Book Review: The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

A novel of suspense that explores the complexities of marriage and the dangerous truths we ignore in the name of love.

When you read this book, you will make many assumptions.

You will assume you are reading about a jealous wife and her obsession with her replacement.

You will assume you are reading about a woman about to enter a new marriage with the man she loves.

You will assume the first wife was a disaster and that the husband was well rid of her.

You will assume you know the motives, the history, the anatomy of the relationships.

Assume nothing.

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Review:

I must admit that I was skeptical about The Wife Between Us after 50 pages in. It was really slow paced at first. I wondered if I had made a mistake by reading it. I decided to read more of the book just in case it got better, and I am glad I did. By part two of the book (about a third of the way in), the pacing quickened, and I found myself immersed in the world of The Wife Between Us.

The whole setup of the plot was done very well. At times, it seemed a little extreme and intense, but it was believable. There are a few plot twists, more than I've ever read in a book. I did predict one early on, but the others, I never saw coming. The plot twists will definitely surprise you. I'd go into more detail, but I really don't want to give anything away. This is one book where you'll just have to read it to learn everything. This book does give you plenty of closure. No stone is left unturned. I'm happy there wasn't any cliff hangars or any unanswered questions.

I enjoyed the characters in The Wife Between Us. Each one was believable, and each one definitely brought a story of their own to the book. I loved the character of Vanessa the most. She seemed really caring. I don't want to say any more about why I liked her because I'm afraid that would give away spoilers.

There is some swearing in the book although I didn't feel like it was a lot. There are sexual references, mental health references, alcohol/alcoholism references, a few drug (marijuana) references as well as violence although nothing too graphic. All of this was written tastefully. Nothing was over the top or seemed to be written in just for the sake of mentioning it.

I would recommend The Wife Between Us to those 18+ especially those who love a good thriller with a lot of plot twists. Although this book does start out really slow, it soon picks up. The writing is excellent, the story line is great, and the characters are amazing! Definitely read this book if you get a chance!

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Book Blitz, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Spotted Her First by Emma Dean

Spotted Her First
by Emma Dean
Publication date: June 26th 2018
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

~~~

Three hot leopard shifters? Yes please.

Piper is a librarian at Sacramento State working on her graduate thesis, but her quiet life turns upside down when three hot guys literally crash into her world. They move into her house and her life, telling her she’s wanted by a demon and a witch for her pharaoh’s blood. She just didn’t realize how much they would take over her life in the name of protecting her. 

Piper is overwhelmed by the paranormal world and everything in it, including the fact that somehow all three of these guys are her mates. She has two weeks to find a way out of a demon contract and figure out how she’s going to deal with all three of these domineering shifters in her life and in her apartment. Will Piper be able to save herself and the pride she’s grown attached to before it’s too late?

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Excerpt:

The doors to the library swung wide open and Piper jumped at the sudden sound. She checked her watch with a frown. No one came in this late to the library on a Friday night.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” someone asked. He sounded…like velvet and brandy.

It was the stupidest thought Piper had ever had in her life and she’d certainly had some doozies. But there was no better way to describe the soft male voice that seemed to drift through her library like smoke.

“The witch said it was,” another man said. These voices were definitely not the boys she was used to. They were deep, gruff, and somehow sensual.

Piper frowned at the word ‘witch.’ Moving silently through the stacks Piper positioned herself so she could see who was in her library so late at night.

“I’m going to find her first,” one taunted.

“Oh no you aren’t, I am.”

“You’re mistaken if you think either of you are faster than me.”

What the heck were they talking about? Whatever it was she didn’t like the sound of it. Either they were searching for one of the students…or her. Neither sounded very safe. Piper cursed herself for being so far from her desk and the taser she kept in her purse.

Slowly she moved deeper into the shadowy stacks, keeping to the back. She just wanted to get out of the library without any confrontation. She didn’t know what these guys had planned, but she wasn’t stupid enough to wait and find out.

At least there were multiple exits. Piper pulled her phone out of her pocket and made sure it was on silent. She could text security but her dad would be there faster. She sent off a quick text and asked him to come to the library. It was difficult to ask him to come pick her up early without setting off his panic. But his patrol was in her area. It was the safest way.

Piper may not have anything on her person to defend herself with, but her dad had always said anything could be a weapon. She grabbed the heaviest book she could find in hardback. It wouldn’t do much but it would disorient an attacker.

So many years of self-defense classes and days at the gun range that she’d absolutely hated. Her father had insisted. Piper had never been so grateful for Dad’s bullheaded insistence in her life.

The voices stopped suddenly and Piper went still, cocking her head to try and figure out where the men had gone off to. The library was massive. They could be anywhere.

“Spotted her first, boys. I win,” a deep, rolling voice said from directly behind her.

Piper gasped and whirled around. The man before her was definitely like no one she’d ever seen before. Well, not in real life. He looked like he should be a model with his jade-green eyes and tanned skin. His blond-brown hair was thick and gorgeous, but it was his presence that had her captivated.

Then her senses came back to her. Piper hurled the book at his face as hard as she could and let out a little screech.

Author Bio:
Emma Dean lives and works in California with her husband and son. She loves romance but needed something different so Draga Court was born. With too many stories to write the schedule has been filled through 2018. 

When she’s not writing she’s reading, or spending time with her family.

With publishing now at least she has an excuse for not folding the laundry ;)

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Book Tour, Excerpt and Giveaway: Within the Walls by Dre Keeton

Within the Walls

by
Dre Keeton

Genre:
Paranormal Romance, Dystopian

Perfect opposites in a far from perfect world.

Jackson and Lenah are from two different worlds. Lenah is among the elite in Sundale City. Jackson, on the other hand, is broke, Psycho Infected and has a criminal record growing by the minute. It’s safe to say, in another life, the two would never have crossed paths.

But when Jackson is assigned to work for Lenah in an effort to use his PI abilities for something productive, things get complicated.

As their worlds collide, they realize how much they’ve both suffered and struggled with the darkness the infection brought the world.

But the closer they become, the more dangerous things get. It isn’t just that PI and human relationships are forbidden, but Lenah's powerful fiancé has no intention of letting her go. And as people in the American Walled Cities start disappearing, Jackson and Lenah discover there's something even more sinister at play than her pending nuptials.

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Lenah Noseki strolled from the parking lot, bravely moving toward the cluster of protesters outside. They were a not-so-quiet ambush waiting for her as she made her way toward the hospital.

“Back off!” she yelled at a horde of men and women who pushed into her, trying to block her way to the front doors of the building.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to be there. It wasn’t like she was thrilled to be signing away her brother’s life. Just like them, she longed for the days before the infection. But this was life now.

“I said, ‘Back off!’” Lenah shouted again as a group of women linked arms in front of her.

It had only taken her seven years to get the hang of it, but she’d finally grown accustomed to the pushy nature of self-righteous protesters. She’d learned the hard way that niceties like “excuse me” didn’t work for these people. They were too blinded by their cause to extend common courtesy.

No, Lenah knew she had to wear her game face with this crowd. The irony was that she agreed with them, for the most part. She wasn’t a fanatic, but the infection sucked. Particularly on a day like today. But that didn’t mean she was going to stand in the street holding up traffic like a raving lunatic. Honestly, who had the time?

Lenah wiped her hands down the sides of her pants, her palms sweating with anticipation as she moved further into the crowd, bursting through human fences and stepping over sitting protesters.

The chaos was starting to get to her. She’d been a seesaw all morning—up and down on how confident she was with her choice.

“Do you not believe in the sanctity of life, young lady?” A graying old man stepped into Lenah’s path. “Every life has the potential to bloom. Don’t give in to the will of the abominations. Protect your loved ones, and don’t offer them up on a silver platter!” he yelled at her as she tried to push past him. His wrinkled hands held on firmly to a sign that read “Don’t let our lives go over Psycho!”

Lenah rolled her eyes and made an attempt to go around him, but he shifted, determined to complicate her morning. “Move it, old man, or the bloom of your life will end right here and now. No Psycho necessary.” Planting her feet, she narrowed her eyes at him, watching as surprise flickered across his features. He obviously hadn’t been expecting resistance.

He stepped away, drifting back into the crowd, and she smiled after him, feeling like an accomplished badass. They didn’t usually run scared. Things typically turned into a screaming match, but she must have looked extra fierce that morning. Her high-puff ponytail and fitted overalls must have given all of the “don’t fuck with me” vibes she needed.

She wiped at beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and the corners of her smile inched downward. There was a reason she was extra fierce today. She had to be.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she approached the skyscraping hospital. It was the only one in Sundale, big enough to take up a city block, and it triple-functioned as hospital, feeding center, and mental institution.

She was already exhausted, and the hardest part of her visit hadn’t even started. She stopped in front of the large, PI-proof double doors and sucked in a deep breath. She shivered as she pulled them open and stepped inside.

Dre Keeton is the oldest of three children, a tequila enthusiast, and
fueled by plants. One of her favorite things, aside from chatting
with her dog, is creating fictional worlds that seem likely. Dre is
an avid promoter of diversity in literature and seeks to mirror that
in her own work.

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Book Tour, Excerpt, and Giveaway: The Kate Roark Magic Series by Laura Rich

The Binding Witch and the Bounty Hunter

The Kate Roark Magic Series Book 2

by
Laura Rich

Genre:
YA Fantasy

Kate thought she’d never unlock her powers—let alone trigger them by creating a familiar out of a cross-eyed pigeon.

Before she can celebrate the good news, a terrifying bounty hunter kidnaps her mother. In a race against time to save her mother,
Kate runs afoul of a dragon, and even worse, the most feared
creatures in existence—the dreaded forest gnomes. To top it all
off, she discovers long-lost magical family members who maybe should have stayed lost. Kate is finally a witch—but it just might kill
her.

If you like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Veronica Mars, and iZombie, you’ll be rooting for this strong, snarky teen girl on every page.

Book Two of the Kate Roark Magic Series – discover this fast-paced, fun-filled magical read today!

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Alick gestured between us. “What I really need is help wi' a dragon.”

“Come again?” I stared at the little man. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say ‘a dragon.’”

“Aye, just a wee one though,” Alick said, holding his hands about two feet apart. “She bolted for Elsereach five days ago w’ a precious treasure that belongs to the forest gnomes. We want it back.”

I snorted. “You think I can get it for you?”

“I think ye'r a witch, that's what.” He shrugged. “Ye have magic. Dragons have magic. It’ll be easy for the likes o' ye, where it's not easy fur th' likes o' us.”

“Interesting." It was starting to look more and more as if our meeting with the coyotes was planned. Also, if you counted Leo, this was my second request for aid from a paranormal being. Was this what I had to look forward to from now on as a witch? “What did she take?"

“A treasure chest, about yea big,” Alick said, again holding his hands about two feet apart.

Either Alick thought everything was about two feet wide, or he was prone to underestimating.

~~~

The Binding Witch and the Fortune Taker

The Kate Roark Magic Series Book 1

The Binding Witch and the Fortune Taker is the first in a series and a 17,500 word novelette.

Growing up homeschooled on the Renaissance Festival circuit is weird enough, but when you're the daughter of a powerful binding witch who makes a living as a fortune teller, and your best friend is a middle-aged sari vendor, weird is relative.

Fifteen-year-old Kate Roark desperately wants to be a witch but isn't - yet. It's not likely at her age until she meets the Fortune Taker and gets a taste of unimaginable power - but at what cost?

Forced to choose between keeping stolen power or making her magic dreams come true, her ultimate decision throws her entire world into question.

Described as "book candy", and "compulsively readable," The
Binding Witch and the Fortune Taker is the first in the Kate Roark
Magic Series from emerging YA fantasy writer, Laura Rich.

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Laura Rich is an emerging author of young adult fantasy fiction about witches. She loves to read in a hammock with a glass of iced tea, bake cookies, garden and dress up for Halloween as (you guessed it) a witch. She lives in Texas with her family and works as full-time project manager. Magic may be involved in pulling all this off.

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Book Blitz, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Cardboard Castles by K.L. Young

Cardboard Castles
by K.L. Young
Genre: YA Fantasy
Release date: May 17th 2018
Graye Castle Press

~~

When seventeen-year-old Josilyn begins to see the fantastical world of her father's imagination, she can't help but wonder if he isn't insane at after all, or that she might be.

Living in a crumbling cardboard castle under the park bridge and struggling to care for her mentally ill father, Josilyn's life has been anything but regal since her mother's death. But when a former friend discovers Josilyn's secret and leads Child Protective Services directly to her, her father's visions of grand feathered dragons and treacherous dark knights become the least of Josilyn's problems.

Now separated from her father and terrified for his safety, Josilyn sees his imaginary world, forcing her to consider the possibility that someone may be desperate to see her father dead--and her in chains.

In a stunning twist of reality, survival may not be a matter of sanity, but who to trust, and who to kill.

ON SALE for only $2.99 (FREE on Kindle Unlimited) through July!

Buy links:

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**A portion of all sales from the book are being donated to Chattanooga's Community Kitchen, which serves the author’s city homeless population.** 

Download the first five chapters of Cardboard Castles for free here! 

~~~

Advance Praise:

 “CARDBOARD CASTLES is by turns introspective, heart-wrenching, brilliant, and daring. The world-building is outstandingly well done, and Young’s talent shows here especially. While both worlds Jos inhabits are intricate and complex, Young brings them each to vivid, sometimes painful reality. I’ll be honest—this is not a book for the faint of heart. Ms. Young explores some dark themes here—homelessness, mental illness, betrayal. And yet despite this, there is humor and hope and love abounding in Josilyn’s story.” –Keith Willis, author of the Knights of Kilbourne series

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Excerpt:

Every molecule of oxygen evaporates from the room. My mouth collapses in on itself, unable to form words to admit what she already knows. How could I be so stupid? The syllables claw at my throat, desperate for release, but years of practice clamp my mouth shut.

Livi reaches out to touch my hand, but I recoil and grip the arms of the chair tighter. My fingertips are numb. The room’s unbearably hot and my heart beats way too fast. I consider throwing up again, but this time it’s not because I want to. 

“It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

I glance up at the abominable officer, and I’m not so sure about that. What I wouldn’t give for him to be my father, here to take me away from this mess. He turns his head and rolls his shoulders back, his face contorting into a mask of contempt. The air in the room thickens and I squint my eyes shut. My face goes completely numb, like someone has punched me with a fistful of Novocain. 

“Can you hear me?” Livi asks.

I slide from the chair to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. I blink again, and my back isn’t against the chair but an enormous boulder, cold and covered with dew. I arch my spine, fitting the curve of it against the stone, trying to ease the prickling sensation that makes me want to rip the clothes from my body.

Livi’s voice pulls me back again, but her sentences are broken. Maybe it’s because she’s so far away – still in the conference room, but I’m here. Wherever here is. A hyacinth-scented breeze tickles my cheek as I let my hands trail through the grass so that it sticks up through my fingers. I turn my face into the breeze to find a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, racing toward me from about thirty yards away. The girl screams, her fear raking against me. 

“Princess!” she wails. Not once, but three times. She hikes up her long skirts, her hair tumbling free from the top of her head and spilling around her shoulders. Her arms pump at her sides as she digs harder into the run. 

This can’t be real. 

Livi’s voice cuts through the distance again. She says things like “panic attack” and “shock.” The truth of it punches me in the gut and leaves me desperate to find my way back to her voice.

The girl looms over me. Her face fades in and out of focus, as if she’s made of oil on water. 

“Princess. Please don’t leave us again. Knights march toward the castle. We are in danger. Your father—you must remain with us.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders, yanking me toward her. Another breath, and the grass slips from between my fingers; the edge of a chair pressing into the back of my head replaces the coolness of the stone. 

I blink again, swallowing back my own puke, and the conference room snaps into focus. They’re both hovering over me, concern on Livi’s face and confusion on the officer’s. They lean back so I can sit up.

Nurse Anne hurries back into the room, pushing through the space they’ve made, and presses a cold towel to my head. “It’s okay, deep breaths." 

The kindness in her voice overwhelms me so much I start to cry, no matter how hard I try not to. At first, my tears are hardly noticeable, but soon they turn into horrible, choking sobs. My heart stutters at an alarming pace and sweat coats my palms, making my grip on the chair's legs slick. I uncurl my fingers and press my hands into the carpet, pushing the tips of my fingers into individual loops in the pile.

The reality of what’s happening slams into me. My pulse quickens and the tingling sensation spreads from my face and down my arms into the tips of my fingers. Blackness closes in from the edges of my vision, creating an elongated tunnel of the central part of the room. Livi hovers over me, her face distorted by the shift in my vision.

I grapple for the seat, anything to ground me in reality. Father’s face flickers in my mind. I’m unable to even consider what might be happening to him at this same moment, not to mention the only plausible explanation for me believing, for even a second, I was sitting in a field of some sort with my back against an imaginary stone. And the girl, so lifelike. 

I am my father’s daughter. And I am terrified of that fact. 

About the Author

K.L. Young's fascination with all things fantastical comes out in her writing, whether it’s dragons, vampires, or ghosts – if it has wings, fangs, or goes bump in the night, she’s writing about it.

She lives in beautiful Chattanooga, Tennessee with her husband, Tim, who’s responsible for making her believe all her writing dreams will come true. Together they have two daughters, Savannah and Tabitha, who both enjoy art and writing as well. By day, she teaches eighth grade in a suburban middle school where she shares her love of writing and dreaming “big dreams” with her students.

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Book Blitz, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Go Home, Afton (Afton Morrison, #1) by Brent Jones

Go Home, Afton
by Brent Jones
(Afton Morrison, #1)
Publication date: June 25th 2018
Genres: Adult, Thriller

We all wear masks, and Afton Morrison is no exception. 

A small-town librarian with a dark side, Afton, twenty-six, has suppressed violent impulses her entire adult life. Impulses that demand she commit murder. 

Blending her urges with reason, Afton stalks a known sexual predator, intending to kill him. But her plan, inspired by true crime and hatched with meticulous care, is interrupted by a mysterious figure from her past. A dangerous man that lurks in the shadows, watching, threatening to turn the huntress into the hunted. 

Go Home, Afton is the first of four parts in a new serial thriller by author Brent Jones. Packed with grit and action, The Afton Morrison Series delves into a world of moral ambiguity, delivering audiences an unlikely heroine in the form of a disturbed vigilante murderess.

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EXCERPT:

Parents—stay-at-home moms, mostly—brought in their toddlers once a week so I could read them a story. And I use the word toddlers loosely. Kids as old as six or seven sometimes attended during the summer. And the stories we would read were made up of fewer than fifty words, for the most part. A lot of the mothers in Wakefield were too lazy to read to their own children, I guess.

Oh, and crafts, too. After reading a story together, we’d break out glitter and colored pencils and paste and other nonsense, but that wasn’t the real reason a dozen women turned out with their little monsters each week. Storytime was an excuse for the mothers to gather and gossip. It always took a little while to get the children to settle down, sure. I’d press my finger to my lips and wait. Five or ten seconds at most, although I would have been happy to wait longer. Their mothers, on the other hand, were so much worse. Getting them to shut their fucking traps was a whole separate exercise in endurance.

But as much as I disliked children, there was something magical about them. It was their inability to see gray, I think. Their entire worlds existed in black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. You could see it in their faces as a story unfolded, rife with nervous energy at every inconsequential turn.

“And she just doesn’t know”—I read to the room, pointing to each gigantic word—“should she stay, should she go?”

I caught a boy’s expression, who sat just inches from me. The hippopotamus in our story was faced with a dilemma, and this boy was transfixed. His eyes were wide, his hands were cupped over his mouth, and he was vibrating with anticipation to see what the hippo would do next.

I flipped to the last page. “But yes the hippopotamus.”

The boy relaxed a little, making a deliberate show of letting his shoulders drop. A talented drama queen in the making. He was new to storytime and looked to be about five or six years old. He had dark hair, a tan complexion, and a missing front tooth. He’d attended just once before and he’d sat close that day, as well. I’d never really been big on learning children’s names, to be honest, but I knew his was Neil only because he’d come to the library alone both times. It sounds strange, I’m sure, but having a parent use the library as a free babysitting service happens more often than most people would guess.

I continued on, reading the final words of the story. “But not the armadillo.”

Neil was stressed all over again, and his tiny hand shot up. “Miss Afton?”

“Yes, ah, Neil? What is it, little man?”

“How come not the arma-darma?”

“Armadillo.” A woman in baggy gray sweatpants corrected him from the back of the room. She was a few years older than me, had bleach-blonde hair in a ponytail, and her voice resembled a seagull getting crushed by a car.

I shut the book and set it on my lap. “That’s a good question, Neil.” I bit my lower lip, deciding how much to share. “Well, let’s see. Ah, no one likes armadillos, for starters. They’re bullet-proof, if you can believe it, and ugly as sin. They carry leprosy, too, but they don’t bite children too often.”

The woman at the back of the room—Sweatpants, let’s call her—looked horrified. Her stained teeth chattered and she blinked in rapid succession. She placed her palms over her daughter’s ears, a girl around three or four in age.

Neil scratched his head. “What’s a lepra-she?”

“It’s—”

Sweatpants raised her hand to silence me—not that I minded—and looked to a few of the other mothers in the room for support, most of whom were checked out or occupied with their phones. She looked back at me again, then at her daughter. “It’s when good little boys and girls get ice cream.” That wasn’t how I might have defined the word, however. “You want to stop for ice cream on the way home, Jessi?”

It was hard enough getting these little turds to sit still for all fourteen pages of But Not the Hippopotamus. Why on earth would this woman want to stuff her daughter’s face with sugar before lunch? But the girl jumped up and squealed at the mention of sweets, and soon, other kids joined in, as did their mothers.

I peeked down at Neil to see him cradling his head in his hands, masking a look of disappointment by staring at the floor. It appeared he had forgotten all about armadillos and leprosy and storytime, and now sulked, wishing he had a parent present to take him for ice cream like the other children.

The mothers talked amongst themselves, and their toddlers fed on the elevated energy levels. The room was alive with discourse, and I wondered if the local Dairy Queen might consider paying me a small commission. “Well, that’s it for storytime, boys and girls. Thanks for coming.”

Sweatpants spoke up at the back of the room, the self-elected leader of Wakefield’s fattest and frumpiest. “But it’s only quarter past, Afton. Isn’t storytime supposed to be a full hour?”

“Just figured you were all on your way to get a double-scoop of leprosy.”

“Very funny.”

I raised my hands in a gesture of mock uncertainty. “We’ve got crafts we can do.” I pointed to three short tables covered in plastic, adorned with supplies that Kim had set up for us. “Should we get to it?”

“That won’t take long. Couldn’t you read them another story first?”

Couldn’t I read them another story? It’d been her idea to squeeze out one of these little nightmares. Why was I being punished for it? “Not this week, I’m afraid. Sorry.”

But she just wouldn’t give up. “Afton, do you know where Jessi’s daddy is right now?”

My first thought was that her husband was probably f***ing her sister at some roadside motel with hourly rates, bed bugs, and a one-star rating on Trip Advisor. I couldn’t say that out loud, of course, and so I fought like hell to keep a smirk off my face. It helped to keep my sights trained on Jessi, who had sat back down, cross-legged in a checkered dress. She was drawing on the floor with one small finger.

Sweatpants answered her own question. “He’s at work, Afton. And he works hard, by the way, and we pay more than our share of taxes in this town. Taxes that pay your salary.”

Oh, the salary card. How I loved it when disgruntled parents brought up my salary, as if any one of them wanted to trade places with me. Yes, her taxes paid me a small fortune. That’s why I rented a one-bedroom apartment in a triplex. And it’s the same reason I drove a seven-year-old Corolla. I was so grateful—indebted, even—to Sweatpants and her husband that I just couldn’t wait to read another story.

“Sure thing.” I grabbed a second book off the pile next to me. “One more story, coming right up.”

Sweatpants smiled. It was a flat, fake smile, of course, the kind where the mouth curls tight but the eyes are dormant. It was about the best I could have hoped for, and it seemed to have a calming effect on the other mothers. They quieted down, eager to return to their various text message conversations.

I pointed my finger to more jumbo text on a colorful page. A story about an overweight and diabetic caterpillar with impulse control issues, who was always so very very hungry. “In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf . . .”

And I couldn’t help but lose myself in thought. I was that little egg on a leaf, glimmering in the moonlight, and about to hatch. Soon after, the morning would come. And my hunger would be satiated at last, because Kenneth Pritchard would be dead.

Author Bio:
From bad checks to bathroom graffiti, Brent Jones has always been drawn to writing. He won a national creative writing competition at the age of fourteen, although he can’t recall what the story was about. Seventeen years later, he gave up his career to pursue creative writing full-time. 

Jones writes from his home in Fort Erie, Canada. He’s happily married, a bearded cyclist, a mediocre guitarist, and the proud owner of two dogs with a God complex.

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