I know I have been neglectful to my blog….but…I have a good reason. Not only have I been hard at work on the 3rd Amy Maxwell book, I have finished editing “The Dead of Summer” and have been notified by Kindle Press that it will be released next Tuesday, September 29! if you were among the kindle Scouts who nominated the novel, you should have received your free copy…I’d love if you would leave a review on the Amazon page.

If you weren’t one of the lucky ones who got a free copy, you can pre-order the novel by following this link:

http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Summer-Heather-Balog-ebook/dp/B012BBZBAO/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000031_00002]

Check out this excerpt from “The Dead of Summer”:

“Adults insist that you never completely remember your childhood. They say that as the years pass by, those little details that once captured your undivided attention become fuzzy around the edges. As time marches on, the sharp memories start crinkling up like a piece of newspaper burning in a campfire; first you can just make out the sentences, and then, the white hot fire laps at the pages, blurring them and obscuring the actual words. Until all that you are left with is a fine white ash and the vague memories of what used to be.

As long as I’m breathing, I know I will never forget my sixteenth summer. It’s been years, but that summer is etched finely in my memory. That was the summer I finally kissed a boy, found the body in the basement, and discovered that keeping secrets just might kill you. And believe me, that isn’t something you forget too easily, no matter how hard you try. And I sure as hell have tried.

My sixteenth summer was a strange time in Novella, South Carolina. When that first honeysuckle bloomed in early June, we were sure as hell done with summer already that year. For some reason, it had been unseasonably warm for nearly three months, the moon had been unnaturally full, and the events of that time inexplicably crazy, making me remember it even more. It was the summer that Shayla Wilson’s daddy discovered that she had been the one who was been stealing the cold cuts from his grocery store and giving them to the homeless couple that lived in the back alley. The day after that, Mrs. Busby’s (or aka Mrs. Busybody’s) barn burned down and her cows were discovered completely unscathed three miles down the road. And that all happened after the thirty-something-year-old principal of my high school ran off with Mrs. Nelson, the married sixty-five-year-old chemistry teacher. But none of that was what changed my life.

It was a blistering hot day in June when I was pretty sure my life trajectory had been altered forever. That was the day I met him. Him was Carson Tyler, and I truly believe that if I had not met him, had he not breezed into our quaint little town, my life would have taken a totally different path from that point on. Better or worse, I’ll never know, but one thing is for certain; Carson Tyler’s arrival set into motion the events that would change me forever. He was like that first domino that falls, causing all the other dominoes that are perfectly lined up to come crashing down in rapid succession.”

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