Monday, September 28, 2015

PROMO TOUR: Write to Rescue: An Anthology

Welcome to my tour stop for the exciting Promo Tour for Write to Rescue: An Anthology! These amazing authors got together to write stories to help rescue animals. Yes...rescue animals need love, too! All proceeds from the sale of this awesome anthology will go to animal shelters that help care and save the lives of animals.

Publish Date:
November 1, 2014
SideStreet Cookie Publishing

Rescue animals need love too. That's why these nine authors got together to write stories that will warm your heart and entertain.

All proceeds will go to animal shelters to help take care of and save the lives of the animals that may become your next family member.

There's a little something for everyone.



The Authors & Their Stories:

Taisheena Rayne
Win, Place, or Show

A few minutes after the assistant left, the vet walked in and I had to catch my breath, he was so gorgeous. His brown hair was so dark it appeared black. His eyes were a teal blue so pretty, I think they have to be contacts. He is muscular but not overly so, more like he is just active enough, not a weight lifter or anything. He is about 6'3" or so. He is wearing dark blue scrubs. I take a deep breath and hope like hell that he does not notice that I am  blushing. *Relax, Kendall. Remember, don’t talk too much.*
“Hello, I am sorry about the wait. I am Dr. Stevens.” He turns and puts the chart on the table before he looks back to Leisel.
“Hey, Stacy explained why you were late. It’s very awesome of you to offer your time to the rescue of animals in need.”
“It’s something I feel strongly about. The animals can’t speak for themselves and need to have someone to speak for them.” He smiles, “So what is happening with your baby?”
I am surprised that he calls her my baby; most people don’t understand the relationship that pet owners have with their animals.
“Maybe nothing, but she has been lethargic for the last week.”
“Okay, let’s do some blood tests and go from there, alright?”
His bedside manner is great, his voice is a calming rumble and gives me goosebumps.
I wonder what he would think if he knew that I am thinking totally inappropriate things right now.
I wait about thirty minutes for the labs to get back, then Dr. Stevens returns with a bottle of pills in his hand. He's shaking them in the rhythm of the song Wiggle by Jason Derulo. I recognize the song and it makes me smile.
“Ms Watts, Leisel is going to be fine, she is just pregnant.”
I can’t believe my ears
“What? That can't be!”
I take a deep breath.
“Oh my God, FUDGE, that frickin' mutt. I am going to kill someone. That mutt just ruined my baby. Just because of some irresponsible owners. That can’t keep their dog controlled and on their own property.”
I draw in a hissed breath and stop ranting long enough to look up to Dr. Stevens.
“What happens now? She is a show dog and we have three more shows left this year.”
“Depends on when your shows are but after she has the puppies, she will be fine to show again. And having mixed breed or mutt puppies will not harm her.” He hands me the bottle of pills, with a smile.
“She will need to take one of these every day. She shouldn’t have to come back to see me, but if she starts bleeding, or doesn’t get her energy back, call the office and we can give her different vitamins.”
He looks at me with a smile and gives Leisel a scratch on the head.
“Do you have any more questions or concerns?”
“No, I am good right now. But I plan to have words with that frickin neighbor of mine, letting his mutt run around unsupervised is unacceptable. I might even sue their arses.”
“Well, I can understand your being upset. Filing suit might be a bit extreme, though. She will be fine, lots of dogs get pregnant every day. She can handle it.” He smiles at me with his amazing smile, “I know this is highly unusual but...would you let me take you to dinner?”
I hold Leisel close in front of me and kiss her head as I let my eyes wander over him. I think over his invitation. I am surprised that he wants to go out with me. He is gorgeous.
*You know you want him, Kendall, and damn, I haven’t had a date in two years. I am very attracted to him, dinner wont' be a hardship.*
“Yes, dinner would be great.” I smile as I put Leisel on the ground and attach her leash. He pulls one of his cards out of his pocket and writes on it.
“I will pick you up at 7:00 at your place. You can call if you need to make a change, Ms. Watts.”
I giggle and shake my head, “I think you can call me Kendall now, since we are going on a date tonight.”
He laughs and nods, “You got it, Kendall, and I am Jeffery. My friends call me Jeff.”
“I think I like Jeffery better. If that’s okay?”
“Sure, I think I would like that. See you later, Kendall.”


Shauna Wilhelm
Fostering Hope


“What are you asking me Tristan?” is all Adrianna could say at that moment.

        “Give me and the animals a chance.  From what I can tell, we both need you. You are what I need and my animals need.  That is why I think this is something completely different.  You are the new perspective that the shelter needs.  I know you are in school and can’t be there all the time, but I already decided that I want you there all the time once school is out if you would accept it,” Tristan responded.

        “Tristan, you have not even seen how I handle your schedule, or my work ethics.  How can you say that you want me there full time in nine months?  This is crazy, this is not about the animals, this is about you,” Adrianna couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

        “This is about the animals.  You are the first person I have met that actually loves animals as much as me if not more.  With that capacity of love, you will always put their needs and wants above your own.  I can see this in your eyes.  I think this is partially why we are so attracted to each other because we are similar in our love for animals.  There are very few people out there like us Adrianna, and I have been looking for you for a very long time to help me with this,” Tristan replied with his eyebrows raised more curious as to why Adrianna hadn’t picked up on what he said.


Allana Kephart & Melissa Simmons
The Disturbance

“Okay, now, listen you," I say to my new friend. I have taken it upon myself to mercifully rename him. After a thorough search of the victim’s home, it was discovered the dog’s owner, Mr. Terrance Hendrick, had cruelly named the magnificent beast now sitting in the backseat of my granddad’s ancient Chevy Fluffy…Fluffy! Who would do that to any animal—especially a male one—that weighed over twenty-five pounds? So, I dug through my memory bank and remembered my mother teasing my father and younger brother at one point about getting a dog, a giant police dog, and naming him Angus. I’m not sure it will help me convince Dad to let him crash on the sofa or not, but I figured tugging on Mom’s nostalgic heartstrings couldn’t do any harm. “My dad is under the impression that I signed you off to those oafish animal control ghouls. We’re already skating on thin ice, alright? So here’s the house rules—no barking, no rubbing your fur all over the furniture, and absolutely no peeing. Understand?”

Angus blinks at me silently, like I’m speaking Klingon. His tail is thumping loudly against the leather seats, so I have to believe he understands something I’ve told him. I can’t imagine my dad will be thrilled about this… He’s a big bad police officer, yes, but the man will crawl up on a table and scream bloody murder at the sight of a teacup Chihuahua.

Well… Maybe he’ll take kinder to larger dogs, I tell myself. I let out a sigh and open the door, stepping out of the car. Angus leaps in the front and follows out after me, rushing around and between my legs excitedly. I pull in a deep breath and lead him to the front door, hissing, “Heel. ’Kay?”

He makes what I’m going to call a sound of agreement. I nod and push the front door open, feeling the bottom drop out of my stomach when I see my dad leaning back in his favorite recliner, watching the news on the television. I knew I had to face him, but I thought I’d have the chance to steel myself first! “Hey, Dad,” I say carefully.

“Adam,” he says in greeting, not looking up from the TV. “Can you believe this? It’s been a couple hours and that murder vic you found is all over the news! Surefire way to chase the suspect out of—Why is that thing in my house?

Completely ignoring the fit he was about to throw about Mr. Hendrick’s murder on every Illinois news feed, I plaster on the biggest smile I can and say, “Dad, meet Angus. Angus, meet my dad, JJ Emerson,” in lieu of explanation.

My dad is not a small man. He’s almost six-four and looks like all he does is pull-ups and jumping jacks. Sure, he has a bit of a potbelly coming in from age, but he is truly the most frightening man this side of Chicago. So seeing him pull his feet up on his recliner like a little kid is nothing short of hysterical. “Adam James Emerson,” my dad says.
"Why is that dog in my house?”

“There’s a perfectly logical explanation for this,” I tell him.

“Is that so?” he grunts. “I’m listening.”

I scratch my head, stalling for time. Angus plants his fluffy bum on my foot and tilts his head back to look at me. Then an idea strikes. “He’s a witness!” I cry.

“A witness?” my dad repeats, sounding exhausted already.

“Of course!” I continue. “And he might be in danger.”


“I’m serious! I mean, think about it, Dad, this poor creature witnessed his owner being brutally murdered, his own father. I cannot even imagine the emotional trauma he must be in,” I say seriously. “Our murderer was clean, didn’t leave a single print, but he also didn’t think about eliminating a key witness—but I promise you, if I had let those terrible people from animal control take Angus here, our killer would have struck again.”

“You named it…” my dad sighs. He puts his feet back on the floor and drops his head in his hands, groaning in frustration. “Adam, the dog cannot stay here.”

“Aww, come on, Dad,” I plead. “Look at this face. Look at these big, sad eyes—how can you throw this poor baby out on the street?”

Angus whines and drops his ears, lying down on his stomach and pulling himself toward my father with his front paws. I see every muscle in my father’s body tense, but he retains his girlish screams of panic. “Very easily.”

“What’s going on in here?” my mom asks, sneaking in from the kitchen. My dad opens his mouth to explain, but before he can my mom squeals. “Oh my goodness! Who is this?”

“Mom, this is Angus,” I say with a barely contained smirk.

“Angus!” she cries, her eyes widening in thrill. She drops down on her knees and Angus throws himself into her waiting arms, rubbing all over her as she coos and pets him.
Faye,” my dad begs, a blush creeping up his neck over his wife’s automatic acceptance of a giant creature in the living room.

“Whose is he?” my mom asks me.

“His owner was killed.” My dad’s eyes grow comically wide and he promptly makes a slicing motion across his neck, knowing where I’m going with this. He puffs out his cheeks and mimes punching himself in the face, shooting himself in the mouth, stabbing himself in the gut and even hanging himself, each action followed by a subtle point in my direction. I blink at him innocently and shrug one shoulder, pretending I don’t know what he’s trying to tell me, and say, “He’s homeless, Ma.”

“Oh, that just won’t do!” my mom says, shaking her head. “Not when we have this big pet-free house. Right, John?”

“Faye, I don’t know…”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this dog,” she says. Angus rolls off of her and barks at my dad. Mom and I pretend not to see him flinch, and Mom scoots closer to him and puts both her hands on his knee. “Please? What harm could it do?”

My dad’s resolve visibly cracks under Mom’s doe-eyed stare and he bites down on his lower lip, shaking his head as he tries to come up with a way to deny her this wish. My mom is a petite little thing, with a head of auburn hair and giant brown eyes that have always been able to crack through my dad’s spiky exterior. I am pretty sure he’s never been able to say no to her.

“Fine,” my dad groans out like the word physically hurts him. “Fine, fine, we can keep him…for now…”


Karli Rush
Nine Lives

The bundle of keys in her hands jangle noisily and bluntly, just like the bangles and shiny trinkets wrapped around her boney wrist. One of those skeletal-like arms reaches in and just as I let out a hiss she grabs me by the back of my neck, hoisting me up into the air.

“Mama, don’t that hurt the cat?” the little girl asks holding out her arms. The second I’m released by the wretched woman, she consoles the worried girl.

“No, child. Dis the way a mama carries their babies. No harm,” she explains and warmly pats her on the cheek. The bottom of her old shoes begin to shuffle from side to side as she makes her way toward the counter. Papers are signed, random things are typed into a computer, and the final goodbyes are made. But just as I see the clean, clear polished front door, the seemingly familiar woman calls out. “Best be good to her,” she advises, shaking a silver slender ringed finger at us.

The child, who can’t be no older than eight or nine, spins around and happily replies, “Oh, we will Miss Labbe, cross my heart.”

The woman toys with her scads of abnormal necklaces and tiny charms along her neck and amusingly laughs. “Good. But I was talking to the cat, child.”


Carolyn Wolfe
Miracle Paws

The dog had not moved, just sat shivering and looking at the two females crouching just outside the terrible fence. There was no hope in its eyes, no longing, just despair. It shivered, then sneezed. The sound of a respiratory infection in the dogs lungs, reached her ears and tightened her gut. Tom better get here soon or electric fence or no electrical fence, she was going in.
Even as she thought of this, she knew that it was a hopeless wish, as these damn fences were high voltage and dangerous!
Tom pulled his Jeep into the parking lot, and parked right behind his Aunt’s vehicle.
He jumped out of the car and shouted, “ Barry got the electricity turned off. He and Butch are working on finding the owners, let me get my tools.”
A minute later they were all three crouching before the fence, with Tom cutting into it with brute force. He was channeling all the anger that the had for the owners of this dog, into cutting open the fence. Finally, a hole was big enough for all three to crawl through, and they were running toward the dog.


Emily Walker

Warning – a bit PG
Muffin started to sharpen her claws on the back of his chair and he swiped at her with one hand not looking around to see her.

She sank her claws in deep all the way up his arm and bit he shook her off cussing. Looking at the tiny beads of blood popping up all over his arm he hated her even more. It wasn't until he did up and went to chase her that he saw her sitting on the mantel looking down at him and the sharpening continued behind the chair.

Immediately the image of the orange tom cat flashed into his head. The bastard was smiling at him and had taken a fair amount of skin off of his arm. As he rounded the back of his chair ready to show the tom his boot, he saw a flash of black and then it turned and hissed. Another male cat had gotten in, no doubt looking for Muffin, the slut. Taking the broom from where his wife had left it and pushed it against the side of the agitated cat to usher it towards the doggy door and out.

His arm stung and he watched his skin welt up angrily around the scratches. The blood continued to flow and the alcohol in his veins was making it worse.

"Damn cats, I'm going to find a bullet for each of you." Grabbing a roll of paper towels from the cabinet he rolled off a few and held them to the scratches. He thought about it a minute and decided to wet them to clean up a little better. He glanced up above the sink when a slight movement caught his eye and looked into the eyes of a gray cat with big yellow eyes.

“What the hell is this house, the pussy Grand Central Station?” He headed back across the kitchen to grab the broom again. Muffin continued to clean herself without paying any attention to him or her male suitors.

“You aren’t going to lead them out? There are too many cats in this house already.” The cat above the sink took the opportunity to leap onto his shoulder digging its nails in deep and causing him to yelp in pain.


Miranda Stork & Trish Marie Dawson
A Tale of Two Kitties

(Bit of an explanation - this story is between our two rescue cats, and their attempts to plot while keeping diaries and using Skype. It's all explained in the story, I promise. ;))
I’m starting to think it’s a wonderful thing, having three dogs in the house, two of them still in that annoying puppy stage. All I had to do to procure the viewing box tonight, was knock over a planter in the living room while the canines did their nightly bonding play. Then I peed on the boy’s shoe. My human will be busy for some time.
*click-click-click-click-click* What the heck was my password thingy?? *click-click* Nope. Damn. *click-click-click-click* GAH! Oh yeah. Duh. ‘w-h-i-s-k-e-r-s’. Okay, I’m in!
RiverRunsThruIt11:  Pssst. Pssssst.
Tinsel, calling Sir Tinsel.
Are you there?
TinselXmasTree07:  Bloody hell! You startled me! What do you want?
RiverRunsThruIt11:  Ah, so you are there! Good. Hi.
TinselXmasTree07:  You woke me from my nap to say ‘hi’?
RiverRunsThruIt11:  It’s late at night, what are you sleeping for? Most cats are wide awake at this hour.
TinselXmasTree07:  ^-_-^
It’s barely dawn here, what are you going on about, late at night? I believe your human has drugged you with too much nip.
Go away.
RiverRunsThruIt11:  Is that a…is that a cat face with squinty eyes? Did you just squinty-eye me? LOL
TinselXmasTree07:  I said, go away.
RiverRunsThruIt11:  But, I’m bored.
Really bored.
Sooooo bored.
Ridiculously bored.
Wow, that doesn’t look like a cat. It looks like a gremlin.
Hahahahaha, that’s me on too much of the nip!
TinselXmasTree07:  OMG. Just. I can’t even. You aren’t going away any time soon, are you?
RiverRunsThruIt11:  No.
TinselXmasTree07:  ^-_-^
RiverRunsThruIt11:  You can’t use that one.
TinselXmasTree07:  I beg your pardon?
RiverRunsThruIt11:  You can’t use that one, you already did. Be creative.
TinselXmasTree07:  Fine. If I play this rather unappealing game, will you leave me be?
RiverRunsThruIt11:  Maybe.
TinselXmasTree07:  Fine. Um.
RiverRunsThruIt11:  I’m waiting…
TinselXmasTree07:  Okay, okay!
RiverRunsThruIt11:  What is that??
TinselXmasTree07:  It’s a wink, you daft feline!
RiverRunsThruIt11:  Oh! I thought maybe something was in its eye. Here’s another…
TinselXmasTree07:  I’m waiting…
RiverRunsThruIt11:  Hold on! I’m thinking.
TinselXmasTree07:  What’s that supposed to be?
RiverRunsThruIt11:  It’s a cat’s butt! Bwahahahahahaha!
TinselXmasTree07:  No! You’re absurdly inappropriate!
RiverRunsThruIt11:  LOL I thought it was funny. Even gave it a tail. So, you know, it’s accurate.
TinselXmasTree07:  Well, if you want accurate, it would look more like this…
RiverRunsThruIt11:  Hahahahahahahaha!!!


Laura DeLuca
Nine Lives

As soon as I stepped from the shadow of the woods, I saw Teri. She wept, the sound a searing combination of grief and anger that tore right through my soul with its passionate agony. Her nightgown was covered in mud and blood as she cradled a still and lifeless form in her arms, clinging to it as though she might be able to breathe life back into it with the sheer force of her will. But no matter how much she wished for it, that empty shell was still only a body.
My body.
I opened my mouth to protest what I was seeing, to try to make sense of it. How could that chalk-faced man lying in Teri’s arms be me when I was standing right there watching them. But when I tried to call out to her, to tell her there was some kind of mistake, the only sound that emerged was a course and unpracticed meow—a sound that neither Teri nor the swarm of police officers paid any attention to. I didn’t want to do it, but I forced myself to look down at the healthy and invigorated body that had carried me so effortlessly on my romp through the woods. As soon as I got a good look, it all started to make sense. For the first time I realized I was walking on four legs—well, four paws if you wanted to get technical, each with six toes instead of five. Gremlin’s toes. It should’ve come as no surprise that I had the agility and speed of a feline, since somehow I had become one.
Again, I glanced over at Teri as she cradled my lifeless carcass. I came to the sudden and terrifying realization that, not only was I dead, I had somehow gotten myself stuck inside the body of a stray cat.


Michael G. Williams
The Pride

Helen Abernathy passed away in her sleep, a slight smile on her face from a pleasant dream, at a ripe old age in excess of years her doctor or she herself had expected. I feel it’s important to include these details, thin though they be, in order to emphasize the fact our story – my story – in some ways begins with a death but is not solely a tale of tragedy. Sad as it made us for Helen to die, it also quite literally made us.

Helen’s death was the awakening of The Pride.

Many stories begin with a death. Many end with a death. Helen liked stories that did both: detective stories with handsome private eyes always a little ruffled and a week behind on rent. She would read them aloud to herself by dim light and she wondered after whether any of her detectives would ever meet a nice girl who could smooth down their fur and make them respectable. Helen liked to imagine herself doing that for them, like those detectives were just another kind of rescue animal waiting to find hers was their new “forever home.”

Helen was a habitual savior. She had a lot of love to give and a very little money to spare and she made it her mission to give both to those just scraping by. She wanted to make things a little easier for them. Helen gave her change to the panhandlers; she gave her time as a volunteer for a half dozen causes; and she gave her heart and her home to twenty-seven cats and one browbeaten St. Bernard named Louie.

Looking back on it, I now think that’s why she always had such pleasant dreams.
We’ll never really understand why, but as Helen’s own mind diminished, ours increased. Dementia crept across Helen’s awareness like rain clouds moving in on a sunny day: the light faded here and there, spotty at first, and over time things became gradually more dim, then altogether dark. As this happened, the light of our own awareness increasingly dawned. We came to comprehend many things over time, among them that we could comprehend. By the time Helen’s mind had mostly gone, intelligence had spread between us like a creeping vine.

It hadn’t quite stuck, though. Helen would have moments of clarity, startling out of her habitual daze to look around at a house maintained by processes she couldn’t remember because she had not participated in them. We had taken care of everything as the blank white sheet of absence was tucked around the corners of her mind. When that happened, it was like sentience was yanked out from under us. We would tumble from whatever vastly complicated process we’d been undertaking, dazed, unaware, once again merely a collection of cats in a increasingly sketchy little house in a slightly shabby neighborhood.

Louie, the St. Bernard, never seemed to notice one way or the other.


**About the Authors**

Michael G. Williams
(The Pride)
Michael Williams.jpeg
Michael G. Williams is the author of numerous novels (Perishables, Tooth & Nail, Deal with the Devil) and such short stories as "The Several Monsters of Saint Sara-La-Noire" (ThemeThology: Invasion) and "Daddy Used to Drink Too Much" (Wrapped in Red), "His Shrine to Santa Muerte" (Wrapped in White), and "Stories I Tell to Girls" (Wrapped in Black), a trilogy published across three Sekhmet Press anthologies. Michael lives in Durham, North Carolina, with his partner and two ridiculously spoiled rescue cats.


Laura DeLuca
(Nine Lives)
Laura DeLuca.jpg
Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the editor of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. Her works include romantic thrillers, paranormal fiction, contemporary romance, and young adult.
Let me know if this is okay. Should have the edits back to you by tomorrow.I did go through and accepted all your changes but I want to read it through one more time for type-os and I have to wait until the kids are in bed :)


Karli Rush
(Nine Lives)
Karli Rush was born in the heart of Cherokee Nation and lives in its capital.  Her Native American heritage holds sway over her writing in many ways. She has the patience of a brain surgeon operating under fire in a war zone. You can chalk that up to her being the mother of an autistic kiddo. With the passion of a starving artist, she writes. The obsession to tell her tales have led her to write novels in the worlds of Dark Paranormal, Romance, Dystopian, and Vampires. She walks in two worlds, one grounds her and the other frees her imagination.


Allana Kephart and Melissa Simmons
(The Disturbance)
Mel and Lana Weird 4.jpg
Allana Kephart has been making things up and bending people to her will from a very young age. She loves animals and reading and spends a large amount of time thinking up ways to torment her characters.

Melissa Simmons is an avid reader who married her soul mate and is the proud mother of a spoiled cat. She spends her days helping promote
independent authors and doing what the voices in her head tell her to. 

They share a brain, a love of coffee and the color purple.


Emily Walker
Emily Walker loves creating worlds and stumbling around in them. She is constantly losing her chap-stick, and has an obsession with the color pink. Currently a resident of the mountains and loving the view she writes mostly paranormal fiction, and horror. Her small family consists of her red bearded other half, a rat terrier named Rebel, and a cat called Mr. Creepy.


Miranda Stork and Trish Marie Dawson
(A Tale of Two Kitties)
Miranda Stork Bio Picture.jpg
Miranda’s bio:
I live in the middle of a forest in North Yorkshire, spending my spare time as the wild woman of the woods, scaring small children and upsetting the sheep. On the days that I feel like being civilized, or I haven't got any unicorns to ride, I sit down and pour the tumbling thoughts in my head out onto digital paper and turn them into paranormal/gothic books. I like taking the classical myths and monsters and giving them a new, contemporary twist, then make them into something that readers can lose themselves in.

Trisha Marie Dawson.jpg
Trish's bio:
Trish was born and mostly raised in San Diego, California USA. She lives there now with her family and furbabies. When she's not homeschooling or pretending to do chores, she's reading and writing.

Writer of Fantasy Fiction, Paranormal, YA/NA, Mystery, Horror...
The Find Me Series and the Station Series are available online at Amazon, B&N, Kobo and iTunes, as well as The Well Collector and the collaborative anthology, Once Upon A Twisted Time.


Carolyn Wolfe
(Miracle Paws)
Carolyn Wolfe.JPG
Carolyn Wolfe is a free-lance writer, published poet, and author of eight books, which range from poetry to  fantasy and includes children's literature. Her body of work includes writing articles for newspapers and newsletters,  and hosting poetry events in the Winchester,VA area where she lives with her photographer husband, Scott and her  house full of animal companions.


Taisheena Rayne
(Win, Place or Show)
Taisheena Rayne.jpg
I am a koala bear sleeping between 18 to 22 hours per day, just ask my (grown) kids.
I have always loved to read. I love how you can be in another world, where heroes always succeed and romance blooms.
Now I create my own worlds where heroines can save the day, love survives and maybe just maybe, dragons are the good guys.


Shauna Wilhelm
(Fostering Hope)
Shauna Wilhelm.jpg
Shauna Wilhelm grew up always liking to write, even doing a program in high school called power of the pen called power of the pen which was a competitive creating writing group.  After that she mainly just wrote poems, which was an outlet to express her emotions to everyday situations rather than keeping them bottled up inside.  This is the first time she has branched out into writing more than a poem and it is also the first time she is sharing her work for someone to read.

All proceeds will go to animal shelters to help take care of and save the lives of the animals that may become your next family member.

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