#writing for sales

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

[persuasivepen]

The Best Use of Your Time: Focus on What You Do Best

One of the biggest challenges my clients face when it comes to creating great content and marketing copy it that they just don't have the time to half-assed do something as important as their marketing.

That's where I can help.

I know you’re busy.

As a small business owner, you’re juggling a million tasks, and marketing often takes a back seat.

Imagine freeing up your time by handing off your marketing and copywriting headaches to someone who understands how to craft content that connects, converts, and builds relationships with your customers. Instead of worrying about getting the copy right, you can focus on running your business and serving your customers.

[mournfulroses]

Mehdi Akhavan-Sales, from “The Ghazal,” written in August 1966

[monzamash]

★ last chance; long live the inbox graveyard! —i pick a long forgotten request in my inbox and write a short blurb or musings

hot tub time machine lando norris x you —no warnings, just fluff "could we get a number 14 (pool/hot tub sex) with lando pleaseeee? so excited that you’re writing again!!" —requested by anon on october 8th, 2024

“happy birthday, sweetheart...”

“i really needed this," he sighed, "knowing i would be home with you for this was the only thing getting me through the last few of weeks.”

lando could feel every single ache and pain wash away as he slid into the hot tub, stomach full of the gorgeous italian spread you’d ordered for dinner. his favourite. he swore you were an angel sent to earth, everything you did for him was heavenly, he could never find the words to tell you how much he loved you.

“you look so happy lan,” you smiled, dropping the kimono you’d worn during dinner as lando’s eyes cast across your body, luring you into the tub.

“i’m very happy - especially when i get to enjoy all of this… c’mere pretty girl.”

a soft giggle slipped from your lips as you grasped his hand, "let me get a bottle of red wine for us to share and i'll join you — do you wanna open the one daniel gave you?"

"ooo, are we entering that portion of the night?" lando asked suggestively as you stood up, shooting him quizzical look.

"what do you mean?" you asked earning a loud laugh from the tub, water splashing a little as lando pulled himself up to the edge, smiling over at you with a look you knew all too well.

"as soon as you start on the red wine, you get so frisky," he stated as if it was a well-known fact, one that you certainly weren't aware of.

"i do not!" you staunchly defended, earning another loud scoff.

"oh, wow," lando laughed, "yes, you do baby and i'm not complaining so crack her open..." he teased as you carefully stepped into the tub, with lando's help of course, eyes still narrowed in annoyance.

"okay so maybe wine makes me a little more amorous than usual but i think i'm just like that when i drink, no?" you pouted, earning yourself a pity kiss from the birthday boy.

"red wine makes you horny and that's okay," he teased again with a cheeky smirk on his face as you handed him the stemmed glass, "ta."

"we'll see then, won't we," you tutted, pouring two glasses of wine while lando chuckled to himself.

"i already know what's gonna happen but sure," he baited with a wink as he slowly dunked his head under the water and emerged with a shake of his wild curls, sending water flying across the room and all over you.

"you are so sure of yourself tonight."

lando's eyes skimmed across your body briefly while you claw-clipped your hair up, not wanting the hassle of having to dry it before going to bed. secretly you knew where the night was headed, red wine or not— it was his birthday after all, but you weren't about to admit that to the man hypnotised by your every move, jaw slack from the glorious view of your cleavage.

lando was a simple man.

"well, i am the birthday boy after all so i reserve the right to be cocky once a year, yeah?" he taunted from the other side of the tub.

"yeah, only once a year..." you rolled your eyes humorously.

the distance between the two of you seemed too far for lando, so he sculled the rest of his drink and carefully placed the glass on the floor before giving you a mischievous smile.

"steady on, party boy," you chuckled as he leaned forward and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his warm hold.

"i just want to focus all of my attention on you," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your clip, his emerald irises darted over your face, finally resting on yours.

"i missed you a lot, you know."

you took that as an invitation to straddle his lap and rest your elbows over his shoulders, wine glass dangling from your fingers. lando smoothed his hands down your back and and pressed fiery kisses across your chest. his lips travelled back up your neck, along your jaw before finding your soft lips in a slow, passionate kiss. you moved in sync with him, bringing one of your hands up to trawl through his wet, tangled curls. the chlorine always got the best of them.

lando hummed quietly into the kiss before pulling back slightly, "this is the best birthday i've ever had... and i couldn't be more in love with you," he confessed as you took the chance to admire the sweet boy you'd chosen to share your life with.

you grasped his face gently between your hands and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, making sure he knew just how much you loved him, no matter what life threw your way.

"i love you too, darling... happy birthday."

a/n — the first of the end of (f1) season sale!! this hot tub request actually wasn't forgotten, just half-baked so thank you anon for sparking up the inspiration to finally finish it! hope you enjoyed it 😌

[ominouspuff]

Kote’s House

Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about. 

His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.

He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.

He tries to explain how wonderful it is —

“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”

—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.

Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.

Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.

“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.

“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.

He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids. 

They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time. 

Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?

Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical. 

“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.

Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.

Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.

“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept). 

“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”

Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”

Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.

He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are. 

What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.

Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.

Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that. 

He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.

“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him. 

“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.

He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill. 

“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving. 

Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.

[thehopefulquotes]

Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don’t know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn’t you. That isn’t you at all.

Leila Sales

[stay-close]

Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don’t know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn’t you. That isn’t you at all.

Leila Sales

[goddessashbbw]

55% OFF FANSLY SALE FAST FIRST 100 PEOPLE

[perfectquote]

Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don’t know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn’t you. That isn’t you at all.

Leila Sales

[thoughtkick]

You think it’s so easy to change yourself. You think it’s so easy, but it’s not. True, things don’t stay the same forever: couches are replaced, boys leave, you discover a song, your body becomes forever scarred. And with each of these moments you change and change again, your true self spinning, shifting positions– but always at last it returns to you, like a dancer on the floor. Because throughout it all, you are still, always, you: beautiful and bruised, known and unknowable. And isn’t that―just you―enough.

Leila Sales, This Song Will Save Your Life

[foldingfittedsheets]

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[tathrin]

I see a lot of stuff with Gimli losing his temper and Legolas having to hold him back from charging in axe-first at whatever has angered him (sometimes even picking him up to stop him) and admittedly I love this!

But also consider: almost every time somebody offends or insults Gimli in the books, his reaction is along the lines of declaring “I would take offense at your words, save that you are too ignorant to know how wrong they are” in I assume just the most refined, lofty voice you can imagine.

Whereas Éomer threatens Gimli one (1) time in front of Legolas and our Mirkwood madlad is immediately ready to throw-down with half* of Rohan’s army.

I’m saying what I would like to see more of is Legolas losing his temper, and Gimli being the cool-headed half of the pair that has to hold his lanky longshanks boyfriend back from doing a murder.

How about some more of that please, fandom?

[surqrised]

Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don’t know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn’t you. That isn’t you at all.

Leila Sales

[monzamash]

★ bargain bin; —send me a driver + prompt/dialogue starter and i'll write a tiny musing for you

loosen up charles leclerc x you —18+ (sex, mature themes, coarse language) —requested by @tlhd7 (absolute gem) and lovely anon 💖

you knew you were done the second you saw ferrari’s usgp liverly on instagram. the little slither of black peeking out of the collar of charles’ suit already conjuring up wild, wild thoughts. none of them holy. charles looked good in black, that was a well known fact — whether he was wearing a tuxedo or even lounging around in a simple black shirt he looked hot. and although he exuded sunshine energy most of the time, there was a darkness that you enjoyed about him. vexed and flustered charles turned you on.

once you had confirmation from your boyfriend that they were indeed wearing black fireproofs this weekend, the decision was final. you were flying out to texas because nothing was going to stop you from indulging in your greatest fantasy — jet lag who? and nobody was going to stop you from slinking into charles’ drivers room while he prepped for practice. absolutely nobody.

“knock knock…” you playfully greeted, causing charles to glance over from where he was perched on his physio bed. 

“well hello, mon ange… who let you in?” he teased back with a smirk and placed his phone on the table beside him.

“andrea did because i’m actually here to do your warm up massage… fred thought it was really important to get a professional in to make you feel good.” 

charles' soft smile dropped into a devilish smirk, eyes narrowing with desire as soon as his mind registered what you were saying. he liked to roleplay a little, especially on the road when everything felt so serious and tiresome — he loved a sprinkle of spiciness added to the mix and who better to bring it than the woman of his dreams.

“oh well don’t let me stop you, ma’am,” he rushed before laying back down on his front, smiling from ear to ear and giggling into the face hole.

“thank you, sir — i’ll get started on your back first… making sure all those hard knots are worked out before your race,” you stated, brushing your hands down the expanse of his clothed back. the black mesh felt smooth against your palms as you moved them up and down in long strokes, "how's that pressure?”

“incredible but you can be harder if you like,” charles mumbled, his eyes closed while he enjoyed the feeling of your touch. 

“oh, it’s gonna be hard, mr. leclerc — please be patient.” 

you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh into your shoulder — every time you played a character, you struggled to keep it together but eventually the insecurity of it all slowly dissipated as you focused back in. 

you thumbed the hem of his fireproof top and dragged it gently up his back, exposing the tanned skin that beautifully complimented the black fabric, all taut and soft and sprinkled with freckles. each muscle danced under your fingertips as you carefully traced the marks you’d left the night before — the remnants of your reunion making every nerve in your body tingle from the memory. the frenzied fingernail tracks were red, but fading and you could tell charles liked the feeling of your cool palms grazing them by the soft, nearly inaudible moan that slipped from his pursed lips.

“feel good?” you asked, smirking to yourself.

“amazing.” he practically groaned in response. 

“i’ll get you to turn over now so we can shift focus to your front.”

it didn't take long for charles to scurry up and flip over onto his back. he looked like a kid entering a candy store, all wired and wide eyed from what was on offer, and the promise of a sweet treat at the end. you rubbed your hands together and pushed his shirt up a little further before working your hands across his tight abdomen and over his chest, spending a little extra time on the perked nipples that always got his engine revving. to balance out the moans of pleasure, you ghosted your fingertips down his ribs, causing a high pitched giggle to erupt from the man below, immediately cutting the tension bubbling up.

“very ticklish there, ma’am — go lower please…” 

“oh, do you feel tight down here?” you asked innocently while unzipping his suit a little further down his hips.

“very tight - bit lower than that… lower… lower,” charles’ voice grew quieter the closer you got to where he ached until your hand gently grasped his hard cock, “ah, yes - right there,” he sighed. 

you stroked him through the black fireproof trousers, the fabric bunching as your hand worked him over, “ah, i see… very stiff in this area — try to relax for me, charles.” 

the sound of his name falling sultrily from your mouth as you worked him in your hand had him moaning into his arm that had instinctively come up to cover his mouth. the walls of his drivers room were thin, so thin that you’d been told more than once to keep it down. it never stopped you — in fact, maybe it even encouraged the exhibitionist streak you two had. 

through the soft moans, charles eventually grasped consciousness and came up for air - he loved watching you get him off, almost as much as he enjoyed returning the favour. everything about you set him alight — your eyes, your voice and the way you studied every little twitch on his face while you made him feel good.

slowing slightly, you pensively looked down at your hand and tutted, “i think i may need to use some kind of lubrication to really get these stiff knots out…” 

charles eagerly nodded, “do whatever you need to do.”

“as long as you’re sure…” you stated cautiously, peeling down his fireproofs and underwear in one foul swoop, “is it okay if i use my mouth? i think it could really help.” 

a gutteral moan vibrated in charles’ throat as his head lulled back in disbelief, “fuck… i mean, yes- yes, yes, yes, yes.” 

it never took long to have him exactly where you wanted him — you always started with a tiny kitten lick to his tip, your tongue would travel down to the base and back up before taking him fully in your warm mouth. before too long, he was sitting upright and pulsating down the back of your throat with his fingers loosely grasping the back of your head for dear life, needing something, anything to hold onto while you had him seeing stars. his other hand was pressed so hard to his mouth that when you stood up and wiped your lips, you could see a red hand print left in its wake. 

“are you feeling looser now, mr. leclerc?” you teased and massaged his shoulders once more with a smirk lining your swollen lips. 

“oh my god stop or you’ll make me hard again,” charles groaned and pulled you into a passionate kiss, “you will be the death of me eventually, sweet girl.”

a/n— please don't ask me to define "tiny" because this is over 1k words lol i got carried away because i haven't written for charles in a loooong time and these two requests were way too good not to combine! i have no chill. shop the sale event here !!

[resqectable]

Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don’t know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn’t you. That isn’t you at all.

Leila Sales

[deoidesign]

I spent months prepping books and running a Kickstarter, and it's going great! But...

I just got 300 books with the wrong type of cover. They're glossy!!!

There's nothing else wrong with them! I'll be getting the matte covered books that match the set soon, but in the meantime I have 300 extra glossy books.

SO!!!

If you would like a book, the glossy covered copies are going to be $15 instead of $25!!!

If you're okay with the book cover not matching the set, or you're interested in trying the series out, then this is the best place to start! Each book is self contained, so you won't be missing out by starting with the second book.

This is the fan favorite book from the series, so it's a great one to pick up.

Time and Time Again: Summer Camp Cowabummer Volunteering as counselors at a summer camp facing closure, Adam and Steve must manage their campers and the mysterious problems at the camp.

You can buy it here!