Safe by Dawn Husted

Dawn’s Biography:

Dawn Husted resides in Texas with her husband, two toddlers, two dogs and a rescued cat named Kitty. She’s always around nature, including the crazy squirrels stealing food from birds in her backyard. Her passion for reading grew after she graduated college and started writing for fun. Her appetite produced many short-stories and books until finally, SAFE was born. The dystopian read is her first novel, but not her first time writing science-fiction. Her favorite books to read and write are all located in the young-adult section.

What makes this book different?

BOOK: SAFE by Dawn Husted

The basis for how the apocalypse happened is new and refreshing for readers that enjoy these types of books. It’s not a story re-done over and over. And it’s not too terribly long, or short, about 56000 words.

Why write the story?

For years now, I’ve loved most shows and books regarding post-apocalyptic fiction. My notion of writing something within that genre grew immensely over the past year. The concept of zombies is intriguing, but I wanted the story to focus on a different future where zombies never existed (though, the word is mentioned once in a short scene). Most of all, I wanted SAFE to be a story that teenagers would find interesting and relatable as if the situation Penny found herself in could happen to them.

It’s a young-adult novel, and I hope readers enjoy it!


SAFE can be found on Amazon & Barnes and Noble.

Dawn Husted

How can readers connect with Dawn?

I would love for readers to visit me at any of the addresses below.







SAFE excerpt



I finished my last drop of oatmeal and went back for more when the weather began changing. The humidity sucked away into the clouds above and the fog vanished. Tips of trees bent from wind gusting about; leaves and dirt tossed in circles like dozens of tiny cyclones.

My empty bowl was in my hands and I looked up in the sky. In the near distance, large, gray clouds were rolling in. Just then, the table holding the bowls fell over from the weight of the wind thrusting against it, utensils scattering across the ground and crashing against the dirt.

Lowers scrambled, picking up bowls and pots and moving the breakfast into a tiny, nearby house.

The storm was moving swiftly, ghastly clouds almost directly overhead.

I hope James is okay.

I helped pick up the fallen bowls, ran them inside the house, and sat them down next to the rearranged breakfast. People disappeared in and out, gathering more supplies. I squeezed by the door, slipping into the stormy weather. The area where everyone once gathered was now empty; most everyone went back into their own homes to wait out the weather. The only person still sitting on the ground next to the bodies was Sidnee—by her husband.

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