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In this girl powered adventure series, can the new girl in town discover the secret of the missing diary before she dies of boredom? Meet Rose, a true city girl who’s not happy when her dad decides to start an organic cheese farm, which transplants her from Manhattan to rural Weston.
The only thing lamer is being forced to take part in a contest sponsored by the Minerva Society for Leadership as a way to “meet people” – but the grand prize is a trip back to New York City. Her teammates in the challenge are Poppy, a science geek, Daisy, a bad girl gamer, and Lily, an overachieving know-it-all. With Daisy and Lily at each others throats and Poppy clueless, Rose figures she’ll have to do it all if she wants to get back to the Big Apple.

We're the GirlMoguls!
We’re the GirlMoguls!

But when she recovers an old diary in the Weston library, the girls soon find they old the key to uncovering a century old mystery.

Can the GirlMoguls figure out how to work together long enough to outsmart the mayor, rival teams for the prize,the sinister Gray Lady and unravel the mystery behind the secret diary? Will they be able to rewrite history and save Hannah?

Ages 10 & Up

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GirlMogul Adventures #1 – How to Rewrite Hannah



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There wasn’t really a book I wanted, though I could always find one. My mom had said once I’d learned to read, I hadn’t stopped. From cereal boxes, to the newspaper, to just about any book that passed through my hands, I felt compelled to read. Lost in a book, I could tune out everything else. My mom could be yelling at me from the other end of the apartment or my sister badgering me with her constant “why” questions, and I would be oblivious to it all if I were lost in a book. It was my second favorite thing to do. After writing. Yet another way I was a lot like my mom. She had been a professor of history at East University in New York City, before she had decided to take her sabbatical. She would have loved this room.

So I paused for a moment, letting my eyes roam over the shelves. I was sure I’d examined them all in my time in the Special Collections Room. The only decent book had been that history of Weston City. It had been filled with photos, tons of remembrances from old-timers, and fun little tidbits about the town, like how a whole valley of farms had been flooded to make room for a reservoir. Legend was the farm families had been forced out as the water rushed in, covering up houses that now sat in watery silence at the bottom of the lake. Creepy. Of course, it was in the same book where I had read about Hiram and Hannah.

My eye caught something new. I reached up, then jerked my hand back. I thought I heard something, like a faint whirring sound. I held my breath and looked around, behind me, and to each side, just to be sure. Nothing. The sound had stopped so maybe I had just imagined it. I put my hand up again and gently placed my index finger on the spine of a book I’d never seen before. Could it be? Something in this section I had missed? It was a slim little book, wedged in tightly on the shelf. I had to use a bit of force to pry it out, but gently, since I could see the leather cover was starting to fray a bit.

The book slid out with a smattering of dust and a small shower of brown leather flakes. Almost as if I thought an alarm would go off, I looked around again. Funny, I couldn’t shake the sense I was being watched. But there was only the sound of my own breathing as I turned the book over in my hands.

It was a reddish-brown volume, with an inlay of faded gold leaf tracing a sunken rectangular design. There was no title on it. Slowly I opened the cover and looked carefully at the first page. It was signed in faded ink, in flowery, old-fashioned lettering. I flipped through a few pages, feeling the corners start to crumble off, seeing more of the same writing. It was a diary.

I couldn’t believe it as I scanned the opening lines. Then my phone alarm beeped, bringing me back to the present with a crashing reality. My grandmother would be waiting, getting very anxious if I didn’t show up on those library steps, like right now. But the book. I needed to keep reading. Quickly I flipped to the back, looking for a library bar code so I could check it out. There was none. I flipped to the front. Had I missed it? No. It simply wasn’t there. My alarm beeped again, urging me to do something.

So then I did something I had never done before. And that’s saying a lot. With a final, quick look around, I slid the slim little volume into my backpack, nestling it carefully between my notebook and an English book, slung the pack over my shoulder, and walked out of the Special Collections Room, along the stacks and down the stairs, as if I had not a care in the world.

Try not to hurry, I thought. I would be very careful with the book, I promised the library gods, and as soon as I read it and told the others about it, I would return it and slip it right back where it belonged. So it wasn’t stealing. Exactly.

I knew I should just ask one of the librarians about it. Maybe it was a simple oversight and the book just needed to be put in the card catalog and a barcode added so I could check it out. But that would take a while, and I didn’t have the time—not with our next meeting tomorrow. And then what if they told me the diary was too delicate and it couldn’t be checked out at all? I couldn’t let that happen.

I let all the justifications run through my head as I entered the library’s main level. Light from the atrium window made oblong shapes on the wood floor. All around, there was a low hum, sounds from people talking over by the computer banks, a yell and a hush by the children’s section, and some laughter from a group of kids sitting at a table and studying.

“So do you have everything you need?” Abby Summers appeared next to me, flashing a smile, and I jumped.

My heart was hammering so fast I didn’t quite know what to say. Look innocent, look innocent, I repeated to myself.

“Umm, yeah,” I mumbled, hoping the less said the better.

“Great,” Abby said. Was it my imagination or were her eyes straying toward my backpack?

“Your back pocket’s open. Better zip it up.” With a wink, Abby reached over and closed the backpack’s pocket with one smooth movement.

I felt my heart stop, felt rooted to the spot.

“Well then, all set. See you tomorrow.”

Abby stood looking at me. Move, I told myself, otherwise Abby would get suspicious. A ping from my phone forced me into action.

“Gotta go,” I said too quickly and broke away, almost running out the doors. I sailed through the library’s security gates without sounding an alarm. The book was safe and undetected. Out in the afternoon light, I saw my grandma waiting at the bottom of the steps, frantically waving at me to hurry it up.

Wow. I’d done it. A small feeling of exhilaration smothered over the fear and any guilt I felt. I couldn’t wait to get home and start reading.

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