Hi, I’m Hannah. I’ve been writing for as long as I could hold a pencil, and I have been seriously pursuing publication for the last 10 years. I’m currently in the process of revising my sixth manuscript. While I primarily write middle grade, I do write across a range of age categories and genres. I’m an experienced critique partner searching for additional long-term CPs.
My favorite stories always have speculative elements, but I will enjoy almost anything if the characters are well-fleshed and the world feels alive. I love adventure stories, science fiction, books with dark themes, both low- and high-fantasy worlds, fairy tale/mythology retellings, and genre-bending books.
Recent favorite MG books:
Percy Jackson and the Olympians, The Dreadful Tale of Prosper Redding, The Hotel Between, The False Prince series, Lockwood & Co., and Keeper of the Lost Cities
A few of my favorite authors:
Diana Wynne Jones, Tamora Pierce, Juliet Marillier, Mary E. Pearson, Garth Nix, Laini Taylor, and Margaret Rogerson
I would not be a good fit for chapter books, magical realism, or novels in verse, as I am not well read in these categories/genres.
Ever since she saw her first ghost, twelve-year-old Riley Gates has been obsessed with the supernatural. She earns her allowance hiding in Savannah cemeteries, scaring tourists for her parents’ walking tour, and her idol is the host of Paranormal Pioneers, a ghost-hunting show with depressingly low ratings.
Living in the most haunted city in America even makes her lack of friends bearable—after all, a friend would just get in the way of her paranormal investigations. But then her parents reveal shocking news: the ghost tour is going under and their family will be moving to Michigan. No one seems to care that Riley’s world is collapsing around her, not her parents or her classmates, and certainly not her ex-best-friend-turned-nemesis, Sarah Clarke.
When it’s revealed that Paranormal Pioneers will be hosting a ghost-hunting competition in her hometown of Savannah, it looks like all of Riley’s prayers have been answered. Not only does she have it in the bag (after all, she eats, sleeps, and breathes ghosts), but there’s a ten-thousand-dollar grand prize. The catch? Everyone must compete in teams of two, and the only kid in her class not partnered up is Sarah. If Riley can’t swallow her pride, she’ll be forced to miss out on competing altogether.
But as the competition heats up, Riley can’t shake the feeling that Sarah is keeping a secret from her—something that could cause them to lose the tournament… Or their lives.
Chapter One
Pretending to be a ghost gets lonely.
I’ve been crouching behind the same gravestone for the last twenty minutes, which is twenty minutes too long, if you ask me. I’d much rather be searching for real ghosts instead of impersonating one.
I shiver as the wind whips through the cemetery and zip my jacket straight to my nose. The sun set over an hour ago, but the moon provides just enough light for me to peer around the headstone. Mom’s dark form treks into sight, leading a pack of lumbering shadows.
Finally. I duck back into position, hidden behind a crumbling gray tombstone so weathered that the words have worn away until all that’s left is L…I…A…R.
Poor guy. Not exactly the way I’d want to be remembered.
If I listen closely, I can just hear Mom’s voice, the sound hollow and tinny through the megaphone. “This way, folks…that’s right, past the oak tree…”
Mom’s dressed like Morticia Addams, her face powdered pale white. Stringy black hair hangs down to her elbows, and she sweeps it back over her shoulders. “Now don’t stand too close. The ghost of Tom Brown has been known to wail when death is near and I…I think I hear something.” She pauses for dramatic effect.
Crap, that’s my cue. I pull my knees from the sucking grasp of mud, inch as close to the headstone as I can, and let loose my most murder-y wail. I wince. Usually my ghost-voice is spot on, but tonight it sounds more like a wolf’s howl than a dead guy calling from the beyond.
That’s not good. If any of the customers get wise, Dad will not be pleased.
Luckily, we’ve got a few chickens on this tour. A man clutches the arm of the dark-haired woman beside him, his eyes shifting through the empty cemetery. “Did you hear that?” he murmurs, moving closer to her.
The woman shrugs out of his grasp, rolling her eyes. “Get off of me, Alan.”
I crouch behind the tombstone and hunch my shoulders, careful not to be seen as the tour group trudges past.
I am currently working on my next spooky middle-grade novel.
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