La lluvia cae porque la nube ya no puede soportar el peso. Las lagrimas caen porque el corazón ya no puede soportar el dolor. Completamente MIA -Dile no al plagio-

FIRST CAME THE DRAGONS When scientists brought everyone's favorite fairytale creature to life, people flocked to see them, including 17-year-old Zelda Rissland. THEN CAME THE PARASITE But scientists created more than just dragons-they created a deadly parasite. Wyrmrot, they later called it. First, it ate your brain, and then it made you eat other people's brains. NOW ZELDA MUST SURVIVE THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE Separated from her family, the only person Zelda has left from her former life is her childhood friend turned boyfriend, Cooper Marotta. Together they've carved out a safe place for themselves in a world turned upside down, but when a zombie horde decimates their survivor group, they face a choice: attempt to rebuild or follow the mysterious coordinates that appeared on a construction sign. Zelda still hopes her family is out there somewhere and believes the coordinates might lead her to them. Cooper, however, thinks the coordinates will only bring trouble. When the remaining survivors vote to undertake the perilous cross-country journey, he attempts to deter them every step of the way. What Zelda discovers at their destination will test her loyalties and change everything she thought she knew about the apocalypse. Wyrmrot is a heart-stopping Young Adult Apocalyptic novel told in dual timelines. "Jurassic Park meets Resident Evil." This fast-paced tale of survival, secrets, and betrayal features dragons, zombies, and a touch of romance. Perfect for fans of Erin Bowman's Contagion or Emily Suvada's This Mortal Coil. Cover design and illustration by Jeff Brown (www.jeffbrowngraphics.com) Available on Amazon in paperback, eBook, and Kindle Unlimited.

🏆 Historia original ganadora de los premios Wattys 2018 en la categoría "Agentes de cambio". Dicen que la anestesia es como los aviones: normalmente son lo más seguro del mundo, pero de vez en cuando, uno que otro falla. ―Vamos a contar del diez al cero. Adelante ―me dice, como varias veces―. Diez, nueve... cuenta conmigo, Andrés. ―Diez, nueve... ―mi voz grave se torna acuosa; frágil―. Ocho... siete, seis, cinco... No paso del cinco. Es como un preludio al triste final. Un camino que recorres, a pesar de que ya sabes cómo acabará. Una densa neblina negra obstruye mis pensamientos, dejándome, de nuevo, en completa oscuridad. Cinco.