Roxanne Fosch had a perfectly normal life at the age of twelve. Cool, popular, pretty, smart. Her dreams of a perfect, successful and prosperous future seemed well within her grasp.
By the time she was twenty-two she had become a commodity. A fugitive. She was being hunted.
As Roxanne embarks on the dangerous quest to search for half-truths about her past, she discovers she’s not just an abnormal human, but a rarity even among her Fee peers.
She is hunted by scientists, keen to exploit her extraordinary abilities, as well as other beings far more dangerous whose plans for her she cannot fathom
Jina was born and raised in Brazil, where she had a joyful and fulfilling childhood. Soon after she graduated from high school, she was diagnosed with a chronic disease that caused gradual vision loss. She became blind at the age of twenty-three. She has since lived in the United States and Brazil, though currently resides in the middle- east.
Like most authors, Jina had always been an avid reader, a fan of the fantastic, but was denied the joy of books when she became blind. Once she discovered screen readers, she picked up the habit of reading again, but discovered that reading was no longer enough, so she started writing her own book.
When she’s not writing in the Roxanne Fosch series or her blog, she’s writing articles for Conscious talk Magazine, where she works as a columnist.
Aside from the written word, Jina loves to spend time in the kitchen, cooking and baking for her three kids and anyone who happens by.
After re-writing this part twice, I asked myself what the mind would look like for the one controlling it?
The answer? Like a network of lights. The stronger the memory, the brighter the light would be.
Some thoughts and memories are stronger than others, so some lights would be brighter. And still, some thoughts and memories touch on our emotions. Wouldn't a brilliant red light be perfect for a memory that sparks rage?
Heir of Ashes
The mind was a beautiful thing. A sea of lights, contrasting everywhere with shadows and colors, some like a dot on a map—barely significant, others shining as brilliant as the sun.I didn’t go for his memories, his thoughts, his knowledge. I ignored the lights, the darkness, the shadows and colors. As I traversed through, I caught glimpses of the memories I came closest.