"Haworth effectively captures the self-consciousness, self-absorption and limited experience of a preteen, and the seductive charms of Facebook friendships for that age.
Realistic, modern and still familiar, this is a middle school story both children and their parents should read."
- STARRED Kirkus Review
"Fresh, quirky outlook, peppered with wryly humorous observations."
"A highly readable tale about the need to achieve (and maintain) acceptance, sometimes against nearly impossible odds. For kids who are “new,” the very personable Joshua is a potential lifeline.
But Haworth also explores the hopeless side of being different through various characters: Joshua’s dog, Jack; the socially inept Alan Prater; and a young Vietnam vet, newly returned home."
- Historical Novel Society
"Full of sass."
"Will bring tears to even the hardest of hearts"
"Intrigue, suspense, humor, and folklore"
-Barbara O'Connor, award winning author
© 2021 by Danette Haworth
I hate tomatoes. The year 2005 was supposed to be the year I Ate A Tomato, but I Did Not Do It. I don't like mushrooms either, but if they are chopped up small enough, I can ignore them.
Pink and purple are my favorite colors, but sometimes I like green.
I am a good skater, and fast too. In fact, I used to have my own custom skates with racing wheels—that's how fast I skate. When I thought I was a grown-up, I gave my skates away. That was a mistake. I could still use them.
Growing up in an Air Force family, I have lived in a lot of places, and I can tell you that the best place to be is in the woods or on the mountains. It is even better if your best friend is with you and you build a fort. My best friend and I built a pretty good fort once, but my sister and her best friend built a better one. It doesn't even bother me to say that.
At six-years-old, I published my own comic book series starring Peter Pan. He jumped into adventure, narrowly missing capture and certain death by his arch enemy, Captain Hook. Most pages featured a green stick figure sword-fighting with a red stick figure. Still, it was pretty good for a six-year-old.
I wrote a lot of stories in junior high, high school, and college, and my teachers seemed to like them. I liked it when they read my stories out loud and my classmates laughed in all the right places. There is nothing like that feeling.
If I wasn't a writer, I'd own a diner and call it Netti's. It would be small—you'd probably pass it if you drove by too fast—but my regulars would be loyal. “Try the sweet potato loaf,” they'd tell each other. “It is to die for!”
If you want, you can call me Danette. Here's how you say it: d'NET or DihNET. Some people confuse this with “dinette,” which is actually a table. (You can tell the difference because I do not have four legs and I am not a table.) If you forget, don't worry. People have called me Jeanette, Janet, Denise, Danita, Danielle, and Darnet. So even if you say it wrong, I will still turn around and smile and say “Hi,” especially if you are holding a donut.