Karlie Lucas is a preschool teacher by day and a writer/artist by night.
A graduate of Southern Utah University, Karlie received a B.A. in Creative Writing, with a minor in art. She is a member of Sigma Tau Delta, The International English Honor Society, as well as ANWA, the American Night Writers Association.
Karlie is interested in all things magical and mysterious, especially elves and dragons. She is an avid fan of J.R.R. Tolkien and J.K. Rowling.
When not writing, Karlie can often be found drawing, baking, watching her favorite old school shows, or just spending time with her family.
She currently resides in Dallas, Texas with her husband and a cat named Kally.
Most teenagers don’t have a voice talking in their heads, but that’s pretty normal for Kas. It’s been there her whole life, giving her directions, keeping her from harm. When the voice advises against the family picnic in the mountains, she’s sure there’s a reason, but convincing her mom is another matter.
While in the mountains, Kas accidentally stumbles on a gateway to another dimension. Almost immediately, her life is in peril. From a disembodied man known only as Milord and a hoard of hooded men who want her soul, she doesn’t know who to trust in this strange place where dreams become reality.
As Kas learns more about who she is and how she came to the Waymeet of Worlds, it becomes clear that someone is lying to her. But is it the voice she’s known her whole life or the new friends she finds in Milord’s castle. Choosing the wrong people to trust could cost her soul and prevent her from fulfilling her destiny.
but bookshelves with more books. “Where are you? Who are you?” I leaned against
the nearest shelf, glad that it was sturdy, as unmovable as a mountain. I hoped
I wasn’t too obvious about doing it. My heart was pounding so fast now that it
made breathing difficult and I felt somewhat dizzy because of it.
near the end of this shelf. You will see my shadow. Don’t be afraid.” His voice
was gentle, maybe a tenor. His words were careful, caressing. It was hard to
not trust that voice. It was like a gently flowing stream filled with sunlight.
Where do you actually write?