She is the mother of a beautiful, talented daughter and amazing twin sons who fill every day with joy and laughter. She is married to her best friend, Michael, the light of her life and her soulmate who shares her dreams and inspires her by reading the first drafts and giving much appreciated critiques. Cheree works as a fulltime author and mother, which is more play than work!
She enjoys reading, traveling to tropical beaches, riding motorcycles, playing the bass for the band Alien Landslide, spending time with her wonderful children, and going on family adventures while planning her next book.
Review: Small Town Superhero by Cheree Alsop - Loren Weaver
Cheree and Michael live in Utah where they rock out in their garage band, enjoy the outdoors, plan great quests, and never stop dreaming. Yes indeed, the man had not even referred to the car as belonging to the person residing in the small townhouse; he had spoken as though the house itself had possession the car. It was this way with everyone. It was the house's walk, the house's garden, the house's porch, and the house's 'buggy'.
The little house held complete ownership of anything located on its property. No one, not a single being throughout the entire town, had ever met or heard from the person whom was claimed by the house as its' resident. Now the town itself was small in size, and big in talk. Everyone knew what old Ms. Thomson thought about Mrs. Smith's new flowerbed. Everyone knew that Mr. Jones and Mr. Greerty had been best friends since high school football.
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Everyone knew that the Johnson's little girl, Stephanie, was soon to be married. And new gossip about the Hendersons, a snooty upper-class family, was coming in every day. The children mimicked their parents throughout the day. While the aforementioned girl pulled herself away from her newest male figure long enough to scowl at the offenders.
No story was of to insignificance, no incident to small, and no account too far-fetched to be relayed amongst these residents as 'facts'.
A general unspoken rule was; you could say whatever you wanted, spread whatever tale you wished, as long as for the life of you, you did not bore your audience! So as it can be assumed, it was of great excitement to the people of the little town when one evening, a second car pulled into the house's driveway. Little Maggie had been the first person to witness the dark-colored station wagon pull up to the house.
She made her way through town, first alerting the ice-cream man, then the grocer, and finally Old Ben the farmer, who was known for his awing sharp-cheddar sandwiches. Within the hour, the entire town had been alerted of the incident. And the single man and two women that Maggie had seen had grown to three burly men, a suspicious-looking Russian woman, and a young hottie. This final add-on had been the idea of a rather plastered Mr.
Smith, who's wife quickly silenced him by knocking him over the back of the head with her purse. Smith in slurred words while his wife jabbed at him with the heel of her shoe.
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Let us just be thankful that little Maggie had not been able to see the single man's face, or the theories would have become dangerously ludicrous, putting the house in risk of being raided by a very angry, and very drunk mob-for it was a Friday night after all—perhaps accompanied by flaming pitchforks. However, back at the door of the house, the Russian spy shrunk to a very fastidious, critical, and lavishly dressed woman.
Smith's 'hottie slice from Heaven' shrunk to a young teenage girl, and the three muscly bodyguards shrunk to a single man, with a very serious and scary-looking skin disease. Just then, the dark mahogany door creaked open, crying out desperately for the need of some WD Krane," welcomed a very stereotypical-looking mad scientist.
Review: Small Town Superhero by Cheree Alsop
He was of average height with brown hair that stuck up shockingly straight from his head. Be sure while you are here not to offend Miss Johnson's pie. She is very touchy about her cooking. If you do not have anything prepared to interest me, then we will be leaving.
Krane, many things that I trust you will be most interested in. If you would please follow me The spiky-haired scientist led the man down a well-hidden and very twisted stairway to an underground lab. The teenage daughter diligently followed her father, with her constantly complaining mother close behind. The scientist led his small group of potential teammates across the lab to a long table filled with a large degree of weapons; some which looked very effective, while others just looked plain silly.
Before he could begin to explain his weapon, however, the other man cut in. My eventual goal is world domination, and unless you have anything more-" the man paused to look, almost humorously, upon the other weapons set on the table. I assure you that once you see this incredible invention, your every wish will be immediately filled! The world's first bionic superhumans! Up on the screen appeared many simulations of three teens, doing inhuman things with their bodies.
Running faster then the speed of sound, lifting objects ten times their size, and moving people and animals seemingly with their minds. The scientist's face immediately shone with happiness, as though this was the highest praise in the world.
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How am I to know that I am not giving being caught up in a con operation? Would you believe me then? He looked around the room until his eyes fell on the wife, who was flicking one of her polished fingernails at an invention. I am not a lab rat for you to run experiments on!
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