22 July 2022

Santiago: Chronicles of a Young Traveler! by Eduardo Rios Lasso Blog Tour! @Bookgal @therealbookgal

 


Fresh out of college, 26-year-old Santiago has always longed to see the world, but his anxiety gets in the way. How can he possibly travel abroad if he feels sometimes heart-pounding pressure by simply riding a bus? But one day, after years of saving, Santiago courageously buys a ticket around the world. His parents think he’s crazy, but he takes a leap of faith and sets out alone. However, the world he had imagined was far from reality.

 

Meanwhile, Santiago finds out his best friend Laura, who could not join him on the trip, battles a recently diagnosed autoimmune disease. Will he regret his decision to leave her behind? Will their friendship survive or blossom into something more? On his journeys from New York to Lisbon, Paris to Sarajevo, and Istanbul to Bali, Santiago must overcome his shyness and open up his heart despite facing challenges, such as scams, and confronting complex issues like human trafficking. Join Santiago on a journey of self-discovery and adventure like no other.



Eduardo Rios Lasso emerged as a writer during his career as a medical doctor. Born and raised in Panama City, Panama, his journey has taken him around the globe to dozens of countries. Along the way, he found a passion for travel writing that seeks out positive life experiences while also sharing the common interests and challenges that bring different cultures together. Eduardo currently resides in Germany, where he is completing his training in Internal Medicine. SANTIAGO - Chronicles of a Young Traveler is his first book.


Website: http://www.zibarna.com

Instagram: http://instagram.com/e.rioslasso


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Interview with the author


On writing:


How did you do research for your book?

  • Since this book is my first, I educate myself first on how to write a book. Every book that came to my hands about “how to write a book” was devoured by me. I also attended writers’ conferences to learn more about the different literature and writing genres. I touched on topics like prostitution and human trafficking, which was very hard to show in the book the way I wanted. I made my best effort for it. I interviewed people who work in NGOs with trafficked victims and with people who work as sex workers. Read and inform myself as much as possible about every topic I will discuss in the book.


Which was the hardest character to write? The easiest?

- The hardest was probably Laura. Since I wanted (I hope I made it) to show her as a strong woman who could move forward despite moments of sorrow, I hope it can lead young girl readers to stay strong.

- The easiest was Santiago. When I came up with the idea, I knew exactly how I wanted him to be.


In your book you make a reference to....how did you come up with this idea? What made you write a book about...?


  • I have always enjoyed writing. I could always communicate better through writing than speaking from a very young age. After being scammed while traveling a while ago, I decided that I would make a blog about traveling. My father has written books too, but law-specific things, so the idea of writing a book was something not strange to me. But the idea of writing this book came up one day when I realized I had just written too much for a blog. I originally planned. Back then was more of a non-fiction book. But then I started to learn how to write a book and how the publishing industry works. I was fascinated with all I could do writing a fiction book but inspired by real-life stories.


Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

  • From my own travel. The more I travel, the more stories and ideas come to me.


There are many books out there about....What makes yours different?

  • My book combines traveling with social issues affecting our cities and where a traveler can potentially make a big difference. And it is also directed to a younger audience.


What advice would you give budding writers?

  • If you don’t know how to write a book and you want. Start writing your idea as if you were talking with yourself; explain and try to convince yourself of what you write. On the way, your creativity will be unleashed. And read, read books; if you know what type of book you want to write, make sure you find excellent examples. And last, get involved in writing groups and get to know fellow writers who support each other. Prepare yourself for it.


Your book is set in (name place). Have you ever been there?

  • My book takes place in 14 different countries! And yes, I have been in every city mentioned in the book.


If you could put yourself as a character in your book, who would you be?

  • I could see myself as Adyn, the character that plays in chapters 7 through 9.


Do you have another profession besides writing?

  • Yes, I am a medical doctor; I work in internal medicine and emergency medicine in Germany, where I've lived for the last seven years. It happens that I love both traveling and writing combined. I want to establish myself now as a writer.


How long have you been writing?

  • Continuously since 2016.


Do you ever get writer’s block? What helps you overcome it?

  • Oh yes, I did!. Sometimes just wrote everything that came to my mind, even things that made no sense. Sometimes it did not work, and I had to stop and continue writing after 2-3 days, usually on a day that was not so stressful at work. It always works differently for every people; in my case, the less stress I had, the better I wrote.


What is your next project?

  • I am already working on the second part of Santiago. I am building the story arc of a family saga – more of a local story in Panama, fiction, but as always inspired by real-life stories. But probably the most significant project is to travel west and south of Africa and write a story about my connection as Latinamerican to Africa. That would be my first non-fiction book.


What genre do you write and why?

  • Fiction mostly! Because it allows me to do more, say more, and express more. I also love coming-of-age books because they can teach, inspire, or give a lesson. I am convinced that the generation of the 80s and 90s is our future. They are the ones who can make changes in our society.


What is the last great book you’ve read?

  • The last great book I read was Pachinko von Min Jin Lee. I loved it!


What is a favorite compliment you have received on your writing?

  • That my writing to reach reader’s hearts!


How are you similar to or different from your lead character?

We both love traveling and have a strong desire to see the world but also to do good!


If your book were made into a movie, who would star in the leading roles?

Oh, excellent question! I have to think about Santiago, but Zendaya could do Laura! Hahaha, she is so talented!


If your book were made into a movie, what songs would be on the soundtrack?

  • Oh, I love this question, I would put high hopes by Panic at the Disco, Underdog by Alicia Keys, Love someone by Lukas Graham, Rude by Magic, Imagination by Shawn Mendes.


What were the biggest rewards and challenges with writing your book?

  • The most significant rewards were:

  • The learning.

  • Knowing that I could do it.

  • All the people I got to meet and be in touch with during all these years.

The challenges? Probably was the time since I had some demanding schedules at work and sometimes a little free time where I also had to study. With a lot of work, it somehow worked.


In one sentence, what was the road to publishing like?

  • Tough, very tough, and lonely sometimes.


What is one piece of advice you would give to an aspiring author?

  • To sit and write and believe you can do it, everybody has the potential to do it. It would help if you also have patience.


Which authors inspired you to write?

  • No one in particularly I must say. But I have been reading a lot lately and like a lot Matt Haig, Min Jin Lee and Ocean Vuong.


What is something you had to cut from your book that you wish you could have kept?

  • The scene when Santiago sold his old car to get more funds for his travel.


On rituals:


Do you snack while writing? Favorite snack?

  • Usually, there is only water, coffee, and nuts on my table.


Where do you write?

- I can write in any room as long as I am in complete silence. I can write in groups and have done it. But the best of me comes when I am alone with myself.


Do you write every day?

  • No, sometimes I need days in between for an idea to mature.


What is your writing schedule?

- Whenever my work schedule allows me. Usually in the evening and on the weekends. I write a lot when I am on vacation; late at night is my best time to be the most creative.


Is there a specific ritualistic thing you do during your writing time?

  • I just try to be relaxed and make sure I will have no distractions while writing.


In today’s tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper?

- I write primarily on my laptop, but sometimes an idea comes to me on the street after seeing something as if it was a revelation. Then I need to write that on my mobile quickly before I forget or write it down if I have a notebook.


Fun stuff:


If you could go back in time, where would you go?

  • I have been thinking lately of going back to Bali


Favorite travel spot?

- It constantly changes; right now, there is a tied between Lisbon and Paris.


Favorite dessert?

  • Crème brulée


If you were stuck on a deserted island, which 3 books would you want with you? 

  • My book SANTIAGO, because it represents to me many things together. A medical textbook, and the little prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.


What’s the funniest thing that ever happened to you? The scariest? The strangest? 

  • So many have been funniest.


What’s the most courageous thing you’ve ever done?

  • I hiked a mountain in Switzerland and hung literally from a cable over 1000 m high; the slightest mistake, and I was gone! Courageous, but now that I think, kind of scary too, since it was my first time hiking such mountains.


Any hobbies? or Name a quirky thing you like to do.

I enjoy going to the gym. I started recently with Crossfit, and I love it.


If there is one thing you want readers to remember about you, what would it be?

  • That my books are fun, but they also left them with a message that they could put into action at some point in their lives. Be more empathetic to other cultures, especially the ones different than them.


What is something you've learned about yourself during the pandemic?

  • Patience! That I need more patience!


What TV series are you currently binge watching?

  • The Korean version of Money heist


What is your favorite thing to do in (current season)?

  • Go for biking and swimming.


What song is currently playing on a loop in your head?

  • At the moment High hopes from Panic at the Disco! Just my mood now.


What is something that made you laugh recently?

  • A Patient at work.


What is your go-to breakfast item?

  • Coffee and Muesli.


What is the oldest item of clothing you own?

  • I tend not to keep clothes for a long time; I give them away after some time. But I still have a white shirt I bought ten years ago!


Tell us about your longest friendship.

- My older sister! She has been there like a guardian since day one! Helping me through all my challenges, dreams, wishes, and all!


What is the strangest way you've become friends with someone?

  • On a plane!


Who was your childhood celebrity crush?

  • Think I really did not have , boring I know!.


July 18th

Bookworm86

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July 19th

A Wonderful World of Words

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July 20th

@pages.for.sanity

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July 21st

Unconventional Quirky Bibliophile

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July 22nd

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Dark Hearts by @mokeefeauthor Book Blitz and Giveaway! #mokeefe #DarkHearts #XpressoTours @XpressoTours

 

Dark Hearts
M. O’Keefe


Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

“No man ever made me so curious. Or reckless.”

Poppy lives a charmed life. From the outside she’s the wife of a wealthy senator, wearing jewels and designer clothes. Other people don’t know she lives in the dark. Her husband is a monster in a bespoke suit.

Then Ronan Byrne shows up on their marble doorstep, armed and dangerous. He sees through her calm, cultured facade to the fear underneath.

He’s determined to help her, whether she wants it or not.

“M. O’Keefe brings her A-game in this sexy, complicated romance where you’re left questioning if everything you thought was true!” – New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg

DARK HEARTS is a boxed set that contains three full-length novels: Ruined, Broken, and Untamed by bestselling and award-winning author M. O’Keefe.

Welcome to the Midnight Dynasty… The warring Morelli and Constantine families have enough bad blood to fill an ocean, and their brand new stories will be told by your favorite dangerous romance authors.

WARNING: This book is intended for readers eighteen years old and over. It contains material that some readers could find disturbing. Enter at your own risk…

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / Google Play

EXCERPT:

You want to know what the rich and powerful do? They go to parties like this one. And on little plates they carry food around that they don’t actually eat. In heavy crystal glasses they drink champagne and scotch. Rivers of it. They laugh and whisper and watch each other out of the corners of their eyes.

But really what they do is pretend. That’s all. They play pretend in their four-thousand-dollar tuxes and ten-thousand-dollar dresses.

They pretend to care what the person they’re talking to is actually saying. They pretend to give a shit about whatever cause to which they’re donating money. Or in the case of tonight’s party—the marriage of a 20-year-old girl to a 48-year-old man.

They pretend that it’s not gross.

My sister Zilla and I played a version of this exact same game that hot summer under the willow tree at the back of our estate. Wearing our mother’s nightgowns with thin little straps and lace that fell past our little girl knees, Zilla would hold out a leaf with a worm on it.

“It’s a delicacy where I come from,” she’d say in a ridiculous accent.

“After you,” I’d say, trying to sound like the Queen of England but getting tangled up somewhere in the deep south. And then, because she was fearless, Zilla would pick up that worm, bite it in half, and swallow it down.

“Show me,” I’d say, and she’d open her mouth to reveal nothing but her molars poking through the tender pink of her gums. And then she’d dab the corners of her mouth with the leaf, and we’d tip our heads back and fake laugh.

But the fake laughs always turned to real ones. Ones that shook our bellies and made us collapse onto the ground.

That was not going to happen at this party.

“Are you all right?” asked Mrs. . . . oh, god, what was her name? She was important, I’d been told that earlier. I’d been told not to forget that this woman in the vast sea of important women at this party, was important.

“I’m fine,” I said, but there was sweat pooling between my breasts. The sweat had nothing to do with the heat of summer in Upstate New York and everything to do with my life ending while people ate shrimp cocktail.

The harpist in the corner struck up what sounded like the exact same song she’d been playing for the last hour. It was. It was the same song. The harpist was playing a joke on all the assholes at this party.

Oh god, the thought just occurred to me—she thinks I am one of the assholes.

“As I was saying,” the important woman said. The diamonds in her ears were the size of pea gravel and could keep Zilla in Belhaven for a month. “The senator has done excellent work for the state in Washington. Everyone here fully supports his tax relief bill.”

“I’m sure he appreciates that.”

“Tell him, won’t you?” she asked, leaning in closer. “I have a nephew graduating Harvard and he’s hoping to intern with the senator next year.”

Little did Important Woman know, I had no power. Everything about me—from the dress I was wearing to the seven million thread count pillowcase I would lay my head upon tonight—was a loan I was in the process of paying back.

“Sure,” I said.

“You must be so excited,” Important Woman said. “How that man has managed to stay single is a mystery to me.”

“I think I just need to get a breath of fresh air,” I said and then rudely, really rudely, just walked away from that important woman.

Whoa.

I was really starting to unravel. Despite being in this house roughly a million times, I couldn’t seem to find a door leading to a room I wanted to be in.

There was like . . . a hysterical giggle in my chest. Or a scream? Maybe it was a scream. Or a sob.

All three?

Was that even possible?

I’d wished a million times since all this started that I was more like my sister. Tougher. Stronger. Angrier.

Strong was never a word anyone had applied to me.

I had to get out of the Constantine compound. Now. Three seconds ago.

The champagne glass in my hand was empty, and I handed it to a waiter, not waiting to answer his polite question about having more of the expensive bubbly. If I opened my mouth too wide I was afraid, well, not afraid as much as I was sure, absolutely sure that I would ruin not just this night. But everything—the whole spider web keeping my sister and me safe would be torn apart. So I kept my mouth shut as I pushed past Tinsley Constantine.

“Are you all right, Poppy?” Tinsley asked. We weren’t close, me and Tinsley. The Constantine children breathed rarified air, and when I was around them, I felt all the arrows of my circumstances. We’d been raised as cousins of a sort, but we all knew that was a lie. Now, since leaving college, I was staying in their pool house. And they never intentionally made me feel bad, but I could tell they didn’t like how much their mother cared about me.

And they really didn’t love me staying in the pool house.

“I’m fine,” I said with what I hoped was a smile. I could see across the room Winston and Perry, Caroline’s sons, tracking this conversation. And more eyes were not what I needed. “I just need some air.”

They were one hundred percent pitying me and barely hiding it.

I was one hundred percent freaking out and barely hiding it.

The front doors were still open, people walking in and out, and the big veranda would be just as crowded as this ballroom, so I followed a server out the door and through a wood-panelled study full of men in tuxedos.

I didn’t look at their faces. In this world, this place, they all looked the same. White, slightly saggy, watery-eyes behind glasses that assessed my worth as I went running past.

In my desperation, I got turned around inside the sprawling mansion and found myself in the small sitting room being used as a bar for the catering staff. The same room where Caroline had changed my life forever—god, was that . . . Christmas? How had my life changed so dramatically in a few months?

“You have to listen to me,” Caroline said, sitting next to me on the little settee facing the icy window. The white twinkle lights reflected in her eyes. “This is serious. And this is hard. But you’re not a little girl anymore.”

“I know,” I said. I’d turned 20 in the spring. And now that Dad was dead, I was Zilla’s legal guardian. Frankly, I hadn’t been a little girl since Mom died. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt like a little girl.

“Your father . . .” Caroline took a deep breath. “There’s no money, Poppy.”

“For what?” I asked.

“There’s no money for you. For school. For Zilla. You need to sell the house to pay off what he owed.”

“Okay,” I felt the ground shifting under my feet. “The life insurance—”

“He cashed it out a year ago.”

“My college fund?”

“Gone. The money from your mother’s estate. All gone. There’s nothing, Poppy.”

“How will I pay for Zilla—”

“You’re going to need to drop out of school, and we need to figure something out.”

“You all right, miss?” a server asked while trying to get by me with a tray of empty glasses from the kitchen.

“Bad place to stop,” a guy said, lifting his tray of full glasses over my head as he went by.

“I just need . . . fresh air.”

“The front—”

“And privacy.”

The server nodded once, her no-nonsense ponytail swishing over her dark vest. “Follow me,” she said.

Maybe I could get a job as a server with this catering company. She probably made good money. I didn’t have any experience serving appetizers on trays, and probably way too much experience eating them. But I could learn. Probably.

We were through the kitchen and down another hall, and finally she pushed open a door to a small brick patio with a few chairs around what looked like a fire pit. I could see the swimming pool beyond. The pool house where I’d been staying since Christmas like some very unwanted guest. The gazebo. Tennis courts. The manicured lawns slipped down over the hills to the shadowed tree line. Fresh air abounded. The sounds of the party were muffled.

I could almost pretend I was far away from it all.

“You should be okay out here,” the server said in her neat vest and bow tie. I loved bow ties. Honestly, I was made to be a catering server.

“Thank you so much!” I said, showing way too much enthusiasm for the kindness she’d shown me, but there’d been a real lack of kindness—big or small, in my life in the last year so I always got a little messy around it.

“It’s just where the servers smoke, nothing to get excited about,” she said with lots of side eye.

The server vanished through the open doorway, and I walked out into the grass, past the edge of the light thrown from the lantern fixture over the door. In the distance was the thick tree line that separated the Constantine land from my parent’s old house. When Zilla found out what Dad had done, she burned the house down. That’s when we knew the medication wasn’t enough. That’s when Belhaven happened. When everything changed. What was left of the house after the fire and the willow tree had been bulldozed, the pond filled, the land sold to the Constantine’s.

I could run around to the front of the house and get a key from the valet. Any key. Any car. And I could drive away.

Except, you idiot, you don’t know how to drive.

I could run. Just . . . run. Even as I thought it, I was slipping out of my shoes. The grass cold and damp and real beneath my feet. That was how bad I wanted to escape—my body was committed to action before I’d fully finished the thought. God. I wanted to RUN.

Run and do what? Go where? What about Zilla?

The thoughts were chains erupting out of the grass and wrapping around my feet.

Hands in fists, tears in my eyes, I opened my mouth ready to scream. Ready to let all the poison out, no matter who heard me. Let all of them hear me—Important Woman with the earrings, the Constantine children, the server who in another life might be my best friend—I’d go back in there in a minute and smile and thank them. Show them the stupid rock on my finger and blush and laugh, but now, let them stand in those rooms and know they were robbing me. Killing me. Let them—

“Jesus Christ, you okay?” a thick Irish accent asked from the darkness in the corner of the patio, and instead of screaming I kind of squeaked.

Which, honestly, was about right.

M. O'Keefe is the darker, more dangerous pen name of bestselling author Molly O'Keefe. She is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Everything I Left Unsaid series and the upcoming Stolen Hearts. To find out more visit www.molly-okeefe.com

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Origami War by Toni J. Spencer Release and Giveaway! @ninestarpress @indigomarketingdesign #LGBTQIA+ #Fantasy

 

Title: Origami War

Author: Toni J. Spencer

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 07/19/2022

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 65900

Genre: Sci Fi, LGBTQIA+, YA, lesbian, pansexual, alternate universe, dystopian, dark, coming-of-age, hurt/comfort, sleepwalking, angst, family drama, graphic violence, martial law

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Haunted by her mother’s death, sixteen-year-old Penny sleepwalks by night. By day, she peddles bootleg vodka to rich kids looking for kicks on the wrong side of Brooklyn Bridge, a place reeling in total economic meltdown, strict curfew laws, and violent disarray.

Penny’s chance meeting with Quinn, a rabble-rouser dabbling in counterculture graffiti, sets in motion a deep love affair and the start of a seemingly impossible revolution. Inspired by a childhood memory, the two of them craft powerful messages hidden in the folds of hundreds of paper airplanes. They plan to launch them from the rooftops of derelict buildings even as the unforgiving militia hunts them from below.

Will hope take flight in a crumbling world, or will their efforts devastate them all?

Origami War

Toni J. Spencer © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
The streetlights that ran the length of Brooklyn Bridge had long since been defunct, and the nights had become so black even the city in the distance gave nothing away. A scattering of blocks in shadow, like a once-prized Lego set, accumulating dust atop the bookshelf. Occasionally, a spotlight broke from a cloud and ran the gauntlet of alleys and nooks before disappearing from whence it came.

Penny perched precariously on the edge of the bridge gazing across the bay, waiting for her mind to sway back into the present and catch her up on the events of the night. An inhale of breath, her own, sharp and cold, jump-started her brain. The brick in her hand, nuggety and rough, was tied in the middle with twine. Cheap and thin. She fingered it with shivering hands and followed its coil as it snaked around her leg and ended in a bow at the ankle.

The sleepwalking had been escalating in distance and danger over the last few weeks. Where she had once woken in the lobby of her apartment building, sleepy-eyed and drowsy, she now found herself miles from home with knives in hand and blood on her knees. Her present predicament, though, was a new and dark incarnation of her nightmares. To find herself harnessed to a ledge, with wobbly knees and the plight of a harrowing demise, chilled her to the bone. A blush of heat warmed her forehead, trickled down her cheeks, and spread like a fire in her belly. A tear rolled off the end of her nose, and regret overwhelmed her entire being.

She crouched, dropping the brick beside her. The knots, having been tied in a daze, were easy to untangle, and the pain in her fingers, riddled with cuts, was easy to ignore, given the circumstances.

Her breath broke the silence of the night and ushered in an orchestra of sounds that moments ago she had been unaware of. The waves lapped far below. A military chopper thundered in the distance. A footstep slapped the sidewalk. She sprang to her feet and scanned the walkway. Brick in hand. Weapon if necessary.

She heard the voice before she saw the person. Another footfall, a rush of breath.

“Hey,” said the shadow.

Penny jumped. Fear engaged.

The silhouette lifted its arms. “Don’t shoot; I’m harmless.”

Penny raised her brick as the shadow morphed into a human with a perfectly symmetrical face, framed by a mop of unruly hair. The girl was certainly not old enough to be a serial killer, possibly Penny’s age, maybe a year older. Seventeen, eighteen? Her face was kind, and the girl smiled in the darkness. Well, what passed for a smile in these times. How long had this girl been watching her; how much had she seen? Penny lowered her brick before spotting the shopping bag. Did the pretty girl have a severed head in there? She lifted the brick back up.

“You know it’s past curfew,” said the stranger. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“No kidding.” Penny stepped backward, toward Manhattan. Toward home.

“So, what’s with the brick?”

“Protection.” Penny thrust it in her direction, satisfied only when the girl flinched. Not a serial killer after all. She dropped the brick, all the way down.

“Can I have it?”

“No,” said Penny, stupidly possessive. “Get your own brick.”

“I’m not going to kill you with it. I promise.”

There was that smile again.

“What do you want it for?” asked Penny.

The girl lifted her bag and jiggled it. Metal on metal, the sound of a broken bell. “Got some evidence I need to dispose of.”

Penny raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing sinister. Take a look.” The girl tossed the bag at Penny who stepped out of the way so it crashed to the ground. “Nice catch.”

“Wow. A comedian.” Penny hoped the girl registered her sarcasm.

“See,” the girl said, pointing to the spray paint cans that littered the bridge walk. “Not a threat.”

Penny rolled a paint can beneath her shoe. Pink-colored paint. Nothing sinister. “So you’re a vandal, then?”

“Of sorts, although I prefer the term campaigner of freedom.”

“Ha, good luck with that.” Penny handed over the brick despite her obvious disapproval.

The girl crouched at Penny’s feet, shoving the cans back in the bag. She placed the brick on top, tied the package fast, and walked to the edge of the bridge. “So, you’re one of those ‘resistance is futile’ types, then?” she asked.

“I sure am,” Penny said, following her.

“Good luck with that.” The girl grinned as she dropped the bag into the gloom below. Penny shivered as it fell, heard the impact, felt its pain, and when she lifted her eyes, her close physical proximity to the girl surprised her. She should be more careful.

“So you’re just going to pollute the Hudson with empty paint cans?” said Penny.

“Not usually, but I went on quite the bender tonight. If I get busted with these things, it’s lights out for me.”

“That sounds a bit dramatic.”

The girl laughed and offered Penny the palm of her hand. “I’m Quinn.”

Penny hesitated. She was determined to impress upon this girl two things. One, that she had manners enough to not leave this stranger hanging, and two, despite those manners, she was a reluctant participant in this introduction and would protest by way of the limpest handshake known to mankind.

“I’m Penny,” she said, finally accepting Quinn’s handshake.

An unmistakable bolt of electricity shot through Penny’s fingers, and the world spun, just for moment.

“Penny like the coin?” said Quinn.

“Sure. I guess.”

Quinn shook Penny’s hand, apparently unaffected by both the dead-fish salutation and the obvious warmth that emanated from their joined fingers. “Well, Penny like the coin, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I guess,” Penny repeated. “Considering you’re not a serial killer, it’s nice to meet you too.”

Quinn laughed. An authentic, untainted-by-the-crap-of-the-world guffaw.

Something like peace settled inside Penny. A tingle. Was this happiness? It had been so long she couldn’t even remember how it felt.

“Shit.” Quinn shuffled backward, looking skyward. “You hear that?”

A rhythmic pulsing cut through the air, and Penny stiffened. A military chopper hovered somewhere beyond the fog. Stupid idiot. How had she been so careless? The peacemakers had no love for curfew breakers. If she and Quinn were caught, they’d be thrown into a displacement camp and processed for unruly behavior. Rumors of cruel and unusual punishments were rife in those places, the stuff of nightmares. The ripping off of fingernails, plucking out of eyes, scalping of heads. Yet the truth of it all was irrelevant. Gossip or not, Penny’s trick was simple enough—to not get caught and to never find out.

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Toni J Spencer is an avid daydreamer and eternal optimist. When she’s not encouraging her two children to jump on the couch, eat with their fingers, or understand the power of using swear words in context, she writes. Toni has several award-winning short stories under her belt, and once the procrastinating is done and dusted, plans to turn most of them into novels.


Despite calling New Zealand home, Toni considers herself a citizen of the world and dreams about the day when she can once again stuff her backpack full of short-shorts and furry jackets and head out in search of adventure and friends unmet.


Origami War is Toni’s first published novel and was mostly written in the witching hour during a serious bout of insomnia. She figures she’ll have plenty of time to sleep when she is dead.

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