My new middle grade adventure novel will be released in early October! Above is the new front and back covers created by a graphic artist on Fiverr.com.
Sneak peek:
Chapter
1
Temper
Tantrum
The moment after I
smashed my violin over my teacher’s head I knew I was in big trouble. I was ten
and told I behaved like a wildcat when provoked. And Miss Penelope had provoked
me. She began my grueling lesson late and in a foul mood. It continued with
constant disapproval.
“No,
no, no, Georgie,” shouted my petite but ruthless teacher over the squeaking of
the violin. “The E string is all wrong! Do it again.”
On
that sweltering day in May, 1897, the open windows did little to cool the music
room even if a rare breeze came along. I pushed my long, damp curls away from
my eyes and proceeded to play the music piece again. It was a difficult one
because all five of my fingers had to be on the strings at the same time and
they ached, especially my pinkie. I had been taking violin lessons for more
than two years. It was still torture for me to play as well as torture to
listen to the horrid noise I made.
“Again,
Georgie. And again and again, until you get that E-string right. Now
concentrate.”
Miss
Penelope’s face was getting apple red which matched her apple-shaped body. I
didn’t like her after the first lesson, and I could tell she didn’t like me.
But we had no choice, so we were stuck together in the music room three times a
week.
I sighed as I stood with
my child-size instrument resting on my shoulder. I glanced at the grandfather
clock across the room. My lesson was almost over. I was looking forward to my
afternoon ritual of visiting my secret swimming hole with my pony, Prince.
Because
I was not concentrating on the music, the violin screeched even louder than
before. Miss Penelope shocked me with a harsh rap on my knuckles with a ruler
she had hidden in the folds of her long skirt. It really stung but the smug
look on her face hurt me more, like she had enjoyed smacking me.
It
was enough to let my firecracker temper loose. In an outburst of rage, I
grabbed my violin by the neck and shattered the expensive instrument over my
teacher’s head.
“That
does it,” shrieked Miss Penelope. “I’m through, you little wildcat!”
Within
a couple of weeks, I found myself shipped on a train to places unknown. I knew
that Grandpa did not want to be proven wrong about his theories on child
rearing. There were plenty of other children in the orphanage that he could
experiment with his philosophies.
