A. A. Smith Publishing House

Quality  ·  Creativity  ·  Integrity

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"How did you decide you wanted to become a writer?"
"I didn't, really. I mean, no matter how busy I am with school, friends, family, or work, whenever inspiration hits I have to stop everything to write. If I'm without a computer, then on paper, a Starbucks napkin, even my phone in dire situations. If I go too long without writing, my ideas consume me. I don't know, is that a choice?"

-A. A. Smith


A. A. Smith is a twenty-two year-old author who completed her undergraduate Honours Bachelor's Degre in Psychology at the University of Toronto. She is the partner and co-founder of A. A. Smith Publishing House and is responsible for scouting and reviewing submissions. She is always searching for new talents and enjoys discussing the thoughts and ideas of emerging authors. Be sure to like her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/Alisia.A.Smith, follow her on Twitter @AASPublishing, and keep up with her blog at http://alisiabonnick.wordpress.com/ to stay up to date on new projects and releases!


Current Projects: Aside from promoting "The Perfect Crime" and "Diaspora", Alisia has a couple of completed manuscripts currently in editing cycles. One project is a paranormal romance wherein a teenage girl falls in love with a decider of fate. Suited for his job, he is a cautious romantic, and fears ever having to choose between love and the sanctity of a power entrusted to him by omnipotent forces.

Future Projects: Alisia has begun writing her first series, an adventure series for teenagers based on a teenage spy named Matthew McMillan (yes, another spy series). This story begins with McMillan having been crossed by his ex-partner, accused of being a double agent, and subsequently exiled from his agency. He escapes before his memories are erased and embarks on a quest to clear his name, capture his ex-partner, and evade death in the process.

She is also working on the sequel to her novel "The Perfect Crime".


Check out her audition for Canada's Smartest Person Here ---->

And watch the full episode at: http://www.cbc.ca/smartestperson/


A. A. Smith did an interview with the University of Toronto Scarborough, check it out at: http://the-underground.ca/2014/10/qa-with-alisia-bonnick/

Check out her radio interview on her first novel, "The Perfect Crime".

A. A. Smith has been featured on a CBC community blog (February 2013) as one of 6 inspiring black Canadians! Check out the story here: http://www.cbc.ca/news/yourcommunity/2013/02/black-history-month-todays-community-leaders.html


The Perfect Crime:



Needless to say, none of us were happy. We started getting restless, wanting to leave this place as soon as possible; but we couldn’t.


Not yet.


“He should be here soon,” Sid said, as if that was supposed to calm our nerves. The sun was setting outside the dank and dreary warehouse as the clock, conveniently nailed to the highest wooden plank, struck six o’ clock.


Even Ray, the most laid-back member of our group, was tense.


The breeze settled, rustling a few leaves onto the floor of the open warehouse. The place was empty, except for the five of us who stood, petrified, but more alert today than we had been any other day of our lives.


After a few moments of piercing silence, I sighed. “He’s not gonna show.”


“How do you know?” Cathy asked in a whisper, afraid of being heard by ‘him’.


I conjured the strength and courage to say something I should have said the night I’d first found those files. “He’s one of us.”


The stillness, although not seeming possible, increased dramatically. I glared at the members of our group and found that they were all doing the same. I expected tempers to grow, accusations to fly across the empty air, and anger to rise to an uncontrollable level. Yet, we stood, we stared, and we watched each other as we contemplated. Our eyes threw daggers in every direction, our brains remembering every detail, trying desperately to put the pieces together, to find the missing link.


Then, a sound suspended our innermost thoughts.


The sound of the lone gunshot lingered in the warehouse, taking away the emptiness and giving it a certain depth.


But none of us worried about this new depth, or of the direction in which the bullet had originated, because one of our own had been hit and was now falling, meaning that we had played perfectly into his sick little game, yet again.




“The more you talk about this the more impossible it sounds.”

He shook his head. “Don’t think negatively. I’ve already sent memos to the heads of every one of these organizations.”


“Yes. They’re all going to be ready, they’re all going to have their weapons, and they’re all going to be on Ptolemy. I have the plans; I just need you to communicate them.”

“There’s only one little flaw in your plan: I don’t speak every language in the world.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes you do. You just don’t know it yet. Now c’mon, we have to save Sophie before the real war begins.”

I grimaced and watched as he started walking out of the room. I was about to follow him but glanced briefly at the book on the table. I walked over to it and flipped through the pages, muttering to myself once I’d found what I was looking for.

“Aurelius: Holds one of the strongest powers of all supernatural beings, as well as the most will. He believes in all that is good and pure; destined to perish for the one he loves.”

There was that word again: perish.

“Hey, you coming?” He looked back at me and I let go of the book instantly.

“Yeah,” I walked towards him. “I’m ready.”




The brown-haired bartender smiled seductively in my direction. “What can I get you?”


I tried to hide my disdain. “Rum and coke,” I replied dryly.


My tone must have discouraged him because his smile faded as he turned to prepare my drink.


I heard a low whistle to my right. “That was kinda cold.”


I frowned. I was definitely not in the mood for therapy by the bars local drunk. I’d just about decided to ignore his comment when he spoke again.


“I’ll have you know I only drink on weekends.”


My face dropped and I turned to him as my rum and coke was placed in front of me. He looked no more than two years older than me with a muscular figure and chestnut brown hair.


He had the greenest of eyes… I was temporarily mesmerized before I remembered what had just happened. “W-Why did you say that?” I stammered.


“Say what? That I only drink on weekends?” I nodded. “Well, you were thinking that I was a local drunk and I wanted to inform you that I most definitely am not.”


Okay, so that’s two people in one day who can read minds. I downed half of my drink as he set his in front of him.


His face suddenly grew alarmed. “Two people who could read your mind today?” he clarified.


I nodded again, and then downed the other half.