Press Kit & Books

Author Bio:

Sharon Ledwith is the author of the middle-grade/young adult time travel adventure series, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS, and the teen psychic mystery series, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRY FALLS. When not writing, researching, or revising, she enjoys reading, exercising, anything arcane, and an occasional dram of scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yet busy life in a southern tourist region of Ontario, Canada, with her hubby, one spoiled yellow Labrador and a moody calico cat.
Connect with Sharon Ledwith:

Sharon’s Website: www.sharonledwith.com

Sharon’s Blog: http://sharonledwith.blogspot.com/

Sharon’s Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/seledwith
The Last Timekeepers Series Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/The-Last-Timekeepers-Time-Travel-Series/373953795955372

Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5821744.Sharon_Ledwith

Google+ Page: https://plus.google.com/116758820349834035390#116758820349834035390/posts


The Last Timekeepers YA Time Travel Adventure Series

The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis (Book #1)

Tagline:
Children are the keys to our future. And now, children are the only hope for our past.

Blurb:
When 13-year-old Amanda Sault and her annoying classmates are caught in a food fight at school, they're given a choice: suspension or yard duty. The decision is a no-brainer. Their two-week crash course in landscaping leads to the discovery of a weathered stone arch in the overgrown back yard. The arch isn't a forgotten lawn ornament but an ancient time portal from the lost continent of Atlantis.
Chosen by an Atlantean Magus to be Timekeepers--legendary time travelers sworn to keep history safe from the evil Belial--Amanda and her classmates are sent on an adventure of a lifetime. Can they find the young Robin Hood and his merry band of teens? If they don't, then history itself may be turned upside down.

Excerpt:
Amanda Sault silently studied the words she just scrawled: May 1st, 1214—Games and songs and revelry, act as the cloak of devilry. So that an English legend may give to the poor, we must travel to Nottingham to even the score.
She frowned. She was the Scribe. Amanda knew that meant she was supposed to understand what this riddle meant. But she didn’t have a clue. All she knew was that she, her four annoying classmates, and two offbeat adults were standing in what was left of the lost continent of Atlantis and they were supposed to be the Timekeepers, the legendary time travelers handpicked by destiny to keep Earth’s history safe from evil. But no one had told them how they were supposed to do it.

Their problem: no matter what happened—good or bad—they weren’t supposed to mess with the past. Period. Dot. End of story. Amanda felt hot liquid build in her throat. Her thumb traced the words of the arcane riddle. Their first Timekeeper mission. Amanda knew this wasn’t the end of the story.
This was just the beginning.



Goodreads Book Page: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13613004-the-last-timekeepers-and-the-arch-of-atlantis

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MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING:


Legend of the Timekeepers (Prequel)
Tagline:
There is no moving forward without first going back.
Blurb:
Lilith was a young girl with dreams and a family before the final destruction of Atlantis shattered those dreams and tore her family apart. Now refugees, Lilith and her father make their home in the Black Land. This strange, new country has no place in Lilith’s heart until a beloved high priestess introduces Lilith to her life purpose—to be a Timekeeper and keep time safe.
Summoned through the seventh arch of Atlantis by the Children of the Law of One, Lilith and her newfound friends are sent into Atlantis’s past, and given a task that will ultimately test their courage and try their faith in each other. Can the Timekeepers stop the dark magus Belial before he changes the seers’ prophecy? If they fail, then their future and the earth’s fate will be altered forever.
Excerpt:
“Why are you here?” Lilith asked. “You’ve already got your life seal.”
“I have more questions for Istulo.” She continued to stare at the disk.
Lilith sighed. “My name is Lilith. What’s your name?”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. A hint of a smile broke out on her face. Her upturned nose wiggled. “She-Aba. I was born here in the Black Land. Both my parents arrived from Atlantis fourteen years ago yesterday. My mother gave birth to me the next day.”
Lilith perked up. “That would make today your birthday!”
She-Aba beamed. “Yes. That’s why I’m here. For my birthday last year, I had my life reading done by Istulo. But recently, there’s been a hiccup in my plans. It’s like my life seal rearranged itself, and now I’m confused. I’m here for a reaffirmation.”
“What’s the problem?”
She-Aba traced her life seal with the tip of her perfectly shaped fingernail. “My lifetime occupation was supposed to be to design clothing for the people of the various positions in the court and temples.”
Lilith smirked. “That makes perfect sense.”
“I know, right? So why, all of a sudden, would my life seal change from designing clothing to something completely different?”
Lilith arched a fair brow. “How different?”
“Well, instead of clothing people in lavish robes and gowns for others to appreciate, the seal suggests that I’ll be doing the opposite by covering up and hiding the truth. I don’t understand it at all. I thought my life was all planned out for me.”
“I thought mine was too, until my country blew up and slid into the ocean,” Lilith muttered.
“Hey, look at the bright side, at least your hair isn’t red like mine.”
Lilith eyed She-Aba carefully. “What’s wrong with red hair? My uncle has red hair and it suits him fine.”
She-Aba moved in closer. “If you haven’t noticed already, there aren’t many redheads around here. The natives think red is magical, and anyone with red hair is considered a freak of nature.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Lilith said loud enough to cause an echo down the marble hallway. “Is that the reason why those artists were rude to you? Because you have red hair?”
“Red is a very powerful color,” a raspy voice said from behind both girls.
Lilith and She-Aba jumped. They slowly turned to find Istulo hovering over them.
Wearing the same white gown and orichalcum headband Lilith saw her dressed in before, Istulo nodded slightly before she said, “Red represents the essence of life—if we are drained of blood, we are drained of energy. The people of the Black Land understand this, and therefore red is reserved only for their gods and goddesses.”
Lilith giggled. “Don’t tell She-Aba that, she’ll think she’s a goddess.”

Buy links:

MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING:







 iBOOKSTORE: http://www.ibookstore.com/products.php?i=B010U2IUW2

The Last Timekeepers and the Dark Secret (Book #2)
Tagline:
Only a true hero can shine the light in humanity’s darkest time.

Blurb:
Fourteen year-old Jordan Jensen always considered himself a team player on and off the field, until the second Timekeeper mission lands him in Amsterdam during World War Two. Pulled into the world of espionage, torture, and intolerance, Jordan and the rest of the Timekeepers have no choice but to do whatever they can to stay one step ahead of the Nazis in order to find and protect a mysterious book.
With the help of the Dutch Resistance, an eccentric baron, Nordic runes, and an ancient volume originating from Atlantis, Jordan must learn that it takes true teamwork, trust, and sacrifice to keep time safe from the evils of fascism. Can Jordan find the hero within to conquer the darkness surrounding the Timekeepers? If he doesn’t, then the terrible truth of what the Nazis did will never see the light of day. 
Excerpt:
“I wonder what else is down here.” Drake beamed his cell phone across the basement, hitting jars of jams, pickles, and relishes. His stomach growled.
Jordan pulled the cheese from his pocket and handed it to Drake. “Trade you for your phone.”
“Best. Trade. Ever.” Drake passed his phone to Jordan.
Jordan walked over and grabbed a jar of pickles off the dusty shelf. At least they wouldn’t arrive at the baron’s place hungry. He hoped his uncle had managed to stop Amanda’s bleeding. His hand tightened over the jar, the ridges of the lid cutting into his palm. A scrape from behind the shelves made Jordan jump.
“Hello?” he asked, pushing jars aside. He flashed the cell phone into the small, dark area.
“Who ya talking to, Jordan?” Drake asked with his mouth full of cheese.
“Shhh, Drake.” Jordan listened. Hearing nothing, he shrugged and turned back around.
“I thought I heard—” Jordan stopped and pointed the phone at Ravi. His jaw dropped. “A-Are you serious, Sharma?”
Drake spat out his cheese, snorting with laughter.
“Is there a problem?” Ravi asked, tying the bowtie of his tuxedo.
“You look like a penguin with attitude!” Drake slapped his knee.
“Say what you want, but I’m glad we didn’t hit the cleaners on the way to school now,” Ravi replied, pulling down his sleeves, “or else I wouldn’t have these dry clothes.”
Jordan chuckled. Suddenly, he heard a door creak open, followed by heavy footsteps squeaking down the stairs. Panicking, Jordan stuffed Drake’s phone in his track suit jacket’s pocket and waved Drake over by the shelves. Drake slipped behind Jordan just in time, before the small light bulb above the bottom of the stairs clicked on. Jordan swallowed hard. There, staring directly at Ravi was a portly man in a blood-stained apron. Tufts of blond hair sprouted from the sides of his balding head. His brown trousers were pulled up past his waist, making him resemble an evil garden gnome. In one of his hands, he held a huge butcher knife, its blade flecked with blood.
Wielding the knife, the man pointed at Ravi. “Who are you?”
Ravi licked his thick lips nervously. “The name’s Bond. James Bond.”



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Free short story available as a PDF on my website: 

The Terrible, Mighty Crystal

Tagline:
There is the known and the unknown. And then there is the unknowable.

Blurb:
A rumor around Atlantis whispers that the mighty crystal has the power of resurrection. Fourteen-year-old Shu-Tu believes this to be true and will do whatever it takes to bring her father back from the dead. Recruiting two trustworthy classmates, and with the help of her beloved teacher Thoth, Shu-Tu sets out to change her father’s fate, and right a wrong.

Instructed to meet Thoth at his grotto, Shu-Tu and her friends are forced to flee underground, and must follow the maze of passages to find another way out. There, they come across a baboon-headed human hybrid possessing a rare firestone—one of six harvested from the mighty crystal—which has the power to restore life. Shu-Tu agrees to play the hybrid’s bizarre game to win the firestone, knowing that if she loses, she loses her father forever.

Download link: http://sharonledwith.com/pub/The-Terrible-Mighty-Crystal.html


Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls Teen Psychic Series



Here’s a glimpse of the series overview:

Imagine a teenager possessing a psychic ability and struggling to cope with this freakish power, all the while trying to lead a normal life. Now, imagine being uprooted and forced to live in a small tourist town where nothing much ever happens. It’s bores-ville from the get-go. Welcome to Fairy Falls. Expect the unexpected…

Set in a small northern cottage community, Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls, speaks to many of the important issues facing teens today. With Fairy Falls as the backdrop that glues the series together, each book is a stand-alone project with a different cast of characters, one of whom possesses a unique psychic, supernatural, or prophetic ability.

Lost and Found, Book One:


Tagline:
Fairy Falls was bores-ville from the get-go. Then the animals started talking... 

Blurb:
The Fairy Falls Animal Shelter is in trouble. Money trouble. It’s up to an old calico cat named Whiskey—a shelter cat who has mastered the skill of observation—to find a new human pack leader so that their home will be saved. With the help of Nobel, the leader of the shelter dogs, the animals set out to use the ancient skill of telepathy to contact any human who bothers to listen to them. Unfortunately for fifteen-year-old Meagan Walsh, she hears them, loud and clear.

Forced to live with her Aunt Izzy in the safe and quiet town of Fairy Falls, Meagan is caught stealing and is sentenced to do community hours at the animal shelter where her aunt works. Realizing Meagan can hear her, Whiskey realizes that Meagan just might have the pack leader qualities necessary to save the animals. Avoiding Whiskey and the rest of shelter animals becomes impossible for Meagan, so she finally gives in and promises to help them. Meagan, along with her newfound friends, Reid Robertson and Natalie Knight, discover that someone in Fairy Falls is not only out to destroy the shelter, but the animals as well. Can Meagan convince her aunt and co-workers that the animals are in danger? If she fails, then all the animals’ voices will be silenced forever.

Excerpt: 
“Silly, stupid humans!” Whiskey hissed.
Creeping through the ductwork was becoming harder on her old bones. Layers of dust tickled her pink nose and made her facial whiskers twitch incessantly. Her stomach retched at the stale odors. However, Whiskey, a fifteen-year-old calico cat, ignored these annoyances and persevered. She had to, knowing that she was the only link, the only form of communication, between the cat floor and the dog floor at the Fairy Falls Animal Shelter. This was what made her special, gave her life purpose. This quiet night was no exception.
What the humans called a crisis had happened at the shelter today and Whiskey had to relay this information to the canine pack leader. Nearing the entrance above the dog floor, the thick fur on the back of her neck rose. Some of the dogs she tolerated, some she abhorred. Her ears flattened. Whiskey knew she would have to scale across the top of Mary Jane’s gate in order to get to Nobel’s cage and deliver her report. She also knew to be extra careful not to shake the little bells attached to her red collar that would jingle out her presence. Reaching the opening, Whiskey extracted her long claws and pushed the dusty register aside.
Looking down, she sighed, thankful that Mary Jane, a black and white pit bull terrier, and a long time resident of the shelter, was asleep. Carefully, Whiskey jumped down, balanced on the top of the fenced gate that faced the hallway, and started to slink across it. Then she sneezed and her bells jingled.
A growl and a snort sounded from below. “Who dares to wake me?”
Whiskey peered down. Mary Jane’s eyes were rolled back, her tongue hanging limply out one side of her mouth. A quilted blanket on the cement floor was half-shredded and inches away lay a rubber toy, which would normally be stuffed into Mary Jane’s powerful jaws to exercise the constant frustration of being incarcerated for so long. Whiskey watched Mary Jane lunge for the toy, shaking her thick head and neck in anger.
Whiskey leaned over into the cage and purred, “Someday, I hope you choke on that thing.”
Mary Jane dropped the toy and lunged at the smug cat. Whiskey had just enough time to recoil and land feet first on the hallway’s cement floor. She groaned, feeling her arthritic back legs cave slightly. She was not a kitten anymore, that was for sure. Mary Jane rattled the kennel door, snapping, growling, and barking. Slobber ran down the white patch on her neck and dribbled onto the floor, making it too slippery for her to balance on her hind legs. She slipped and fell with a loud thump and knocked the water bowl, spilling water all over. Whiskey flattened her ears and shook her head. This dog could easily have been the pick of the litter when it came time to receive the sleep needle, but since this shelter had a ‘no kill’ policy in place, all of its residents, including Mary Jane, remained safe and alive.
Suddenly the kennel next to Mary Jane’s came alive and the one after that. Whiskey heard a whimper from the cage down the hall where the new dogs were kept. These were the dogs whose owners would either still rescue them or would condemn them to live here in the shelter until they were adopted by a new human.
“You sure know how to make an entrance, Whiskey.”
Whiskey’s ears pricked up. The right ear had been badly frostbitten once upon a time, but her left ear was still intact. Half her face was masked in black; the other half a mixture of white and orange. The rest of her small body was a patchwork of black and orange fur, with the exception of a white belly. She preened her whiskers, licking the pad of her front right paw until she realized all she tasted was watered down bleach. Cringing, Whiskey slowly sauntered over to Nobel’s kennel—the biggest—at the very end of the hallway. She plopped her bottom on the cool concrete floor and stretched.
“You’re certainly a deep sleeper, Nobel. Are you sure you used to be a watchdog?” Whiskey asked, preening the area above her yellow eyes.
There was a low growl, and then a high pitched bark. It was Nobel’s way of laughing. “I’m part Husky, part Doberman, and part mystery mutt, so sometimes I get all messed up about my job. Do I run as fast as I can or do I stand and fight? It’s darned confounding, I say.”
Although it was dark, Whiskey could see the amusement in Nobel’s light blue eyes. His fur was a mixture of black, tan, and grey, and standing on all fours he would be at least three cats tall. Nobel’s kennel was well-kept, with a thick, comfy blanket set up in front and a pan full of water at the back. He’d been at the shelter for as long as she had, so Whiskey felt a sense of oneness with Nobel, even though he was canine.
“I smell feline! Feline! Feline! Feline!” a dog from the middle cage barked.
Nobel rolled his eyes. “You’re dreaming again, Louis. Go back to sleep!”
Whiskey heard a snort from the big Rottweiler mix, followed by a whine. “Dreaming? Hmm, yup, silly me. Must be dreaming. No felines on the dog floor. Silly me.”
She heard Louis yawn, fart, and then settle back down on his papered floor. Louis tended to pee in his kennel, so he wasn’t afforded the luxury of a cushy blanket like Nobel’s.
“Dumb as wood, that one,” Nobel muttered.
“Yet he trusts you completely,” Whiskey mewed, scratching her chin.
“That’s because I’m the pack leader. It’s not a choice, you know.”




Buy links:

MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING: 





BARNES & NOBLE: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lost-and-found-sharon-ledwith/1126287196?ean=9781987976281

Blackflies and Blueberries, Book Two:


Tagline:
The only witness left to testify against an unsolved crime in Fairy Falls isn’t a person…

Blurb:
City born and bred, Hart Stewart possesses the gift of psychometry—the psychic ability to discover facts about an event or person by touching inanimate objects associated with them. Since his mother’s death, seventeen-year-old Hart has endured homelessness, and has learned ways to keep his illiteracy under wraps. He eventually learns of a great-aunt living in Fairy Falls, and decides to leave the only life he’s ever known for an uncertain future.

Diana MacGregor lives in Fairy Falls. Her mother was a victim of a senseless murder. Only Diana’s unanswered questions and her grief keeps her going, until Hart finds her mother’s lost ring and becomes a witness to her murder.

Through Hart’s psychic power, Diana gains hope for justice. Their investigation leads them into the corrupt world threatening Fairy Falls. To secure the town’s future, Hart and Diana must join forces to uncover the shocking truth, or they risk losing the true essence of Fairy Falls forever.


Excerpt:
For over a year now, Diana had wondered, prayed, and longed for any information regarding her mother’s murder. And now this guy shows up, who claims he has these psychic powers that can communicate with objects. Objects like mom’s ring. Diana pressed her lips together. An object that had been there, at the scene of the crime, a viable witness to a heinous act. It all seemed so far-fetched, so out there. Yet what did Hart have to gain from all this? This wasn’t a fortune telling session, this was real. So was Hart for real?
“Who are you, anyway?” Brook asked. “The sorcerer’s apprentice?”
Hart threw her a strange look. “No. My name’s Hart Stewart. I’m Gertie Ellis’s great-nephew.”
Diana snapped out of her self-induced trance. Gertie Ellis? Not the same Gertie Ellis who was Dan Boone’s only alibi? No. This is all too much. It was information overload to the power of ten. Diana thought she heard Donovan mumble ‘Uh-oh’ as he took a step back. He swung the golf club behind his back, as if anticipating her next move, but Donovan would have never have guessed what was about to happen next, because what came out of her mouth shocked even Diana. “Name your price, I’ll pay you whatever you ask. You can even have my car, if you want it.”
Donovan dropped the golf club.
Brook gasped.
Hart snapped his head back. “Pay me? Pay me for what?”
“To find my mother’s killer,” Diana replied. “Let’s face facts. You’re the only person who has these special psychic connections and no one else has been able to solve her murder. Look, I’ve got all the information on my mother’s murder, I’ve kept impeccable files, know the suspects, and can help you get anything you’d need. What do you say?”
“Your...your car?” Donovan muttered.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Brook asked, concerned.
Diana held her hand out toward Hart. “Do we have a deal?”
Dumbfounded, Hart looked at Diana’s offered hand, then glanced back to her face, searching for a hint of sincerity. He nodded. “I’ll help you, if you help me.”
Startled, Diana arched her thin, fair brows. “Help you? How?”
Hart took a deep breath. “My mother was murdered too. In Toronto, just over a year ago, in our apartment. Nothing was taken. She had no enemies to speak of and we weren’t rich. All I have is a letter my great-aunt kept from when mom was my age. Maybe it will help answer some questions, maybe it won’t.”
Diana nodded. “So what does it say?”
Hart cast his eyes to the ground. His face reddened, his hands balled at his sides. He took another deep breath. “I...I don’t know,” he replied, his voice cracking. “I can’t—”
Diana inclined her head. “Can’t what?”
Hart’s eyes locked with Diana’s. His chin trembled as he whispered, “Read.”
Silence, except for the sudden, chilly gust of wind coming off of the lake.
Donovan broke it. “Dude, did you just that say you can’t—”
“Donovan!” Brook elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t be so insensitive!”
Donovan rubbed his side, and nodded. “Dude, you’re illiterate?”
Brook rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, you bonehead.”
Diana ignored her friends and got straight to the heart of the matter. “Then I’ll teach you to read. We’ll help each other. That way, I’ll get what I want, and you’ll get what you want.”



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