When the Tiger Smiles
by Sonja Stone

By the time 16-year-old Emma Riley realizes her life is in peril, she’s at the bottom of a canyon 2,000 miles from home.

Like any self-respecting overachiever, Emma is thrilled when she’s invited to attend a small private school a few weeks into her junior year. Recently dumped by her boyfriend (for her ex-best friend), she’s ready for a change. However, the recruiter from Desert Mountain Academy fails to mention one pertinent detail: her new school is a training facility for future spies. She’s briefed on arrival and, despite the intimidating curriculum, she’s determined to make the most of her opportunity. But when her classmates learn that a double agent has infiltrated the student body, her situation takes a deadly turn.

As it turns out, the girl Emma replaced didn’t die in a car accident—she was murdered. The administration quietly suspects Emma—she is the new transfer. Evidence against her begins to accumulate, and her gorgeous new boyfriend can’t ignore it forever.

Emma’s being framed, and she’s desperate to clear her name. Meanwhile, the real double agent will stop at nothing to protect his or her identity—including an attempt on Emma’s life.

Tell me you’re not hooked! Can’t wait to read it, can you? Well, good news! You can get it right now for your Kindle on Amazon or your Nook onBarnes & Noble, and print copies will be available on Amazon on August 1!

Want to know more about Sonja Stone? Rumor has it she’s already hard at work on a sequel.

Take a look and pass the word, especially to any young adult readers you may know. You’ll be glad you did. Plus, every time someone buys the book, God kills a vampire.

When I was little he built me a bicycle out of parts and I rode it for years, until I outgrew it. He would pick mangoes and starfruit from his trees for me and my sister. My memories of him are a mix of my own stories and the stories of my parents; my dad, for instance, tells how Giddo didn’t approve of him and stopped speaking to my mother after they were married. Then one day there was a knock on their door, and when they opened it, Giddo stood there with a full bag of groceries in each arm. I was just passing by, he said, and Dad laughs, remembering. It’s a four-hour drive from Orlando to Tallahassee, where we were living, Dad says. I was just passing by.

David met Giddo in 2002, in Belize at my cousin’s wedding. My two-year-old son toddled up to Giddo Mike, craned his neck way back, and said, You’re a really tall man, thereby securing himself in his great-grandfather’s good graces forever. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone grin so big as Giddo did just then. He took David’s hand and they walked around looking at turtles in the fountain and little blue crabs along the driveway.

My indestructible Giddo passed away peacefully yesterday morning at the age of 88.

As-salamu alaykum, Giddo.

We started with Georgia O’Keeffe and Matisse. We read books about them first (I recommend the Getting to Know series by Mike Venezia), and then we talked about some of their works using my extensive library of art books. That was the point at which I realized exactly where all my money went while I was in college. It really is a nice collection. We went to the grocery store and bought large flowers that interested us — we each picked out one bunch — and then brought them home and drew them close up, like Georgia O’Keeffe. Tomorrow we will be drawing with scissors like Matisse.

This morning David, Craig and I made the trip to the city and visited the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. They have Femme au Chapeau, which is one of the images from the Venezia book, and I wanted David to see it. It could not have been a more perfect moment had it been scripted. We climbed the stairs and turned to the left on the second floor — you can almost see it right from there, but there were people in the way. We moved over toward it, and when a gap opened he saw it and pointed and squeezed my hand and gasped, “That was painted by Henri Matisse!” Why, yes, yes it was. Imagine finding that here.

We talked about how it looked, and how it was bigger than he thought it would be. I had told him the colors would look different than they did in the book. He wasn’t convinced, but that’s okay. Then we wandered through the galleries, looking at whatever interested him. Fountain stopped him for a moment, but he was perfectly ready to accept it as art. “It’s sculpture, Mom.” Yup.

We spent a few minutes in the Koret Visitor Education Center, watching part of a film that talked about Matisse and Picasso and their models.

I have a personal tradition when I visit a museum of choosing a postcard from the gift shop to remind me of one particular work that I enjoyed on that trip. David made his first postcard choice today. He picked Les Valeurs personnelles by Magritte, which is the painting he spent the most time in front of during our visit. Back in the car, he showed me Femme au Chapeau in his Matisse book. He admitted that his favorite part of the visit was the translucent walkway on the fifth floor. Fine by me: he had a favorite part.

A ticket, a postcard, a map, and a blog post — David at SFMOMA.