Book Blitz: SCHISM by Laura Maisano


SCHISM (Illirin Book One)

By Laura Maisano

 Art therapy hasn’t done squat for Gabe Jones. A thousand sketches of his fiancée can’t bring his memory, or her, back to him. Nothing on Earth can. His past lies in another dimension, a world just out of sight.

Another student on campus, Lea Huckley, unknowingly shares Gabe’s obsession with the fourth dimension. The monsters from the other side attacked her parents and fled, getting her folks locked up in the loony bin. Proving this other world exists is the only way to free them. Lea and Gabe strike a deal to help each other, and together they manage to open a door to the world of Gabe’s true origin. She’d use him for proof—if she didn’t already care too much.

While Gabe tries to reconcile his feelings for Lea and his rediscovered memories of his fiancée, a much more sinister plot unravels. He uncovers his history just in time to become the unwilling lynchpin in a conspiracy to start a war. His memory holds the secret to the final riddle the would-be conqueror needs to get the upper hand. Gabe must protect the riddle at all costs, even if that means leaving Earth, and Lea, behind forever.

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Lea packed light. Other than her phone’s GPS and a flashlight, she kept a small notepad, her lucky pencil, and the thermometer in her cargo pocket. She didn’t need to find data, now she needed proof.

She led the way down the alley where skyscrapers blocked the glowing moon and the lamps from the highway. Yellowed fixtures above each back entrance threw faint cones of light onto the cement, like holes in Swiss cheese.

Lea checked the coordinates on her phone while she walked, and the little red arrow crept closer to the flag icon she placed to mark the interaction point.

Gabe spent his time surveying the area for anything that might be a danger. He kept fidgeting behind her and turning around every few seconds, a twitchy meerkat on patrol.

“We’re only between buildings. It’s not the end of the world.” Lea checked her phone again to make sure they were headed in the right direction.

He glanced over his shoulder. “I still don’t like it. It’s night, people do get mugged, you know.”

“The statistics of that are so low. We’re really not in any danger, considering the population and how many times that sorta thing happens.”

He shifted uneasily behind her. “Whatever, we’re raising the chances by being out here at night.”

Lea rolled her eyes. “I’m not missing this opportunity.”

“I know that. Neither am I.”


They came to a cross section behind two major offices where the loading docks and dumpsters sat for both of them. A stream of water trickled down the concave cement into the large sewer grate. Old garbage left a fume hanging around, and the humidity only made it worse.

Lea double- and triple-checked her coordinates, cross-checking with her notes. “This is it. Within I’d say, a fifteen foot diameter, low to the ground.” She shoved the phone in her cargo pocket. “Perfect.”

“How long?”

“Roughly ten minutes.”

Ten minutes may as well have been six hours. She paced back and forth, her sneakers scuffing the gritty pavement.

Gabe continued to keep a watchful eye ou for muggers or vagrants. What a dork.

She snickered quietly. For someone who didn’t know his own experiences, he sure seemed paranoid. She watched him standing straight, darting his eyes to the entrance and even up to the windows above them. Watch out bad guys, Gabe’s on to you. She smiled and turned to see what looked like heat waves rising from the cold cement. Crap. The interaction had already started.

“Gabe…” She waved him over next to the loading dock.

This interaction provided no shining lights or obvious movement. Not much stood out visually, except maybe the air glistening like summer heat waves if she squinted hard enough, but her digital thermometer found the coldest point.

“Here,” she whispered, not wanting anyone or anything on the other side to hear. She stretched her arms forward, and Gabe did likewise.

“On the count of three.” She waited for him to nod. “One…two…three.”

They both reached through the interaction point and grabbed at the thicker air. Nothing. They tried again, pulling, grasping, and making any sort of motion to trigger a rip. Finally, Gabe leaned in and pulled out at just the right angle, because the light tore across like a jagged line. Lea grabbed the edge of it and tugged, opening the tear wider until they both fell through.


About the author 

 Laura has an MA in Technical writing and is a Senior Editor at Anaiah Press for their YA/NA Christian Fiction. Her debut novel is a YA urban fantasy called SCHISM. The sequel, UNITY, releases spring 2016.

Her gamer husband and amazing daughter give support and inspiration every day. Their cats, Talyn and Moya, provide entertainment through living room battles and phantom-dust-mote hunting. Somehow, they all manage to survive living in Texas where it is hotter than any human being should have to endure. Check out her blog at

Social Media


Twitter: @MaisanoLaura

Facebook:  (Fan group for the Illirin series)

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Friday Fictioneers: TAKE ME AS I AM

For this week’s story, I went a little beyond what’s seen to what might be seen, because I’m sure this little arrangement is just the tip of the outrageous iceberg.
PHOTO PROMPT - © Jean L. Hays

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jean L. Hays


Finn taps the steering wheel. “I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation.”

“Relax. Families are weird. I’ve got this uncle… And my mom. Every single boyfriend I’ve ever had, ‘Emily frenched her cousin…’ I was in kindergarten, Finn. Kin-der-garten!”

“You don’t get it, Em. My dad–”

“Your dad raced cars. Survived a hundred crashes or something… That’s cool, Finn, not weird.”

“It’s not the racing. It’s –”

“Pull over! I have to get a picture. What on earth is it? Are those license plate shingles?”

He lets out a slow breath. “It’s home, Emily. Dad built it himself.”

Friday Fictioneers (n): A world-wide community of writers addicted to writing 100 word stories based on a photo prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 

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The Break

Well, crap. It seems I wrote a poem of sorts. One of my friends, who much to my chagrin remembers the high school poetry phase I try to forget, will be happy to see a new work. The rest of you, well… we’ll see.

What began as something between amused and baffled reflections on not getting a whole lot accomplished while my kids are at camp turned into a more sentimental piece than I expected. The empty house is extremely nice, but there’s a part of me that looks forward to resuming our normal, chaotic routine – a routine that keeps me on my toes in every regard and fills my life with adventure, laughter, and hugs.


The Break

There’s a quiet that comes to a house

after everyone’s gone away,

and a mother realizes it isn’t the chaos

that keeps her bound-

that keeps undone the things she sees each day,

the things she’s meant to do since who knows when.

It isn’t the laughter, the shouts, the pranks, the fights.

It isn’t the snacks or the books or chores.

In the stillness of their absence

a mother waits.

No urgency.

No cues.

And the things undone seem minuscule

in the enormity of solitude.

Friday Fictioneers: Evanston + Olivia

Last week, I was busy editing and preparing for the cover reveal of my second book, HEIR OF KORADIN. If you missed the reveal (and first chapter sneak peek) please hop over to my last post for all the fun.PHOTO PROMPT - © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Evanston + Olivia

Evanston lies naked and flat-backed on the marble floor, oblivious to the guests breaking step to dance away from him. His arms – spindly and beautiful – flail to the music like he’s conducting the chandeliers.

He never finished school. “Too disruptive,” they said. They didn’t realize how disruptive their desks and lectures and uniforms were to him.

A circle opens around him. No matter how dear the friend, his antics always shock. He spreads his arms wide.

“Stay! You’re helping. I’m almost there!”

Someday, he’ll decode the mathematical equation of love. As our friends resume dancing, I gaze on Evanston and wonder why he needs the math.

Friday Fictioneers (n): A world-wide community of writers addicted to writing 100 word stories based on a photo prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 

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Cover and Teaser Reveal: Heir of Koradin

Originally posted on Anaiah Press:

It’s cover reveal time! We are so happy to present Heir of Koradin, Book 2 in the Chasmaria Series by Lisa Dunn. This sequel to Grit of Berth and Stone will be available on August 4th, 2015. Scroll down for an exclusive peek at the first chapter!

new stone

Heir of Koradin, The Second Book of Chasmaria

by Lisa Dunn

Surge, Anaiah Press

Dagger of Willow and Strike has waited a lifetime to return to the village of his birth. He’s been promised the throne of Koradin, but getting captured by his treacherous sire wasn’t part of the plan. Dagger needs a miracle to turn his childhood dreams into reality—And Grit of Berth and Stone might be that miracle.

Unfortunately for him, Grit’s stuck in the rival village of Thresh, and she’s in way over her head. Having bluffed her way into commanding an army of incompetents, she’s useless to Dagger if her new…

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Friday Fictioneers: BALL AND CHAIN



Ball and Chain
Avril stares at the open sea, fear in her soft green eyes. “You don’t get to decide this for me.”

We both know it’s a lie. I’ve decided everything since the day we met.

“I can’t swim.”

“I’ll tell you what to do.”

She purses her lips. I’m sure she’d curse me if it would do any good, but a curse is what got us here. I could kill the sea witch who did this to her.

“I’ll break it, I promise.” I wiggle my toes, the sand between them a distraction from the discomfort of Avril’s anger. “You have to trust me.”

She moves with me into the sea, and I wonder how I’ll die – breaking the curse or watching her walk away from her ball and chain.

Friday Fictioneers (n): A world-wide community of writers addicted to writing 100 word stories based on a photo prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 

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PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

That Thing We Never Talked About

I never wanted a dinosaur fish skeleton in my front yard. I would have gone for a welcome mat – red and turquoise flowers. Maybe a garden gnome.

I begged you to put it somewhere else, anywhere else, but you were so proud of the monstrosity. When you weren’t listening, I thanked God you’d forgotten about the leg lamp.

Somewhere around our 30th anniversary, I realized I’d named the thing. Never told you, of course. I couldn’t admit too much.

I grab a rusted flipper. My finger joints feel a little rusty themselves.

“It’s just you and me now, Edgar. You and me.”

For reference: THE LEG LAMP (On pain of a lamp shattered over your head, DO NOT share this link with my beloved husband!)

Friday Fictioneers (n): A world-wide community of writers addicted to writing 100 word stories based on a photo prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 

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