In the aftermath of the Big Crash, the President of the United States declares martial law. The National Guard rounds up citizens who are never heard from again. While fear and chaos reign, a small band of revolutionaries rise up to resist.

Lacy Monroe, barely out of high school, never saw herself as a leader. All that changed after the Big Crash. When the rest of her family fled, she remained on the farm, the last piece of land in the state holding out against the hostile government. Alone and vulnerable, she endures a horrific attack, yet survives and offers sanctuary to others like herself—until an old friend turns her world upside-down.

Jace Cooper has harbored a secret for years—he is completely in love with his best friend’s sister. The world is crumbling around them, no one knows how long they will survive, and all he wants is to protect Lacy and stay with her.

With the National Guard circling ever closer, hunger and sickness taking a toll, and betrayal and jealousy threatening to destroy the group from the inside, the struggle to hold onto the farm pushes them to the brink. And Lacy is keeping a secret so devastating it could drive Jace to unthinkable actions. Is the farm a safe asylum—or will the fight for freedom destroy them?

Targeted Age Group:: Older YA, NA

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?

The inspiration for this book came from asking myself some hard questions. What would happen if everything we've come to depend on as a society was stripped away from us? Could I survive without electricity and the convenience of a grocery store? More importantly, could my children?

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?

Most of the characters are a conglomeration of people I know. Lacy is the personification of all three of my daughters. The nefarious uncle in the story is loosely based off of someone.

Book Sample

State Capitol, Austin, Texas

When U.S. Senator Thomas Monroe foresaw

America’s downfall and began to declare a

national economic crisis, he had no idea he’d be

sitting at the helm of a revolution.

On a stifling July day, two months after the “Big Crash,”

Thomas sat brooding at his desk. A strong, healthy man in his

late fifties with more grey hair than black, he considered

himself worthy of the task. He’d serve the Federal Reserve

chairwoman, who labeled him Dr. Doom-n-Gloom, a big piece

of crow pie the next time they crossed paths. She negated his

warnings with one demeaning Forbes Magazine interview.

He shook his head, exasperated. “As if anyone could definitively

say there wouldn’t be another financial crisis in our lifetime,”

he muttered. “Look where we are now.”

He unbuttoned his shirt’s top button, loosened his black

Armani tie. Because the Wolves of Wall Street ignored the

blinding, red warning signs, the economy had spiraled into a

bottomless pit. As a result, panic swept the country in waves of

riots, looting, and arson.

He sunk back in his chair. Uneasiness crept up his spine

like a spider. He disagreed with the president’s martial law

declaration and new economic reform policy through forced

labor camps.

Unsure whether to follow the president’s new law, the

Texas governor looked to him for leadership. At Thomas’

urging, the State of Texas signed a secession agreement. Once

again its own Republic, the Lone Star State set a precedent

and California followed its lead. His involvement with the

insurrection put a bull’s eye on his back. With the stroke of a

pen, he made an enemy of the president.

He leaned forward, shuffled through some papers and

picked up a surveillance photo of his family farm in Oklahoma,

taken two days before. The picture captured his niece leading a

huge sorrel horse to pasture. He studied her image with grave

intent. Wind whipped her jet-black hair creating a veil that hid

her pixie-like features. To say he felt no apprehension when he

found it was his nineteen-year-old niece, Lacy, had agreed to

stay would be a lie.

Guilt wormed its way into his gut. “She’s no bigger than a

half-pint of ale,” he murmured. “What in God’s name were you

thinking, Emmett?”

He hadn’t spoken to his brother, Emmett, in years. Their

mother had been the wedge between them, her passing the

farm to him on her deathbed hammered the final nail into the

coffin of their relationship. When he called Emmett asking for

help, he hoped they’d patch things up, start fresh, but Emmet

refused to bury the past. Instead, he left his young daughter

behind to be the necessary beneficiary he needed to occupy the

farm. The image of a sacrificial lamb popped into his head.

Irritated, he dropped the photo on the file marked “Land

Trust.” His family farm now sat securely in the independent

State of Texas’ hands. Oklahoma no longer had jurisdiction

over those forty acres.

A short staccato rap jolted his heart.

“Excuse me, senator?” His assistant poked his head around

the door, his blonde bangs hung like macramé fringe covering

his eyes. “I have a new report.”

Thomas flicked two fingers in the air, motioning the young

man inside. “From where?”

“Oklahoma, sir.” He shuffled inside. “We just got a message

from one of our operatives at the Texas-Oklahoma border.” He

hesitated.

“Go on,” he ordered.

“Sir, they’ve organized the National Guard and are moving

across the state. They are gathering all citizens they can find

and hauling them by train to Fort Sill.”

Deep lines formed over his brow. He rubbed at the

mounting pressure. “If we want control over Oklahoma, we’ll

have to move fast.”

The nervous assistant ran sweaty hands over his khaki

pants. “We don’t have much time.”

Thomas reached in his shirt pocket for his Marlboros,

flipped out a cigarette and lit the tip. The sulfuric smell, the rag

paper between his fingers, settled his nerves.

“Do we have any news on Jake Cooper? He was supposed

to get a man inside the National Guard we can trust. I hoped

that would be his youngest son, Jace.”

“No, sir. Not a word.” The young man edged to the door,

his feet shuffling across the shiny tile floor.

“Well, keep trying Jake’s cell and land line. Oh, and check

the telegraph machine.” He pulled an ashtray from his desk

drawer and stubbed his cigarette. “That’s all, William.”

The young man left with a hasty “Yes, sir,” thrown over his

shoulder.

Thomas frowned. He needed a man on the inside who

could control the actions of the National Guard in Osage

County. His plan hinged on it. It would be a tough move.

Strings would have to be pulled. Carefully. He tapped his

fingers on his desk. Where in the blue blazes was Jake

Cooper?

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