The night Quinn Robbins nearly ran over a strange boy with her car, she didn’t know that a simple almost-accident could change the way she sees everything.
She didn’t know that curiosity could be so all-consuming that it would even follow her into her dreams.
And she didn’t know that hiding in her town is a passage to an entirely different world, where she might just discover her
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Short author bio:
Breeana Puttroff has loved making up stories since she could talk. For many years, her biggest audience for those stories was the fantastic students she had the privilege of teaching.
One summer afternoon, while she was picnicking in the beautiful mountains of her Colorado home with her little girl, she saw an old, broken stone bridge, and she just knew there was a story inside. Six months later, the Dusk Gate Chronicles was born.
These days, she runs a small business and writes from home while planning math lessons, digging caterpillars out of garbage disposals (oops!), discovering how to make new colors out of crayons melted in the dryer, and drinking lots of coffee (and occasionally tea).
She loves it when readers connect with her on Facebook or Twitter, especially if they have new recipes for disastrously good times with kids.
Breeana holds a B.A. in English from the University of Northern Colorado, and an M.Ed. in Curriculum and Instruction and Literacy from Lesley University in Cambridge, MA.
You can learn more, and connect with other readers of The Dusk Gate Chronicles by visiting http://www.facebook.com/DuskGate
Follow Breeana on Twitter: @bputtroff
Visit the website: www.duskgate.com
Or, sign up for the newsletter to be the first to hear exclusive news, upcoming releases, character interviews, short stories, and more. Newsletter subscribers also have chances at fun prizes and Dusk Gate swag. Sign up here: http://eepurl.com/qJkq9
And visit Breeana on her website www.breeanaputtroff.net
Excerpt One (Short)
When she got to the driver’s side of the car, her heart nearly stopped. The person kneeling outside the car was him. The boy she’d almost run over. And now she knew who he was. William Rose.
He was a senior at Bristlecone High School, a year older than she was. He must have been really running to get here before her. He was bent over the car’s driver, doing something. He’d pushed the seat back, getting the man away from the deployed airbag.
“Did you call 911?” she asked.
William stood up so quickly that he bumped his head on the door frame. When he looked up at her, she got the distinct impression that he wasn’t pleased to see her. “No I didn’t. I don’t have a phone.”
He didn’t have a phone? What senior in high school didn’t have a phone with him at all times?
“Doesn’t he? Somewhere in the car?”
“I don’t know, Quinn. I was too busy trying to keep him from bleeding out to look yet.”
As he spoke, he had already knelt back down in front of the driver, and now she could see that he was pressing a large piece of gauze just above the driver’s barely open eye. It was already soaked with blood. If the man was conscious, it wasn’t by much. A huge gash ran the length of his left arm, too, and blood dripped in little rivulets down past his wrist and to his fingers.
A little queasy, she pulled her own phone out of her pocket and dialed 911. Quinn. He’d called her Quinn. She was standing here on the side of the road with an almost-unconscious tourist, and the thing that shocked her most was that William Rose knew her name.
Excerpt Two (Long)
Fully feeling the weight of her stupidity, she climbed the four crumbling stone steps, toward the end of the broken-off bridge. This time, she did not hold back or hesitate. She closed her eyes and stepped forward. Expecting only a loss of balance and the resulting short drop into the cold water below, she was surprised when it didn’t come. There was solid stone underneath her right foot. Maybe she had missed. When a second attempt with her left foot also failed to produce an icy-cold plunge into the stream, she opened her eyes.
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