WOW, WHAT A RIDE. Giveaway TIME!!!! #giveaway #mustread

It has been nearly ten days since Plastic Confidence released. It has been so very well received. I am honored at what people are saying.

Plastic Confidence (1)

 

So today I am doing an audiobook giveaway for one of my previous books – in case anyone likes audio. I know I do!

Giveaway is here —–>   Post by Books by Alisa Mullen.

HERE ARE SOME REVIEWS of PLASTIC CONFIDENCE:

Plastic Confidence

Five Gorgeous Stars for Plastic Confidence #mustread #brilliant #oneclick

As a genre of books that I’d never read before (This whole new adult thing), I went into Plastic Confidence a little wary. I was lucky enough to be provided with a copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest review… and let me say that I am SO glad I won this copy!

I found this book completely thrilling, enthralling, captivating, and well written. I’m usually not one for self-publish books. This one was so wonderfully done however. The cover art is gorgeous, the inside format is wonderful… and honestly, it’s just amazing.

So… Are you ready to rock and roll?
Plastic Confidence by Alisa Mullen is NOW on Kindle Unlimited. Go read it for free in your account.
US -http://bit.ly/plasticconfidencemullen

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PLASTIC CONFIDENCE IS NOW LIVE. **MOST ANTICIPATED NOVEL OF THE MONTH**

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BOOK SUMMARY

What happens when the past rears its ugly head and messes with who you thought you were? Will it break down all your walls and set your whole world on fire?

Meet Julia Delaney, a.k.a Jules, the lead singer of Love Sick Ponies, sex superstar, and a heart full of rocks. She loves them and leaves them, a bad girl through and through.

That is until she meets Brennan Curtis, a fan boy, a wannabe friend, and the only one who can possibly tear Jules’ walls down.

When the plastic snaps wide open, Jules finds herself in a vulnerable and awkward situation with Brennan and her band.

Jules’ journey of self-discovery started at a young age and her self- image, which is engrained in her brain, might just be there for life. Desperate to alter how people view her, she realizes that she might never be able to escape the past.

Follow the past ghosts into the now for the emotional roller coaster ride you all expect from Alisa Mullen.

Fantasy. Two Women's Faces with Tracery Opposite each other. Reflexion

“OMGthis book is so good. I love Alisa’s books but this one is my favorite by far. I was on the edge of my seat.”

Indie Author Blog – Sandra Love, Author

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Reviews of Mullen’s Previous Work:

“Once again Mullen never ceases to amaze me.” – Evocative Book Reviews

“Mullen has a lot to answer for, in my opinion. She wrote these characters that sucked me in and then flipped everything I thought about them upside down.” – Give Me Books

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alisa Db3

Mullen is the author of Amazon’s best-selling books (in multiple categories) – The Chosen Series.

Mullen grew up in Maine and has lived in many cities across the US. She likes to travel but craves to travel to places in her mind. She combines life experience and imagination on paper. She has been a writer since she was eight years old and throughout schooling, she wrote poems and stories.
Mullen has a BA in English and an MS in Non Profit Management. Despite her need to help other less fortunate than her, nothing has ever felt more satisfying than writing. She published her first book “Unsettled” in February 2014. “Unchosen” and “Unrequited” were both released in May 2014. “Unmarked” – Book #4 will be written in 2015 and it will center around Sean, a secondary character in the series so far.

Mullen released a suspense novella, “One Missing Link” in May and her next novel is The Good Bye Trilogy’s “Plastic Confidence” (Book #1)due out in August 2014. “Artificial Love” and “Elastic Hope” are the 2nd and 3rd books in that trilogy.

In her rare off time, she enjoys laughing and goofing off with her husband and their two children.She loves the beach, Estate Sales, Blue Bonnet season, and macrame.

Mullen currently lives in South Texas and likes it there for now. Mullen owns a macramé necklace business, Devika Knots, which she started with her daughter in 2009 and it has become a great part of her life. Many times her whole family will go out to the markets to be around other artisans and farmers. She and her husband look forward to one day owning an RV and following their noses around the country year round

**SALE ALERT** & CHAPTER THREE OF PLASTIC CONFIDENCE

Please enjoy this sale alert before you start Chapter Three of Plastic Confidence. Release Date 8.18.14

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#Unrequited #AlisaMullen #99Pennies…GO #OneClick this #MustRead! #AmazonCart #1Adb #Cheapbooks

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#lastteaser guys before release day 8.18.14

THREE

 Itwas a week after Krysta had given me the OUIJA board and I had forgotten allabout it. Emmy, Angie, and I were outside on my lawn, within eye sight of mymother, playing Scrabble. I hated Scrabble. Our daily play dates were becomingso dull and we grasped on to whatever we could to keep our friendship alive. Wecouldn’t go biking. We couldn’t play in our fort in the forest behind Emmy’shouse. We couldn’t do anything fun.

Angieplaced the tiles down to make the word Donkey on the board after Emmy playedthe word Rocket. I threw my pieces up in the air and growled out infrustration. Stupid Scrabble. At theleast, I could have been winning but no. I was so done with being a boredtwelve year old. Mom looked up from the newspaper ten feet from us and gave mea disapproving look. It was actually the look she saved for when I was being atotal brat. I was getting that look a lot lately.

“JulesDelaney! Why are you acting like you are two years old?” Mom snapped at me. Thetwo other girls looked wide eyed as their eyes jumped from me to my mother andback. I started to cry and ran into the house, yelling that I hated my life.This was the worst summer ever. Not even the glorious time I had had at campcould make this summer a memorable one. I felt like a hostage. No, I was a hostage.

Ithrew my head into my pillow on my waterbed and sobbed. Minutes later, Emmy andAngie were standing against my bedroom wall, waiting for me to stop my cryingfit. I was embarrassed that I had ruined our game.

“I’msorry that I ruined the game,” I whispered, as I hiccupped in my post cryingfit. My friends were prisoners, too, but I seemed to be the only one taking itso hard.

Bothgirls climbed on top of me and we all hugged. I heard them muttering that theyhated this summer and they just wish that we could go play on our own for justone day. I nodded, as I sniffled, and tried to muster up a smile for them.

Theycould barely smile back and we all knew why. This was the worst summer in thehistory of all summers. Emmy got up and started eyeing everything in my roomwith fascination. I did have a cool room. I watched her go through my CDs andbooks. When she saw the OUIJA Board, she picked it up. As she turned the boxover and over again, she smiled broadly.

“Iplayed this once with my cousin in her back yard! It was so much fun! I beggedmy parents for one but Mom and Dad said it wasn’t a nice board game for thehouse,” she said. She was clearly excited. She could have the stupid thing ifshe really wanted it.

“Ohyeah? Krysta gave it to me. We played it about a week ago and it didn’t doanything,” I replied, noticing Angie peering over at the box with interest.

“Let’splay it now,” Emmy clapped her hands with glee. She giggled to herself as shestarted to open the box. I inwardly sighed. I didn’t want to play another boardgame. I officially despised them all. They were mind-numbing. Nevertheless,Emmy hardly came up with ideas when we played anything so Angie and I got onthe floor and waited for Emmy to set it up. When all of our hands were inplace, we peered at one another expectantly.

“Whatdo we do?” Angie inquired.

“Wesay hello and ask them who they are,” Emmy announced, nodding in determinationdown to the board. “So I will ask. Hello. This is Jules, Emmy, and Angie. Wewant to talk to you. Are you here?”

Emmyasked as she looked at the board with rapt attention.

Isighed and just watched Emmy and Angie. I loved my friends and I didn’t knowwhat I would do without them. They were keeping me together this summer. I hadnot even noticed that the pointer was moving. Emmy smiled and Angie lookedconfused. I looked down to see that the pointer was right over “Yes”.

“Hey!Did you guys move your fingers?” I chided, startling them both. The boardhadn’t moved a lick when Krysta and I had done it. Nothing. Now it was clearly on the word “Yes” and I yelped, alittle freaked out. I started to pull my fingers back.

“No,don’t,” Emmy admonished loudly. “Leave them on or they will leave.” Who wouldleave? What the hell was going on? My upper body started to shake which made myfingers a little shaky, too. I took a few calming breaths to make them stopmoving.

Ifirmly laid my four fingers back on the pointer, never losing the connection.Thank God I didn’t break the connection or whoever would have left. Wait, did Ibelieve this? I looked around to see if the other girls were as quizzical as Iwas. Was this thing actually real? Emmy looked amused and Angie was intrigued.I was scared and hoped I wouldn’t pee my pants.

“Who…are… you?” Angie asked very slowly, but her voice shook noticeably. A hugebubble of unease rose in my chest and I swallowed really hard. I watched ourfingers–looking to see if any of them were moving, even if unintentionally. Butwe were all still. We were hardly touching the plastic triangle as it flewacross the board with disjointed speed. G–R–A–C–E

Weall gasped. Angie’s eyes got so wide, she looked like a bug. A beetle. Emmydidn’t look so amused anymore.

“Youare Grace? You were just murdered!” I screamed at the board like it was goingto yell back at me. I started to sweat and I watched the two other girls’mouths drop open. Either they couldn’t believe that we were supposedly talkingto Grace or that I had screamed murder at the board. Either way, no one wassaying anything as we waited for a response. The pointer moved to “Yes”, movedaway, and went back to “Yes”. Yes, it was Gracie. Yes, she was murdered.

Emmycleared her throat and it looked like she couldn’t get her mouth to work. “Who…who killed you?” Emmy asked. We all watched the board with rapture. The pointerdidn’t move. Several seconds went by. Just as I was going to ask again, thepointer slowly moved. We watched it as it slowly went through the three letterword. It was going so slow, we were all holding our breaths for it to stop onone letter. When it did, we looked up to each other with horrified expressions.

D–A–D

Thepointer quickly zipped out of our hands and landed on “GOOD BYE”. I couldn’tbreathe. Tears were in Emmy’s eyes and Angie was shaking her head in disbelief.

“Herdad killed her?” Emmy asked softly.

Icouldn’t believe it. It was a dumb game and one of my friends had just punked me.Someone punked me and that pissed me off and made me feel a bit of relief. Ithrew my head back against the wall and exhaled in relief. I would make themplay again. I will watch them very carefully.

“It’snot real,” I stated firmly. I picked the board and the pointer up and threwthem in the box. I stuck it in my closet on the highest shelf. I turned aroundto see both girls looking at me like I should know what to do next.

“What?”I asked.

“Shouldn’twe tell someone?” Angie asked. Moments passed in silence.

That’swhen I knew. If Angie moved the pointer, she wouldn’t be asking me this. If itwas Emmy who moved it, she would be objecting to telling anyone. She was toonice to lie.

“Tellthem what? We played the OUIJA board and it said that Gracie’s dad killed her?”I asked incredulously.

Theyboth shrugged. I shook my head at them. Sometimes, my friends were clueless.

“Tellyou what,” I started. “Tomorrow, I will bring it to Angie’s house. We can do itagain. We can ask her if there is proof.” I said, as I started flipping througha Seventeen magazine. Pretending that I wasn’t scared was hard, but both girlslooked convinced as they made their way out of my room to meet their parentsoutside.

Minuteslater, Mom and I waved to the cars. I apologized for my outburst as she put herarm around my shoulder.

“Mom,does anyone think that Grace’s father is the one who killed her?” I tried toact cool about it but she eyed me with little bit of suspicion.

“Idon’t think so,” she said slowly and wearily.

Inodded my head and went back to my bedroom. I didn’t sleep at all that night. Iknew who had murdered Grace and there was nothing I could do about it.

Thenext day, I fumbled with the OUIJA board box before I gave up, by stuffing justthe board and the pointer into my backpack. Mom had called for me to go for thethird time and I rolled my eyes at her impatience. She didn’t know thatimportant things were being prepared and I, too, couldn’t wait to get with myfriends and try to talk to Grace again.

Thethree of us begged our parents off and headed into Angie’s room. The Offspringand Goo Goo Doll posters adorned her walls. Angie was also an amazing artistand had several of her canvases leaning up on every wall, with open and driedup oil tubes littering her floor. The smell of her room sometimes made Emmysick but for me, it was relaxing to be among creativity. I hadn’t found my realhobby yet. I liked to sing along with male lead bands because my voice was lowenough. That, however, was the extent of my musical talent.

Itook the board and pointer out of the backpack and tossed it on the bed.

“Weare not doing that where I sleep at night,” Angie scolded me. I nodded inunderstanding while Emmy gracefully took the board and with great care, as ifshe was going to break it, placed it on the floor like she had done theprevious day.

Wequickly sat down, placed our fingers at the same spots, and look at each other.Without asking a word, the pointer moved to yes, move away and then went backto yes.

“Sheis here,” Angie whispered. “What do we ask?”

Thepointer moved and we watched as it moved from D to A to D. It did this twicebefore I realized that she would probably leave again.

“Whatam I going to be when I get older?” I asked in a hurry. “Oh, this is Jules.”

Thepointer didn’t move for a while as I thought about an early death. Would I getolder? Was it like Krysta? Because last I had heard, Kent was fighting with herover the phone. A lifetime they would not last. Finally it moved. Slowly itmoved to S. It sat there for several seconds. What was I going to be when Igrew up? A singer? A songwriter? A salesman? A sales clerk? Oh god, I was goingto be pathetic.

Thepointer moved quickly to L. I couldn’t come up with anything before it moved toU. Then rapidly, it shot over to T. The pointer gained momentum and repeatedthe word. S–L–U–T. S–L–U–T. I looked at my friends in confusion.

“What’sa slut?” Emmy whispered. We both shrugged our shoulders and then Emmy asked thesame question. I didn’t see what the pointer answered but she looked just asdumbfounded as I did. I blanked out, trying to figure out what a slut was. WhenAngie asked, I was about to jump up and run to a dictionary but I couldn’t letgo before we were done. Emmy and I both stared off at something in the room asAngie got her answer. I looked down to see the last two letters were Z-Y. Angiegasped and withdrew her hands from the pointer. Without her fingers, however,the pointer made its way to GOOD BYE.

Weall started talking at once about how the board was a fake and one of us wasmoving it. When I asked them why it moved on its own without our hands theprevious morning, I was met with silence.

Angiegot up and with shaking hands, put the board and the pointer back into thebackpack. Emmy cleared her throat.

“Let’sgo play hopscotch,” she said numbly. We all nodded. As we made it out of thehouse, Angie’s mom came up and clearly she had been crying. She hugged Angie sohard and then continued to hug both Emmy and I, as well.

“Mom,what is it? Why are you crying?” Angie asked.

“Oh honey. They got him. Grace’s killer. They found evidence and he was arrestedthis morning. You are all safe now. It is so sad for her family but such arelief to us parents,” she said grimly. Her head fell back as she wiped themascara from under her eyes.

“Who?Who killed her?” Emmy shakily asked.

“Itwas her father, dear. He is a very, very sick man. But that isn’t your problemso you don’t need to worry about it one bit. Here, let me get you some candymoney and you can walk down to the corner store,” she said as she scurried outof the room and gave us each a five dollar bill. We all looked at it perplexed.

“Isit too little? I can get more,” she said, sounding panicked. “You girls havebeen holed up for three weeks now. Maybe I should get more.”

“No.”We all said it in unison and Angie’s mom nodded slowly. We filed out the frontdoor and started walking on the sidewalk in a line. We didn’t say anything allthe way to the store. We all knew who had killed Grace. But the shock that theboard was right was what made us realize that we probably couldn’t escape whowe would be as we grew up.

Chapter TWO of Plastic Confidence – Release Date August 18, 2014

Here is my weekly tease read, one more until released date!Catch them sooner on my page! Release Date is August 18, 2014! Come to the party!

TWO

Returning home from camp was a big, fat mistake. The days dragged on and on without anything to do. It was like going from a roller coaster to the merry-go-round in two minutes. I was bored out of my skull, brain, body, house, and everything else in between. I wanted out of myself and fast.

I watched the local news every night with my mother and brother, while we ate dinner at the table. Mom had dragged a TV in to the kitchen, so we could get updates on the murder, and what parents were doing to make sure their kids remained safe. When they said safe, I always , drawing looks from both Mom and Kent. I was dying. I even  because that was all there was to do. So I sat and watched the updates on my jail sentence as I forked the veggies around on my plate.

When Grace’s story came on, Mom made a  noise with her fork as she set it down and I hung onto every word. Itdidn’t feel real. They had buried her the day before and I thought maybe I would go to the cemetery just to… I don’t know. Say hi, maybe? People talked to gravestones. I saw it on television. It was so sad on those shows, so I tried to think of other ways I could tell her that I was sorry she had to die.

The days went by in true prison fashion.Breakfast, shower, dress, television, lunch, play games, snack, look out the window, dinner, television, and bed.

Hit repeat.

During the play games portion of the day, I acted as teacher with my stuffed toys. Momhad put a huge chalkboard on one wall of my bedroom so I lined all of my dolls and animals just as I gave them their math pop quiz. The groaning answer I got from my students was so annoying to me, the teacher.

I hung out in our basement a lot. It was cool and damp and far away from the woman who was set out to ruin my life for the unforeseeable future. Momwouldn’t let me do anything outdoors. I couldn’t even go to the supermarketunless she was within eyesight of me.

I exhausted all of our old Atari games over and over. Pac Man, Asteroids, and Centipede weren’t as visually stimulating but they were hard to beat nonetheless. While everyone else had the newestPlayStation, Mom insisted Kent scarcely used the game console to begin with,therefore, constituting that it needed more wear. I rolled my eyes at her butcovertly had a serious obsession with Kaboom. I treasured that game until I had beaten it so many times that I disconnected the whole system and put it in a box for our next garage sale.

Momowed us that upgrade since the system was thoroughly played. As I added thelast of the wires to the box in the garage, I made a note to mention that atdinner that night so she knew that I couldn’t handle solitary confinement muchlonger. Not one to back down on what I thought was right for world peace, everyday I begged Mom incessantly for Emmy or Angie to play. What was her repetitiveresponse?

“We’llsee,” she proposed with a frown. Why not just yell no to my face? That would besome excitement for the day. I watched Kent mosey in and out of the house withKrysta or one of the Jason’s. I begged them to go for ice cream. I begged themto take me for a five minute drive. I begged them until my sobbing, reddenedface, and their pathetic apologies made me hate them forever.

Momcaved in on the fourth day. I could play with chalk on the walkway leading upto the front door. I had to report anything suspicious because according to theevening news every night, Grace’s murderer still hadn’t been caught. They had afew people that they were looking into but no arrests had been made. My defenseto my mother went something like this:

“Mom,I didn’t even know the girl. She lives a town away. Grace was alone when shewas taken. If I go to Emmy or Angie’s house, I won’t be alone. I will be safethere. I will watch out for any strangers who stalk the house. I will dowhatever you want me to, but if I don’t get out of this house, I am going tohate you forever.” I confidently blasted into her face.

Herreply was not to have a reply. TypicalMom. Stone cold until she probably got behind the closed door to sigh androll her eyes. Ignoring me and walking away to prove that my argument wasn’t upfor discussion was more annoying than a fly that wouldn’t stop circling my head.I would smack at it only to miss. My mother was officially that annoying fly. Iwas too keyed up to take pleasure in soaking in the sun. I took the stupidplastic tub of chalk out to the driveway, not the walkway (thank you verymuch), and colored all of them down to the nub so that she could never suggestsuch a juvenile activity.

Thatnight, I snuck phone calls to both girls after I knew their parents would be inbed for work. Sometimes I hated that my mother was a secretary librarian atschool, allowing her the late nights and sleeping in. Their parents weren’tallowing them to do much either but Emmy did get to go to Wild World for a daywith a cousin who was visiting. I secretly disliked her very much for that. Ithad been four days with minimal communication with my best friends. It was thelongest, most agonizing time I had ever suffered. I felt like I was beingstarved. It was child abuse. I threatened “red rum” regularly, hoping my dramawould force my mother to give me my life back. She told me I was watching toomany horror movies and to knock it off.

Onemorning, Mom called out to me while I was beginning the boxes of Hopscotch withthe leftover nubs of chalk.

“BothEmily and Angela are on their way over. I will sit outside with you girls with lemonade and a book. All the parents have discussed it and every day you girlscan have two hours at each other’s houses. Tomorrow, you can go to Angela’s,”she declared.

Isprinted to her and hugged her so tight that I knew she was flinching. Shehooted at me and I pulled away. I kissed her cheek, ran inside for a couple ofboard games, and headed out to the warm green grass to wait for their cars. Istarted to notice dandelions and butterflies. Nature had color once again and Icouldn’t be more enthralled with life that day.

Angiewas first to arrive and we squeezed one another like we hadn’t seen each otherin years. Emmy showed up in the middle of the hug and we had a five minutegroup hug as we jumped up and down. I noticed we had all dressed in therequisite best friend attire. Solid colored tank top from Old Navy, khaki shortshorts, and the Tevas we had all grown to love. They were all the same design,of course. We were the triplets and everyone knew it. We made sure thateveryone knew it just by the way we coordinated our outfits. We no longerneeded the phone call the night before. We just managed to do it somehow. Ilaughed at the familiarity of our friendship and was instantly content. Ipointed to the blanket Mom had put out and where the board games lay.

“Payday?Or do you guys wanna play Hopscotch” I asked with excitement in my voice. Myfriends were actually here. It was glorious.

“Hopscotch,”they answered in unison and it made me giggle. My friends. I was so happy. Wesearched the front yard for stones as we talked about camp and how we allwished we were still there hanging out in our cabin.

“Franksent me a postcard the day before yesterday. It has his number on it but I don’tthink I will call,” I twisted my lip into a frown.

“Whynot?” Emmy asked. She threw her rock and started to hop.

“Idon’t know. When am I really going to see him? I only get two hour supervisedvisits with you.” I made a groaning angry sound that I had been using quite abit. I was learning the art of being angry.

“True,”Angie said with a shrug. “I don’t care much about seeing or talking to Kevineither.”

Weall let out an exhale and moved on to the topic of starting Junior High in thefall. That conversation took up the rest of the two hours and as I wavedgoodbye to both of my friends, I thought about how much I wished Grace’smurderer would get arrested already. He was ruining the lives of all childrenin the area.

Thatsame night there was a small knock on my door. I muted a rerun of “The WonderYears” and called for whomever to come in. Krysta hesitantly stepped throughthe room with a board game in her hands. I looked at her puzzled.

“What’sup? Are you here to pity the little sister?” I was finished with niceties. Shesmirked at me and shook her head.

“Thiswas mine,” she addressed a game box as she handed it over to me. The box read OUIJAin big bold letters. “I thought maybe you and the girls could play it when… youknow, things are over. I played it with my friends when I was twelve and we hada pretty entertaining time with it.”

“OW-EH-JA?” I asked looking up to her with a perplexed expression. I had neverheard of it before.

“WEE-GEE,” she laughingly answered.

“Thatis not proper English. Who comes up with these words?” I asked as I slid myhand over the worn box top.

“Noidea. But try it out, it’s fun. It’s a board and you basically call in ghosts,”she smiled with a tinge of sarcasm as she air quoted ghosts.

Iwas instantly interested. I sat up and forward with my eyes wide.

“Really,like what do you do?” I asked. I opened the box and saw a sun and a moon, yesand no, the alphabet, and the words GOOD BYE in big font.

“Youand someone else or whoever can fit their fingers on this thing,” she saidpulling out a triangular pointed plastic piece. “You ask it questions and youtry not to move your fingers but somehow, probably like how trees sway orsomething, it moves to different places on the board.”

Ilooked at it with rapt fascination. “Can we try?” I asked looking up to her,begging with my eyes. She shrugged her shoulders and we got on the floor andpositioned the board and the pointer. Krysta asked it what year Kent and shewould get married. I rolled my eyes but kept my fingers very still. It didn’tdo anything. It just sat there. And so did we, for like twenty minutes. Sheasked the same question over and over, increasingly irritated each time.Finally I popped my fingers off and got up. With my butt now asleep and myinterest totally lost, I frowned.

“Iguess it doesn’t work with me,” I lied, kind of thinking that they would neverget married. Krysta let out a breath and popped the game and pointer back intothe box.

“Well,it’s yours now, Jules. Have fun with it, if it even works for you,” she said,flinging her blond hair behind her back. I watched her walk out of the room,quietly closing the door. I felt bad for her in that moment and yelled out athank you.

I pressed the mute button and laid back to watch Kevin and Winnie walking down the street, hand in hand.

Reviews of Alisa's Previous Work on The Chosen Series and One Missing Link