The Great Toy War: Summer Camp

Hey, guys! I'm very happy to announce that my newest novel, "The Great Toy War: Summer Camp", is well on its way to being published. So, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I'm proud to reveal to you the cover of the book as well as give you a sneak preview from chapter 20: "Fort Why-I-Oughta"!
Enjoy!

And here is the preview:

Toys dressed in the clothing of the mid-to-late-1800s walked along Main Street. All around him were men dressed in chaps and boots who tipped their hats at each other as they passed. Meanwhile the women who were clad in long dresses and bonnets whispered to each other behind their hands as the Indian and human passed them by. Tommy was surprised by the fact that many of the toys did not have bases under their feet.

Tommy craned his neck in all directions, trying to take in everything at once. They passed a bright red corral which looked like a giant barn. The continual whinny of horses and the lowing of cattle could be heard emanating from the inside. WHY-I-OUGHTA LIVESTOCK Co. was painted in big brightly colored letters on a wooden sign over the entrance through which Tommy met eyes with a white horse standing in its stall. Even though they locked eyes only for a second, Tommy had the immediate feeling that he wanted to ride that horse.

There was another building that was set slightly behind the ones on either side of it with a large fenced-off area in front of it. It was as if the wooden fence were the structure’s arms and it was trying to pull itself forward so that it was in line with the others. A monotonous metallic pounding clearly rang from the fenced-off area, and as they passed Tommy saw an incredibly muscular man steadily slamming a hammer down upon a red-hot piece of plastic.

Tommy tapped Quick-Fox’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t the plastic melt if it got that hot?” he asked, casting glances at the blacksmith. He read the sign nailed to the fence. FORT WHY-I-OUGHTA PLASTICSMITH, it read.

“No,” Quick-Fox answered simply. “Plastic will melt if heated to certain point. But plasticsmith is expert in field. If warmed just right, plastic will be moldable without melting.”

Tommy’s eyes goggled at all there was to see around him. He looked excitedly at the W.I.O. ARMORY where men were walking out with rifles, muskets, pistols, and bandoliers of plastic bullets. He watched as a red-colored cowboy spun the cylinder of a Colt .45 Peacemaker which made a rapid click-click-click noise.

“Newest model,” he said boastfully as a couple of other cowboys gazed upon it with unabashed envy. “Can hit a buffalo straight through the eye at 250 inches.” He expertly spun the gun on his index finger.

“Because it needs to be the size of a buffalo for you to hit it anywhere, Slick; never mind the eye!” one of the men guffawed followed by a chorus of laughter at Slick’s expense who, if it was even possible, looked even more red than before.

Quick-Fox and Tommy trod past the OLDE FORT THEATER. An amazingly intricate hand-carved marquee that advertised a show called PLASTICK IN MOTIONE was suspended over the box-office and front doors.

“C’ain’t wait to see the new show at this here the-a-ter,” a mustached gentleman was saying to a pretty bonneted woman as they walked inside.

“Here’s first stop,” Quick-Fox said, snapping Tommy away from his wandering eyes.

Want to read more? Keep an eye out for "The Great Toy War: Summer Camp"! Coming soon!