PDF A Monsters Paradise (An Away From Whipplethorn Book 3)

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Uh-oh, it looks like your Internet Explorer is out of date. For a better shopping experience, please upgrade now. Javascript is not enabled in your browser. Enabling JavaScript in your browser will allow you to experience all the features of our site. Learn how to enable JavaScript on your browser. So for Matilda, adventures are in short supply. Finally agreeing to let Matilda take some responsibility, her mother gives her a list of emergency procedures for babysitting. Minutes into her first job, watching her sister and an obnoxious neighbor, humans appear in isolated Whipplethorn Manor.

When the mantel ends up on display in an antique mall, the security that Matilda always took for granted is gone. No spam. Spam is evil. She was sure there was a story behind each ornate door. As the only grandchild around for many years, A. As an adult, A. Hartoin decided she needed a whole lot more life experience if she was going to write good characters so she joined the Air Force.

She met her husband and traveled the world, living in Alaska, Italy, and Germany before settling in Colorado where she now lives with her family, a Great Dane, a skanky cat, and six bad chickens. Connect with A. We need to talk. Talking was never good. Talking meant Mom was about to change her mind.

Away From Whipplethorn Series

I was great at getting out of stuff but lousy at getting my own way. I managed to avoid unwanted activities with a series of excuses and fake injuries like overwhelming homework, or blinding headaches. I had a fake limp that was pretty useful. It came on suddenly and lasted for two weeks. Getting what I wanted was much more difficult. Mom caught on to the limp thing and used it against me. That was just the excuse. I had snail pox when I was two and the fever cost me a good deal of my hearing. I could hear what I needed to hear.

Since the snail pox, Mom and Dad worried about me like crazy while at the same time saying I was just the same as all the other girls my age. The sound of my wings on the floor drove her crazy. She hated dusty wings and said it was a sign of dusty mind. Whatever that meant. The glowing mushrooms on the hallway walls lit the way as I slowly passed by.

They grew in pots and cast a warm green light.

A.W Hartoin - Book Series In Order

Each cap was bigger than my fist and watering our fungus was my favorite chore. I stopped to say hello to my favorite, a frilly clump of Foxfire I named Barbara. Mom walked out of the kitchen, her long silver and blue wings draped over her shoulders like a cape. Are you coming? I dropped my hand and continued to the kitchen. Mom bustled around, eyeing me as she rearranged her hand-painted eggshell plates. I crossed my arms and waited.

She could rearrange those plates all day. Finally, she stopped and put her hands on her hips, assuming her battle expression. It only showed up when she wanted to make me or my little sister, Iris, go to the dentist or eat a lima bean. Gerald Whipplethorn? He was the worst. The absolute worst. I suddenly remembered an essay I had to write, my eyesight started to go in my left eye and I gripped the stool in an effort to ward off what was sure to become a crippling case of vertigo. No way, Mom.

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I wavered back and forth on the stool. Stop that nonsense. Matilda Grace Whipplethorn, you are babysitting for your sister and Gerald.


His mother needs a break. Babysitting is a pretty boring job. Nothing will happen. She picked up a roll of parchment off the counter. The emergency procedures list. The thing was ridiculous. It insisted I be capable of handling such calamities as a rogue fly attack, snail pox, and spurting arterial blood. Adult wood fairies could manipulate liquids, like making it rain in one spot instead of another, or staunch blood flow.

My Grandma Vi could stop a cut from bleeding with just a look. At least no magic I wanted anyone to know about. I never would either. I was afraid Mom might actually answer and tell me how to pop snail pox pustules. But on the other hand, the list implied that a horrendous calamity might happen if Mom left me in charge.

For once, it was in my interest to encourage the idea.

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The stuff on the list is pretty serious. She said I was fine, but she looked like she needed to breathe into a paper bag to keep from hyperventilating. Mom bent over and kissed me on the forehead, enveloping me in her wings. She smelled like violets and the scent soothed me as it always did since the time I had snail pox pustules. Then she placed her forehead against mine. It will be fine. You can handle him. You can handle anything. I looked into her dark brown eyes and found the usual worries.

Then Mom darted out of the kitchen with just one glance over her shoulder.

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  • If I could watch after Gerald, I could do anything. I rolled up the list and went to the kitchen window, a carved rose the size of a nickel. Now I had a good view of nothing. The room was empty and had been for fifty years. An earthquake had cracked the foundation and the humans fled, leaving an extraordinary house to rot. This decision had always caused me to question the wisdom of humans.

    We simply adapted to our new more isolated circumstances. Mom flitted in front of my window, her lovely wings creating a canvas behind her and bathing me in a warm glow with their luminescence. Have fun, darling. Mom zipped away, across the dining room toward the enormous bank of windows. She stopped at a broken window pane and waved. A wide, joyful smile lit her face. I would keep that image of her safe within my heart in the days to come. When she was a little girl, she was very curious and creative, imagining constant stories about almost everything.

    This place was astonishing for her, because it was filled with beautiful and big houses, according to her, every of them were unique. She liked to imagine a story for each house and, at the same time, was sure there was something amazing behind every door and every wall. It was many years later when the family grew, meanwhile, she was the only granddaughter, she was allowed to do anything she wanted, such as exploring every corner of the house. When she was older, she decide to join the Air Force, because she had the belief that if she was going to be a great write, she had to gather more a lot more life experience.

    She needed to learn about the world and the people, so as to create good and unforgettable characters. It is true the life teaches us more than books and school, and living are the main fuel for a writer and she knew that. Actually, it was the best education she had received ever.


    During her service, she met the man who became her husband. Together, they went around the world, knew many places, people and different cultures from all around the world. She is known for her different books series, every of them aimed at a diverse audience. She is not really a fan of horror genre, but writing mystery is one of her passions. Besides the excellent writing, one of the most attractive features of this series is the suspense she keeps along the every book. In addition, her writing is so detailed and descriptive, that it is so easy to imagine the entire story as it was a movie.

    This is a good characteristic, especially for those new readers, who are not used to complicated grammar constructions. Furthermore, the story is so catching that you do not want it to end.