Saturday, February 18, 2017

Wowzers! What a hiatus!



I can't believe it's been two, almost three years since the last time I've posted anything. I am surprised that it has been just about the same amount of time since my last release. I have to apologize to all of those that were and have been waiting for the follow up story within the Boardan High Series.
Since I've had fans of the series waiting all of this time for book three, I will release book three one week and the following week a novella will be released. My promise to the fans is not to disappear for such a long time. Thank you to each one of you who has patiently awaited the next book in the series.

Book Three:
Manipulating Justin Mead
Releasing March 21st


 I am a leader.
Some would say that I was chosen. Others would say that my place was appointed “by design.” It’s as if I have some natural born leadership ability. At least that’s my interpretation of what they are saying.
I didn’t set out to be a leader. I would have been just as happy not being the center of attention, the responsible one, the one that everyone looks to for guidance. Evidently, it’s an inevitable thing for me. I am conditioned to be the one in charge, the sounding board, the “fixer.” There are times when I am proud to be who they need me to be.
The times when I am not tend to be the hardest.
I am Julian Mead. I am seventeen. Today, I find myself in the worst trouble of my life. With all that has gone wrong in my life lately, it's a wonder anyone would ever want me to be leader of myself, less more a team of high school drama students.


Book Three.Five:
Kenisha's Kompass
Releasing March 28th



The Marauding Misfits Drama Team has been my world, my life and my sanctuary for three years. I’ve been there for so many things. I’ve seen them through so much. Family. Hmm. It’s a word that was given new meaning when we all came together. It has a different meaning now that I can no longer be a part of that group. The weight that I now carry; the pain, the heartache and the bitter hatred is too much. I look at my flushed complexion in the mirror with once joy-filled now turned bloodshot eyes and know that she can’t be on that “team” any longer. I know that once I turn in the gear that I’ve accumulated over the years Tina, Julian and countless others will want explanations. Just when I thought I might get a little taste of the happiness I saw with my own … my own … parents. I can’t even think of them now.
It’s too much.
I am Kenisha Little. I know a loss that none of them know. At this time, it's time for me to let them go. Every. Last. Member.
I can't be part of something that reminds me of the one I can never get back, even if it's at the expense of my heart.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

It's Review Time and I'm sooo nervous!

Justice for Jenna


I'm being reviewed.  I am biting my nails and drumming my fingers in anticipation of the reviews.  I didn't know that I had the capacity to be deathly afraid and insanely ecstatic all at once.  I am.  I so am.  I cannot believe how many people have stated that they enjoy my work already.  I am waiting, waiting, waiting to see what others think.  This is going to be a long week.  

Here is the book synopsis:

I’ve been a b****. I know this. It’s not something that I’m particularly proud of and it’s not something that I had intended to stop being. At least, I hadn’t until recently. I got what older people call “a taste of my own medicine.” I don’t think I deserved that taste. I have lived through a disgustingly dirty sea of pain and horror. I wanted others to feel that pain, know that fear. People would understand better if they knew my story. Sable probably wouldn’t care after everything that I did to her, everything I put her through. I wish I would’ve had the courage to let her know what was going on, instead of being the coward I was and giving her a glimpse of my pain.

I am Jenna Nielson Turner. I am the daughter of an abusive, alcoholic mother and the product of a sexual assault or so I’m told. If that wasn’t enough, add to it one of the members of the faculty here at Boardan High School believes I am to be his personal love slave until I graduate. So, yeah, I’m a b****, but I have some pretty good reasons to be. Being that person helps me cope with the hell that is my world, not just my d*** life.

Is it possible for one that has this as the introduction to their "Who am I?" essay to be open to love and be loved? Will she be able to except what is necessary for her to change? Or will she allow the surprises that come into her pathway to be the needed excuse to be just who she describes?


Purchase/Review Links:
Goodreads:

Amazon:


Tour Date Sign-Ups:

October 6:
Kitty Grimm

October 10:
Breezy Book Blog (Breigh Forstner)
Kylie's Fiction Addiction (Kylie Frankel)
Sarah's Book Shelf (Sarah Stull)
Justine Gauckler

October 14:
Ella Gram

October 15:
Samantha Sutherland
The Book Fairy's Review (Lissette)

October 16:
A Closet Full of Books (Samaris Creech)

October 17:
Willow's Author Love (Nicole Dunton)
Jessica Cassidy
Shelly's Books (Shelly Thomas)

I am ever so grateful to each and every one of the people that has taken the time to read and review my work. You are truly appreciated for your time and support.

Thank you so much,
Isa*

The teasers:




Also available: Singling Out Sable for $.99


Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Lovey's Favorites: Justice For Jenna by Isabella Rose Norton

Lovey's Favorites: Justice For Jenna by Isabella Rose Norton: Synopsis: I’ve been a b****. I know this. It’s not something that I’m particularly proud of and it’s not something that I had intended to...

Thursday, September 11, 2014

My first ever Release day Blitz!

rbjfj

Synopsis: I’ve been a b****. I know this. It’s not something that I’m particularly proud of and it’s not something that I had intended to stop being. At least, I hadn’t until recently. I got what older people call “a taste of my own medicine.” I don’t think I deserved that taste. I have lived through a disgustingly dirty sea of pain and horror. I wanted others to feel that pain, know that fear. People would understand better if they knew my story. Sable probably wouldn’t care after everything that I did to her, everything I put her through. I wish I would’ve had the courage to let her know what was going on, instead of being the coward I was and giving her a glimpse of my pain. I am Jenna Nielson Turner. I am the daughter of an abusive, alcoholic mother and the product of a sexual assault or so I’m told. If that wasn’t enough, add to it one of the members of the faculty here at Boardan High School believes I am to be his personal love slave until I graduate. So, yeah, I’m a b****, but I have some pretty good reasons to be. Being that person helps me cope with the hell that is my world, not just my d*** life. 
Is it possible for one that has this as the introduction to their "Who am I?" essay to be open to love and be loved? Will she be able to except what is necessary for her to change? Or will she allow the surprises that come into her pathway to be the needed excuse to be just who she describes?



justice for Jenna

Amazon-Buy-Button2
jfj1

Available now for $.99: Book 1

                                                  Amazon                     Barnes and Noble
What Beta readers said about Book 1: Singling Out Sable:
"Just finished reading, could not put it down. It was awesome.  Loved it, So glad Sable finally got what she deserved in the end: a family with lots of love and friends.   Would love more."

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Justice for Jenna...the first chapter (Ready, set, go)

Justice for Jenna has been a major undertaking for me.  I knew that I wanted to write the second book with the antagonist or "the one everyone hates" from the first book as the main character.  I always knew that Jenna's story was going to take me to a different place.  It was one that I knew where it was going before I even knew what Sable's story was going to be.

Here are a couple teasers and the first chapter of the book:


Chapter 1 – My Truth
I've been a bitch.  I know this.  It's not something that I'm particularly proud of and it's not something that I had intended to stop being. At least, I hadn't until recently.  I got what older people call "a taste of my own medicine." I don't think I deserved that taste.  I have lived through a disgustingly dirty sea of pain and horror.  I wanted others to feel that pain, know that fear. People would understand better if they knew my story.  Sable probably wouldn't care after everything that I did to her, everything I put her through.  I wish I would've had the courage to let her know what was going on, instead of being the coward I was and giving her a glimpse of my pain.
I am Jenna Nielson Turner.  I am the daughter of an abusive, alcoholic mother and the product of a sexual assault by my father or so I'm told.  If that wasn't enough, add to it one of the members of the faculty here at Boardan High School believes I am to be his personal love slave until I graduate.  So, yeah, I'm a bitch, but I have some pretty good reasons to be.  Being that person helps me cope with the hell that is my world, not just my damn life. 
I wasn’t always this way.  There are moments in my life that I can look back on that I was different, moments when I was considered a good girl.  They are few and far between now.  My cousin Sable has been on the receiving end of my anger for a few reasons.  First, she was the closest individual to me when I first discovered the worst, or at least what I believed was the worst, part of my life.  I believe that I am over finding out my father had taken something from my mother that she hadn’t felt ready to give to him.  The complete ass…inine idiot that he is and was, he believed that she was the Turner that she wanted to be with.  I never knew that an older brother could be in the shadow of a younger brother.  My Uncle Nathan has always had this larger than life persona from what I have been told. If you met him then you would see that there is truth in that statement, even now. Donothan Turner Jr. didn’t have what it took to be the charismatic leader of Turner Industries. Yet and still, D. J. was given the reigns because Nathaniel Turner didn’t want to just follow in his father’s footsteps, he wanted to take the world by storm and pave his own way.  I can’t fault the man for that.
The second reason Sable has been on the receiving end of my frustration is solely lying at the foot of my mother.  My mother’s ability to see the world through her own, special rose colored glasses has done nothing but cause our family a world of hurt.  I have learned that my mother wouldn’t know the truth if it came up bit her on the nose and told her its name.  Yeah, it was that serious.  The sad thing is the fact that I have just learned this little tidbit of information.  I would’ve done so many things different had I know.  Oh well, hindsight and all that.  Back to the second reason my mother is to blame for part of my behavior toward Sable. 
I was told repeatedly, over the years, that the life we led wasn’t to be our lives.  We were the ones that were supposed to be part of Nathaniel Turner’s life.  All that Sable and her mother had was supposed to be ours.  My mother convinced me that she was supposed to be Nathaniel’s better half and a certain conniving twit took it from her by sending Donothan my mother’s way.  Sable’s mother was my mother’s best friend at the time.  They went to high school, then college together.  My mother who was Nicole Green during those years was head over heels for “Sexy” Nate Turner.  Marguerite knew all about her feelings for Nate.  My mother was a stupidly shy and trusting teenager.  She thought her best friend would look out for her.  She didn’t know what a conniving slut Marguerite could be.  Margie told Nic that she would talk to him for her and see if he was interested in her.  She talked to him all right.  Margie “talked” to him all night.  By the time my mother knew what was going on, her former friend had staked her claim and Nicole was left reeling from the betrayal of it all.
A few days later, Marguerite told my mother that she still had a chance with Nathan.  She swore that they do anything “important” with each other.  It was said there was some touching, but that was all.  Arrangements were said to have been made.  My mother was to meet him in the dorm room that he shared with his brother and a couple of frat guys.  She arrived all set to go on her “big date” and got more than she expected.  The room was dark, no one responded when she called out.  As she turned to leave, a pair of hands grabbed hold to her and spun her around so she was face to dark covered face with someone.  They shared a kiss and things led to a point that she said she hadn’t been comfortable with yet hadn’t done much to stop it.  When things were all said and done, she gathered her clothes and left.  She didn’t tell anyone anything about that night. 
It wasn’t until later, a few months later that she got up the courage to ask Nathaniel about that night.  He told her he didn’t know what she was talking about.  Donny later came up to her and admitted that it was him and told her that he liked her.  He said that he was confused about why she went to his brother to tell him she was having a baby.  The first of many lies easily slipped from her lips then.  She told him that she thought he should know and she must’ve been confused.  Marguerite later told my mother that she set things up that way.  She told my mother that Donny was the one that she needed to be with and not Nate.  Nate needed someone worthy of him. 
The woman or should I say witch was and still is horrible.   From what I understand, she has done everything possible to make sure she held on to the Turner name and all that came with it.  I will never understand how a woman can give birth to any child then use them as leverage to gain the affections or attention of a man.  I may be a lot of thing, but I would hope that I would never be that person.  Sable’s mother should never have been given eggs to create life.  When she did give birth, her children should have immediately been taken away.  No child should ever have to deal with Marguerite Fremont.
I’m getting ahead of myself and telling things that came later alongside what happened in the past.  My Uncle wasn’t aware that there was ever an issue between the two women. Knowing that, I can’t hate him for it. So, my mother was betrayed, lied to and “raped” as she put it.  She screamed it at me once. 
“You were a product of that man raping me, Jenna.  I don’t know how I was supposed to be more than I was with you.  I tried my best.  I’m sorry, honey.  Mommy’s so sorry.”
She curled in on herself and cried.  My “father” and I left her there to sleep it off.  We were both disgusted, but for different reasons.  He was disgusted because he felt like she had such promise as a “Turner woman” and she just “pissed it all away” on booze and whatever else she tended to take.  I was disgusted because this woman that wore the same clothes for several days at a time and woke up with a bottle in hand was supposed to be my role model. 
I used to wish when I was younger that my mother would leave it alone.  I wished she would stop taking the pills that didn’t make her happier, but seemed to make her sadder.   I thought that if I hid her “grown up juice” then she wouldn’t have anymore to drink.  It didn’t work that way I would later learn.  She just found a way to get to the store and get some more if the bar wasn’t stocked.  I even thought once if I had a sister like Sable, then that child would make her happy.  If she was happy, then she didn’t need the juice or the pills.  My father told me that there was no way that I would ever have a sister or brother, not as long as she was the mother.  I didn’t really understand that.  I was six.  I did understand that my “daddy” didn’t really like my mother.  I was angry with him for a long time because I blamed him for her actions. 
Learning the truth of what happened from an intoxicated woman doesn’t allow you time to really process anything.  It also doesn’t give you any way to pull more information out of them.  Dealing with a alcoholic is one thing.  Trying to get them to have a complete and coherent conversation when they are in one of their drunken stupors was pretty much impossible.  So, I didn’t have the full story until much later.
If that didn’t just knock your socks off, then what I found out next might just do it.  A few years back I was walking by my “father’s” office and overheard his conversation with his lawyer.  It sounded as if he was changing his will.  I thought that was rather odd, so I listened a little bit harder.  I’ve become quite a pro at ear hustling.  He was telling Mr. McMillan to have his will reflect state clearly that he didn’t have any children.  He did want it know that he would leave a portion of his fortune to his niece, then spoke my name.  As quietly as I could, I crept away from the door that day.  I couldn’t believe it.  It didn’t take me long to put two and two together.  He’d called me his niece which meant that at some point in time my mother had been with my Uncle Nathan.  I tried to confront my mother about it so many times that I finally decided to say I was done and I didn’t want to have anything to do with either one of them. 
I watched many days as Sable interacted with her mother over the years and everything seemed to be so wonderful with them.  I guess all of the Turners know what it means to show people one face and really have another.  I hated the family that I’d been born into.  I really hated the fact that Sable looked to have this beautiful, cushy life while I suffered.  I wanted her to know what it meant to suffer.  I wanted her to feel my pain.  In the end, I just ended up with more piled on to what I already had. 
I’m home now, sitting in the room that they gave me.  I don’t know why I sit in here most of the time that I do.  They don’t know this, but I don’t live here.  I guess that’s why I’m here now.  I periodically sit in this room and listen to some tunes as I’ve heard Carson call it.  Being around that crew of maddening maniacs has done something to me.  I won’t admit that it might be for the better to anyone other than myself.  I sit here and move things around from time to time so it looks like I’ve been here.  I found my first mp3 player as I was shifting some things around and found some of older music from artist like Pink, Evanescence, Avril Lavigne and Green Day.  I didn’t even know that I had some of Paramore’s music on my original player.  I was performing the task of moving the music from the old player to my iPad.  I don’t go anywhere without that thing.  Thinking about all of my family mess and Sable’s mother’s part in it all had me taking to music and my paints. 
Pink’s Slut Like You played loudly through my Monster headphones and I felt the overwhelming urge to type a message that I hoped would reach Sable’s mother.  After thinking about what I wanted to do and the stupid agreement that I’d decided to be part of, I decided against it.  Emily Osment’s Drift began to play on my headphones.  I forgot how much I loved that song.  It’s a simple song, but beautiful and one that says just what I feel on most days.

I am
Well suited for erasing
Fading into hazy
I'm sinking strong

I have lived a very interesting life.  One would think, since I’m only sixteen years old all that I’ve already shared would be more than enough to be my story.  Yeah, the person that thought that would be so far wrong they wouldn’t ever be able to see right.  My story started the day I was picked up by the police right outside my school.  That was one of the best days of my life.
Technically, I wasn’t arrested.  I was just put into the back of a police car and fingerprinted once I was at the station with Officer Russell.  I never would have thought that the actions I took against some of the students at the school would ever land me down at county.  At most, I figured I might get kicked out of school for a few days, which I would have welcomed.  It turns out if you have enough people threatened or beaten up and their parents get involved, then possible charges could be brought against you.  Fortunately for me, my last name and my personal…situation got me a different sentence. 
I had so much I was already dealing with since I have the parents that I have and the situation with the idiot teacher.  I didn’t think I needed anything added on to that.  It appeared I was wrong.  I didn’t even get to celebrate the fact that evil trick was no longer assistant principal at the school.  Kelly had just told me the good news while popping that nasty watermelon Bubble Yum gum and pulling a comb through her short, layered cut hair.  Her oval eyes had widened when she received a text from Stacie.  I saw her pic pop up on the screen next to the message that said the coppers were there.  I shook my head.  How I chose such a crew as my friends, I didn’t even know.  Stacie’s new thing, at the time, was watching old detective movies and shoes.  In doing so, she tended to use words like “coppers” and dames.”  It was annoying.
At the time, I thought maybe they cops were for the assistant principal.  Our group’s gossip had always been Marcie.  Her shoulder length honey blonde hair, weave, swayed as she animatedly shared whatever information she was able to hear in passing.  She’d just returned to the classroom and informed us that Mr. and Mrs. Tucker had been removed from the premises by force.  They had been escorted to their offices and the areas were searched.  What they found exactly, no one really knows, but it was enough to have them arrested.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  I was going to get a little bit of time to actually enjoy school.  At least, I would be able to enjoy the parts that I loved about school. 
My victory was short-lived because my name was called over the overhead speakers a few moments later.  Stacie’s and Marcie’s eyes widened as they looked at each other, then back to me.  Kelly mouthed “what did you do” to me just before Mr. Wilkins asked me to come up and get a hall pass to head to the office.  When I left the classroom, I was met with an escort.  The man was tall, bald and very Men in Blackesque.  We silently walked to the office and I felt as if I were being led to the electric chair. 
We made it to the office and I was silently handed off to the new acting principal.  I didn’t spend a great deal of time there. They had evidence against me and Shelby turned on me to save herself.  I would’ve expected the one to spill her guts to be Kodaira Chu.  She is friends with Sable after having hung out with us for as long as I remember.  Imagine my surprise when I was met with a couple of the students that were “harassed” or “attacked” (the acting principal’s words, not mine) and Shelby Donner. She has the “girl next door” look that Scarlett Johansson has, but wears her hair the color of that Hayley chick from Paramore.  She always has her strawberry blonde hair dyed pink.  We’d known each other since grade school.  That little whore bag wouldn’t even be a junior if I hadn’t carried her.  Good luck to her now.  I will be completely stunned if that cow actually makes it through this year.  If she becomes a senior, then the world will come to an end or she slept with someone to get her through it. 
I spent the next hour with the officers at the station.  I was escorted, once again, to my home by way of a police car.  When a counselor, a Children and Family Services Division rep and the police officer met my parents at the house, all hell broke loose then. My mother screamed about being set up.  Of course, she smelled like she’d slept on the inside of one of her liquor bottles.  My father was outraged that a member of the Turner family was being “unduly harassed by law enforcement.” Officer Jordyn, a very pretty, young African American woman with kind eyes rolled those eyes just as I did the same.
 After a few moments and some sound advice from Mr. McMillan, they both calmed down and went peacefully with the officers.  My mother and “father” had been requested to go to the precinct to answer questions.  They were most likely going to be there for the rest of the night.  The police had a lot of questions about why I did what I did to those girls and some guys.  The question they kept asking me was where were my parents while I was out terrorizing students at my school.  I just shrugged my shoulders.  It was all I could offer.  I have never been so scared in my life.  They took me and all that I hold dear to the detention center.  I was allowed to have a special room…I couldn’t be in a room with another person.  If I’d been placed with another, then their night would have been miserable.  I think I spent most of that night listening to Torn to Pieces by Pop Evil. 
The next morning I made sure I left nothing behind and all I needed to have taken care of was taken care of.  I met my parents at the courthouse.  If someone had told me that I would be charged with assault of a minor and defacing school property, then I would’ve said “not in this lifetime.”  Sitting in the courtroom waiting for my case to be called was one of my least favorite things that I’ve ever had to deal with.  I sat back and listened as one after another of the cases was called.  Finally, I was called forth. 
The judge wasted no time reviewing the documents.  It was almost as if he glanced at them while we stood there just so we’d know he had them.  Whatever he saw, he didn’t like.  The stern look on his face told me that he’d made up his mind on the nature of my character and he found me lacking.  I listened as he listed the charges, then sat back and steepled his fingers. His words were clear and concise when he stated what his judgment was to be. 
“Miss Jenna Turner, the court has determined that due to your current circumstances, you will not be remanded to the juvenile detention center as is the recommendation from the prosecution.  You will, however, log one thousand hours of community service at Our House Shelter and Community Center.  You will meet with a counselor, weekly and write an apology letter to each individual that you have caused to be hurt or harmed with your actions. You will have twenty hours weekly that will need to be logged.  You case will be reevaluated after the first six weeks have been completed.   Case closed.  I’ll hear nothing further on this matter and no, I will not see either counsel in my chambers.”
That was it.  With those words, my fate was sealed and I was cast away to the wolves that would forever torment then torture me before making a meal of my remains.  Why was I the chosen target?  There were those that had it out for me, I know.  I may have deserved some of this, but I wasn’t alone in my actions.  Why was I the only one set to be punished? 
I had the rest of the week to get my thoughts together before my community service was to begin.  My parents said nothing.  They didn’t say anything while we were in court, not on the way home and not in the week since then.  I’ve waited to be yelled at.  I waited for someone to scream, but nothing.  They went about their daily tasks as if nothing ever happened.  Every day, I cautiously make my way to their kitchen and pick up the money for my daily allowance.  I call it my “:keep quiet” money.  “Go, live your life, just don’t let it interfere in ours.”  Not once have they said a word.  Our paths have crossed, but nothing.
I often wonder and want to ask God just how it is possible that I got saddled with the two of them as the two that were going to mold me into the woman that I was supposed to become.  I am who I am despite the two of them.  When I was asked if my parents would be disappointed in my behavior, I just shook my head and told the two officers the truth.  I honestly believed that they didn’t care and wouldn’t until I did something to defame the family name.  That statement got me looks of sympathy.  I didn’t say it to get that and I didn’t really want it.  I’d turned my attention to the obvious camera in the room and awaited the next question. 
Now, I was sitting in my bedroom on the floor, painting.  My parents talked to me, but not about my “crimes” or punishment.  They went about doing whatever it was they did during the day and I went to school, then work afterwards.  Not one soul at school has a clue that I have an afterschool job.  I already let my supervisors know that I have to change my schedule.  The manager of the little eatery is very understanding about so much when it came to me and my life.  The owners know everything that they need to know and then some about me.  We agreed that I would work two to three days out of the week and every other weekend, as needed. I work as a hostess for Beats and Eats CafĂ©.  It’s something that I decided to do so that I can take care of all that I need to.  There are certain things that I have to purchase for myself that I can’t go to my parents for.  It will raise too many questions.
Some days it’s just easier to sit here and enjoy the very rare silence of the house I share with my mother and the man they call my father.  I’ve spent years pretending that I didn’t hate the jerk that has shared with others his feelings on what he believes is the truth.  I’ve spent the better part of that time trying to determine if there was a way that I could completely relieve myself of his genes.  He barks regularly about his being my uncle and not my father. Evanescence’s Good Enough begins to play in my ears and I allow the words to wash over me.  I wasn’t going to get upset about the old crap.  It shouldn’t hurt that he is what he is and the way he is when it comes to me.  It shouldn’t, but it does. 
I blame him for the messed up family dynamic that we have.  I blame him for the pain that I feel whenever he is the room.  I blame him for my mother making that bottle of whatever liquor of the month it is her best friend and companion.  I blame him for my not being able to find happiness in much of anything.  I definitely blame him for that ass…muncher that is Mr. Tucker having the ability to be in my life. 
There are certain things that I wouldn’t change about my life or my personality, but that man being part of it would definitely be a “must get rid of” if I had three wishes.  I didn’t and don’t.  So, I sit and wait or bide my time until I am free to exit this space and not have to be questioned on why I’m doing what I’m doing.  It doesn’t usually take long.  If they believe that I am doing homework or prepping for a cheer event, then they won’t bother me at all.  In the background is some upbeat, perfect for cheering music.  I check my watch and figure it is a good time to turn it off.  I’ve been pretending long enough for them to have no interest in trying to get me to talk to them now.  Another night with a reprieve from the parents attempt to own up to their given title.  I turn the music to a slightly lower volume then pack up my paints and other materials.  It’s a quarter to five and I am able to slip out undetected.  Being completely free of them would be too much to ask.  I look back to make sure that my mother isn’t secretly watching my exit.  If she is, then she usually calls me back at the very last second to play twenty questions from the drunk to the sober; me being the sober one in this equation.  When the coast is clear I practically run full force to my own, little piece of heaven.  I am at a complete Zen place when I cross the threshold.  It is a sad, sad day when the little apartment above the garage is more of a sanctuary than the house that your parents’ home. 
Another day, I made it another day without a Nicole or Donothan incident.  I’m home, finally.  It’s the only place that makes me feel safe.  Until tomorrow, I will enjoy what it is that I’ve set up here.  Tomorrow will bring whatever it is going to bring.  Today is the beginning of my next step.  Whether that step takes me to a better me or not is something I will soon find out.   

Thank you for taking the time to read the first chapter of my upcoming release.  

Here is the purchase link for it: http://amzn.com/B00MS3WU2S 

Isa*  

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Teasers, links and more...from Isa*

Hello all,

Thank you to those that have taken the time to follow my blog and read my posts.  i love all those that have taken the time to read one of my books.  You are happily received.  I have the privilege of sharing some fantastic creations from the minds of my newly created street team.  The following are the teasers for the book.

Teaser Alert 







Singling Out Sable:
Available for pre-order: Justice for Jenna, Book 2
http://amzn.com/B00MS3WU2S


I also have a giveaway going and would like to open it up to any young adult authors that are interested in offering a prize to the participants:https://www.facebook.com/authorisabellarosenorton?sk=app_228910107186452

Please feel free to share! 

Thank you for your time and for reading.  Enjoy reading a good book.

Isa*

Monday, August 11, 2014

My First Giveaway

I am pretty excited about this.  I don't know how it is going to work out but I look forward to the end result.  I am offering a gift card and two signed copies of my books.  Here is the link to the giveaway.  I can't believe that I'm an author.

http://tinyurl.com/kybo4lp

I love giveaways and I'm excited to give these gifts to a lucky winner.

Enjoy your reads.

Isa*