About this item
The Sisterhood: a group of women from all walks of life bound by friendship and a quest for justice. Armed with vast resources, top-notch expertise, and a loyal network of allies around the globe, the Sisterhood will not rest until every wrong is made right. Now in their 29th adventure, the Sisterhood team up to find a gifted but neglected child the home he deserves. Isabelle Flanders Tookus isn't expecting to involve the Sisterhood in a new mission when she strikes up a friendship with a curly-haired boy in her local park. Ben Ryan is eight years old, sweet, funny, and smarter than most adults--a child genius, in fact. He's also in much deeper danger than he realizes. Ben is the grandson of millionaire Eleanor Lymen, who hired Izzy years ago to design an institute for gifted children. Ben's mother passed away and Ben now lives with his stepfather, Connor, and Connor's wife, Natalie. Yet as Izzy soon learns, Ben's home life is far from happy. Connor and Natalie are constantly fighting. They've been using Ben's trust fund to support their lavish lifestyle while shamefully neglecting Ben. And with Natalie getting greedy, Ben's safety is now in jeopardy. Izzy's first step: call in the Sisterhood. The second: track down Eleanor, who has mysteriously vanished on a secret mission of her own, trying to right an old wrong. Izzy, Annie, Myra, and the rest of the Sisters come together at Pinewood, thrilled to be united once more. Together they'll lay a trap for Natalie and Connor, one that will protect Eleanor's beloved grandson, get him into the happy home he deserves, and provide the kind of creative, satisfying payback the Sisters dish out so well...
About the Author
Fern Michaels isn't a person. I'm not sure she's an entity either since an entity is something with separate existence. Fern Michaels® is what I DO. Me, Mary Ruth Kuczkir. Growing up in Hastings, Pennsylvania, I was called Ruth. I became Mary when I entered the business world where first names were the order of the day. To this day, family and friends call me Dink, a name my father gave me when I was born because according to him I was 'a dinky little thing' weighing in at four and a half pounds. However, I answer to Fern since people are more comfortable with a name they can pronounce. As they say, the past is prologue. I grew up, got a job, got married, had five kids. When my youngest went off to Kindergarten, my husband told me to get off my ass and get a job. Those were his exact words. I didn't know how to do anything except be a wife and mother. I was also a voracious reader having cut my teeth on The Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, Cherry Ames and the like. The library was a magical place for me. It still is to this day. Rather than face the outside world with no skills, I decided to write a book. For some reason that didn't intimidate me. As my husband said at the time, stupid is as stupid does. Guess what, I don't have that husband any more. Guess what else! I wrote 99 books, most of them New York Times Best Sellers.Moving right along here . . . Several years ago I left Ballantine Books, parted company with my agent, sold my house in New Jersey that I had lived in all my married life and in 1993 moved to South Carolina. I figured if I was going to go through trauma let it be all at one time. It was a breeze. The kids were all on their own at that point. The dump was a 300 year old plantation house that is listed in the National Registry that I remodeled. Today it is beyond belief as are the gardens and the equally old Angel Oaks that drip Spanish moss. Unfortunately, I could not get my ghost to relocate. This ghost has been documented by previous owners. Mary Margaret as we call her, is "a friendly". She is also mischievous. It took me two weeks to figure out that she didn't like my coffee cups. They would slide off the table or counter or else they'd break in the dishwasher. I bought red checkered ones. All are intact as of this writing. She moves pillows from one room to the other and she stops all the clocks in the house at 9:10 in the a.m. at least once a week. When the Azaleas are in bloom, and only then, I find blooms on my night stand. I have this glorious front porch and during the warm months I see my swing moving early in the morning when the air is still and again late in the day. She doesn't spook the dogs. I always know when she's around because the five of them line up and look like they're at a tennis match. As of this writing we're co-habiting nicely.Most writers love what they do and I'm no exception. I love it when I get a ge
