I created a “Bookish Lifestyle” channel, Cozies and Classics, where I share the books I’m reading, my writing journey, and cozy lifestlye vlogs. Follow me here: https://www.youtube.com/@Coziesandclassics
Check out some of my five star reads here: https://bookshop.org/lists/five-star-reads-cozies-classics?
WRITING
One of my greatest passions in life is writing- it’s incredibly fulfilling for me to create a story completely from scratch- and then have those words bound and read by others!
In August 2019, I published my first book, “Crossing Worlds,” which is available on Amazon.
You can check it out here: https://www.amazon.com/Crossing-Worlds-Allison-L-Grosik/dp/1095287974/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1LKK0XFACABWD&dchild=1&keywords=crossing+worlds+allison+grosik&qid=1599577354&sprefix=crossing+wor%2Caps%2C172&sr=8-1
“Crossing Worlds” was written with a YA audience in mind, but it is appropriate for all ages.
In a world just a portal away from ours lives Evie, a sweet and timid princess who is struggling to cope with the king’s failing health, the cruel queen’s increasingly sour mood, and ten years of lost memories. News from a messenger brings her even more confusion and causes her to wonder- is the queen even worse than she thought? When Evie discovers what the first ten years of her life held, she sets out on the adventure of a lifetime to set her world and ours right.
“Crossing Worlds” is a breath of fresh air! I would say it’s best for a middle school audience, but the story is one that all will enjoy. There is nothing inappropriate; it’s just a good old fashioned story filled with action, adventure, and a touch of romance. There are many surprises along the way, especially the ending!
This book is truly a refreshing read. Appropriate for middle school age and up and adults will definitely enjoy it as well. I love that the story is full of adventure and fantasy and a little romance – but without a big, contrived romantic plotline to make you roll your eyes at the end. Many self-published books I’ve read are so full of typos that it makes them difficult to read, but this is not one of them. Just a good old-fashioned story that will keep you turning pages the whole way through.
I found “Crossing Worlds” to be a heart-warming tale spun so that any age could identify with some of its mystical treasurers. This spirited book offers you the chance to reflect and be thankful for what you have. Be ready to take yourself on an adventuresome reading journey in “Crossing Worlds,” a clean-cut magical expedition for anyone.
I am currently working on a few books, including a novel and a couple of ghostwriting projects.
Get a first look at “The Butler” here:
2020
“Tickets? Tickets?” the pimply teenager asked, his pale greasy mop not quite matching the neatly pressed uniform he wore.
Jim passed by the boy, who he knew was named Kevin but called “K-MAN.” Capitals were necessary when writing his name, because it always seemed to be screamed.
His heavy metal bandmates liked to poke their heads in the main door of the grand house where their friend was stationed as ticket-taker and make fun of him for earning minimum wage but having to dress like a businessman from the 1930’s, the same light grey plaid suit and whimsical tie every day. The current owners of the house wanted their employees to look sharp and authentic to the time the house thrived but were unwilling to put too much of their own money forward. Dry cleaning was on the workers.
Jim gave his typical, gentlemanly nod to Kevin (he insisted on calling him by his birth name, even if it wasn’t what he wanted), but as usual, the boy ignored him. Kevin gave a shiver out of nowhere and looked to see if a window was open, but was soon distracted by his lead singer bounding up the steps, two at a time.
“K-MAN!” he blurted, managing to speak at a high volume while sucking in air. “Dude- Jaz is SICK! We aren’t going to be able to play tonight at The Hog. I’m freaking pissed; that was such a big gig for us.”
“Chill out, Chase,” Kevin muttered, casting an uneasy glance at an elderly woman who was looking irritated that the quaint spell of the house had been broken by the heavy metal screecher, er, singer. “We’ll figure it out; maybe we can find a replacement guitarist by tonight.”
“Dude are you freaking STUPID? Where are we going to find someone by TONIGHT? We’re totally fu-I mean SCREWED!” Chase felt the glare of the woman boring through him and began backing down the steps. Kevin took a quick glance around for another employee, and, seeing that he was in the clear, followed his bandmate out of the house to continue the conversation away from judging ears.
“Kids these days; no respect,” Jim muttered to the woman, who harrumphed off to begin the tour in response.
He followed her, thinking that no one these days had respect. Jim lingered at the back of the tour; he had listened to the spiel many times before, but he enjoyed hearing what spin the guides put on their stories, all of them dripping with so many falsities, he had to laugh. But the man never corrected the guides. They wouldn’t listen to him anyway.
“Welcome to the Hannigan Estate,” Jeff, the thirty-something, slightly unfortunate looking, guide was saying. Jim liked Jeff the most, that’s why he had decided to come on his tour today. He felt for him. It was a difficult time to have a master’s degree in history, and Jeff was still looking for his big break. He had a YouTube channel on the side, where he talked about his favorite moments in history. It wasn’t bad- Jim had caught a glance of Jeff doing some editing on his lunch break. Maybe one day he could do what he loved full time, but for now, he was stuck giving tours in this old house.
“Let’s make our way through the entryway,” Jeff was saying. “There’s nothing of too much importance to note here.”
Jim smiled to himself. The guide couldn’t be more wrong. But how was he to know?
Fall, 1910
“James Arthur Butler!” the boy looked up to see his father bearing down on him, a deep frown on his face. The man was only in his early forties, but he had such a permanent scowl that he had the wrinkles of one who was at least in their sixties. It was thoughts like these that allowed James to mentally survive his father’s lectures.
“What in God’s name are you doing? I told you to never waste your time with these silly womanly things again.”
The boy sighed. His father would scream and wave his arms about, but eventually he would go away and James could get back into his zone. He started to turn away from his father, but apparently the man was in a worse mood than usual. He grabbed his son’s paints, opened the bedroom window, and dumped them out onto the street, much to the surprise of the chickens below, who had a much easier time talking back to the man than his son did.
James gaped at his father, shocked at his actions. Brand new paints, a gift from his mother for his thirteenth birthday. He had just begun working on a portrait of his tabby cat, Gus, who thankfully was lazy enough to sit still for hours at a time.
“This is not how you should be spending your time,” his father snarled. “Why can’t you act like every other boy your age and go look at the new cars down the road or go hunting or anything other than sit in your room and…paint your cat.” He stared at the painting with the utmost disgust.
“Mother thinks I’m good at it,” James said quietly. “Maybe one day I’ll be as good as her.”
“Your mother is a woman! What are you going to take up next? Knitting?”
The boy shrugged his shoulders. He did in fact want to learn how to knit. He liked the idea of being able to make clothes.
This was apparently not the reaction his father was hoping for. The man’s eyes threatened to bulge out of his head, and he stormed out of the room, slamming the door on the way, and screaming for his wife.
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