer said of the spirits swirling around each other in playful
abandonment. “Yet if we’re slain, apparently we don’t come back while they’re recycled into
another lifeform somewhere in the universe. I don’t feel very immortal knowing that.”
“No angel has killed another angel in our time,” Lilith said. “It will never happen. The
consequences are too risky, you know this. One kills, then the killer will be killed for breaking
the commandment, two in a snap of finger gone from existence. The death seed then planted,
sprouts two more leaves, their names Hate and Revenge. More angels are killed. Revenge and
Hate multiply in a tangled mess of vines choking off each other into extinction. No one will risk
that chain of events. There’d be no coming back from it. Besides, you have nothing to worry
about. You’re of his blood and can’t be killed unless by him.”

“But you can be.”
“Stating the obvious.”
“Which means a part of me can be killed, too.”
Her eyes watered to that; her head rested on his shoulder now. She was the one for him, he
always knew, for she took no guff from anyone, especially the male kind, always making it clear
she was equal or better and would prove it through sharp words or in combat. And if anybody
crossed him behind his back, she made quick work of them for all to see. Never letting him get
lazy in the mind. Always at his side and always wanting good for the Order, like a true Queen.
“I sense the day is coming soon when one of our kind is slain. It feels like it will be somebody
close. It feels like I’m screaming from the future to me now over something so unspeakable.”
“What has brought this mood, Lucifer? The planet’s suddenly devoid of life? Come now, your
father did it. You know this in your heart. No one else could.”
“If you’re right, then that is cause for concern.”
“They’re just mortals. They go back here. Then back out there somewhere. Many times, you
have been sent out to wipe out armies all over the universe. Now suddenly you care about them?
What’s of more concern is our missing brethren.”
“Yes, they come here to be recycled, but first they all experience Purification,” something
Lucifer never shared with anyone, a sight he was shown when still a youngling. He was never
sure if it was just an invented vison by his father, but it looked and felt real. “Their flesh and
bone burned from them . . . I have been there, a nightmarish place. It is between this reality and
another, a portal opened by my father is the only way there. The virtuous get a quick exit to the
Lake, with their flesh burned away by intense fire, painful, but mercifully quicker compared to
the others. Some fuel a hellish train like coal, a skull face as its locomotive, flames exhale its
nostrils with every soul forced into it, over and over, until their sins burned away.
The most wretched are chained to walls, slowly dismembered, aware to the very end, their head
always last to be thrown into the furnace. It’s not something anyone would be in hurry to
experience . . . and so many just have.”
“Something I didn’t know.”
“It makes you pause with deep thought, yes?”
She stared at the souls, one passed through her. The expression on her face, like she just
experienced mortality for the first time.
“It makes me think how sick your father can be.”
“He says it’s for their own good, allowing them a clean slate.”
“What point is there in burning their past lives away, how will they
evolve, learn from past mistakes? Why not just make them immortal like us?”
“Maybe they were us . . . or we were them at some point.”

“Quite the statement.”
“There are many things I’ve not shared with anyone, but that stops tonight. No more secrets
between us. We’ll need to be our strongest and most connected for what I sense is coming. If my
father has truly gone mad, then what stops him from killing angels next?”
“I feel he has already started.”
She cuddled into him as the morning star rose over the Rainbow Ridge, brightening the colorful
glow of the blinking mountains, a signal of the illumination that was coming. She held him tight,
the morning star grew its brightest, next to come were the two rising suns, the whole effect
created by his mother to mark Lucifer and Calliope’s births. One of the few things he knew of
her.

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Wobbly Willie Bakes a Cake by Richard Quisenberry Genre: Children’s Book

Wobbly Willie’s Little Reminder: What makes me special, you may not see: my brain; my heart; the good in me. All covered by a layer of skin, embracing diversity is where change begins. Join Wobbly as he embarks on a journey that not only teaches us how to embrace our uniqueness but he reminds us of how to be kind to ourselves. When we address these reminders head-on, the power of a being kind brings us together. Wobbly Willie’s differences help identify and bring awareness to what it truly means to be kind to one another. This book will help redirect the behavior and mindset of children who are having difficulty understanding the value of Kindness, which results in a community that now is aware of the valuable life skills necessary in order to make a positive impact for generations to come. Add to Goodreads Buy Now

Richard Quisenberry’s legacy is to make communities stronger. To do that, he informs them, equips them, and empowers them — in part as a transformation life coach, serial- entrepreneur, author, father, husband, best friend, child of God, lifetime learner but also as a modern brand acting as a force for the greater good. And in doing so, he is fostering deep and vital connections between the members of our communities and the world around them. Focus and design your visions, dreams, and legacy to outlive you. Richard Quisenbury (Coach Quis) has achieved and is still in pursuit of every dream he has set his mind to, including graduating from college, becoming a principal, driving across the country, learning many hobbies, traveling out of the country, falling deeply in love, creating a beautiful family, and identifying his life purpose, to name but a few. With over 40 years of experience in the educational industry, Coach Quis is just as passionate today, as he was on his first day, about developing tomorrow’s personal and professional leaders. As said by Coach Quis, “If you want a different result, you must be willing to first take a different action. With the near epidemic proportions of unhappy employees, the need for personal and professional integration has never been more imminent.” Note that he didn’t say work/life balance; he believes such a thing is both impossible and undesirable for we spend a disproportionate amount of our time working. Instead, the goal is to integrate all aspects of life so we thrive at our careers & our personal lives equally as well, where we aren’t leaving a part of us behind as we spend our days at work wishing we were somewhere else… anywhere else; or trying to be home with our children while distracted by the things not getting done at work. Instead of balance, it’s the power of presence we seek. Website * Facebook * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * LinkedIn * YouTube

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