As publisher of the award winning imprint, Laura Geringer Books, editor, story advisor, teacher and writer, Laura Geringer Bass has collaborated with many celebrated authors and artists in the field of children’s books. She has worked with numerous publishing houses and entertainment studios including HarperCollins, Simon and Schuster, Scholastic, Houghton Mifflin, Hyperion/Disney, Dreamworks, Fox, and CBS. She develops picture books, illustrated novels and YAs in partnership with Shannon Associates LLC a global talent agency representing over 200 writers and artists worldwide. She teaches writing workshops privately and at the JCC and is a faculty member of New York Writer’s Workshop (NYWW), an instructor for Prison Writes serving teens at risk through New York City's Administration for Children’s Services' Close to Home program (ACS), and a mentor for Girls Write Now. Laura is the author of twenty books for children including the bestselling A THREE HAT DAY, an ALA Notable Book illustrated by Arnold Lobel, a Top Ten featured selection on LeVar Burton’s Reading Rainbow. Her YA fantasy, SIGN OF THE QIN, an ALA Best Book was shortlisted for the Printz award. MYTH MEN, her popular series of graphic novels was adapted by CBS as an animated TV show. Her love of story informs her service on the board of First Book, a non-profit organization that has delivered over 150 million books into the hands of children in need. Her new novel for middle graders, THE GIRL WITH MORE THAN ONE HEART, is due out from Abrams on April 17, 2018. 
Excerpt
The image of Romeo slumped on the stage floor seared itself into my brain.
The play was over and the audience had leapt to its feet, roaring and clapping with thunderous ovation. That’s when I began to cry. Not the tears-running-down-your-face, wipe-them-away-so-no-one-notices crying, but the embarrassing I-wish-I-wasn’t-in-public crying. More like the loud hiccups-of-air, unstoppable type of crying. My vision blurred, nose ran, chest heaved, and my breaths came in short, labored pants.
The chattering crowd filtered out of the theater while I remained with my head swirling with visions of my mother’s funeral, Maggie having a cocktail at lunch, and Romeo falling to the ground in front of me. I wept for perfect love, life lost, broken hearts, perfect books, Shakespearian prose, and...
“I know I’m a great actor, but really…”
I couldn’t bring myself to lift my head.
“What’s the matter?”
A hand squeezed my shoulder.
Without a thought, I stood up and threw my arms around him. “Maggie Monroe’s dead.”
He held me with the strength a woman yearned for when she was weak. I pressed my whole body against his, lost in his warm, protective embrace.
“I know it feels like we’ve known each other forever, but remind me again, who’s Maggie Monroe?”
I pushed back from him, collecting myself. This was like dealing with an entirely different person from the guy on the elevator. “I’m sorry. I got a call right before the show. My friend died, and then watching you die onstage—”
His forehead wrinkled in concern, and he rubbed my cheek and looked at me like Juliet was nothing more than a damp washcloth compared to me. The look only lasted for a split second. “Let’s duck out the back door and go for a drink. You can tell me all about it.” He snagged my hand and tugged us away from the main exit.
“Shouldn’t you go to the lobby? Your fans—”
“No worries.” Backstage, he grabbed a duffel bag, and we hailed a cab with him still sporting his full Romeo regalia.
“I’m in a cab with Romeo,” I said, checking my mascara-streaked face in a compact. “I never want to watch you die onstage again.”
His smile was a tad cocky as he winked at me. “I’ll promise you no such thing. I’m a Shakespearian actor. Sword scenes and dying on stage is my gig. But let’s make a pit stop at our building so I can change.”
When the cab stopped, he looked at me. “Want to split this?”
I shook my head and paid the cabbie. He jumped out and never turned around to give me a hand. But I didn’t mind.
We pushed through the revolving doors one right after the other into the lobby of the condo. A man heaved a deep sigh then slumped over, holding his head in his hands on one of the sofas in our lobby.
I stopped cold. It was my brother, Pete, surrounded by mounds of suitcases. “Uh-oh. That’s my brother.”
Romeo—whose real name I now realized I didn’t know—gave me a flourished bow. “I’ll go change my clothes and let you two talk. When I come back down, you can decide if you still want to have that drink.” With a wink, Romeo turned and headed for the elevators.
Moving as quickly as I could without breaking an ankle, I hurried over to Pete. “What happened?” I asked.
My brother looked like hell. His unshaven face, ratty T-shirt, and dirty jeans gave him a slept-in-his-car look. His dirty blond hair was disheveled, and the normally arched eyebrow that preceded his snide remarks drooped with the rest of his body. Even though he was only three years my senior, he looked like a well-worn forty rather than his normal, meticulously groomed thirty.
“Sarah kicked me out.” His face was still buried in his hands. “I just called Dad. He’s on his way down.”
