Sunday, August 30, 2015

Cover Reveal: Destiny of the Queen (Jaqueline Patricks)






Today is the cover reveal for Destiny of the Queen by Jacqueline Patricks. This cover reveal is organized by Lola's Blog Tours.Destiny of the Queen


Destiny of the Queen (The Brajj #3) By Jacqueline Patricks Genre: Science Fiction Age category: Adult Release Date: January 31, 2016

 Can a goddess find redemption? Can a soldier find purpose? When you think all is lost, When you believe life is meaningless, Sometimes your destiny is revealed. If you’re willing to see the signs, And brave enough to fight, Sometimes you can change worlds. Rejoin Cass, Jeamon, Lewis, and Ta'mat as they deal with the ramifications of Ta'mat's insanity and General Neville's betrayal. The few Brajj remaining with Cass and Jeamon are now under Dr. Saniya's control. Meanwhile, a world away, Captain Lewis and Ta'mat struggle with their strange bond inside his mind as they unravel the mystery of their new circumstances. Where did Ta'mat's wormhole transport them? Why? Is there some greater destiny unfolding? Where does freewill end and destiny begin?

THE STUNNING CONCLUSION TO THE BRAJJ TRILOGY!
You can find Destiny of the Queen on Goodreads You can pre-order Destiny of the Queen here: - Smashwords



Jacqueline Patricks
As a teen, writing became my passion, and like most aspiring writers, my work was terrible, immature, cliched drivel. I enlisted in the Army, attended college for my creative writing degree, became a paramedic for twenty years (one of the few at the time with a degree), then switched careers into IT. Crazy, huh? Throughout my life, I've traveled far and pushed myself hard, striving to try almost anything at least once (except skydiving unless the plane is on fire). I write like I live. Come and explore my imagination.






 You can find and contact Jacqueline Patricks here: 


Saturday, August 29, 2015

Trailer Reveal , Exclusive Excerpt, and GIVEAWAY: Blood & Salt (Kim Leggett)

Watch the eerie trailer for 'Blood and Salt' 
and read an exclusive excerpt



In an occult spin on Romeo and Juliet, Kim Liggett’s Blood and Salt follows a girl named Ash Larkin after her mother disappears from their home, leaving a briefcase full of gold and a message that she’s returned to Quivira — a cult-like town that she escaped from 17 years ago. But getting her back isn’t as easy as it seems: Not only does Ash fall in love with a boy she knows she can’t trust, but the town is preparing for a ceremony it’s waited 500 years to complete.



Check out the trailer above, and read an exclusive excerpt below.Blood and Salt comes out Sept. 22, 2015.



BLOOD AND SALT by Kim Liggett





THE SICKENING CRACKLE of the corn-husk rope pulls me from sleep, down the hall, up the stairs, and out into the night. The sky is the strangest color, a dusky gray rose. Dark blond hair skims the ground as it disappears into a patch of tall prairie grass.

Tearing through the coarse grass, I try to reach her. As I break into a small clearing, I catch a glimpse of her face—eyes wide and lifeless, she stares back at me as her body’s being dragged into the corn.

Sensing a presence, I turn to see a winged figure made of smoke move toward me, but I’m not afraid. The scent of freshly rained-upon soil, salt, hay, cloves, sandalwood, and saddle leather perme­ates the air. It’s the most beautiful smell in the world. I close my eyes to breathe it in, hoping it will imprint on my memory. And when I open them, the smoke has sharpened into the face of Dane.

I reach out to touch him, but he flinches away. I can’t help but laugh. Even my illusion of Dane won’t cooperate.

My skin is pulsing with light. Faint at first, the golden light soon grows into a soft halo that wraps around me, illuminating the protection marks.

I stand perfectly still, coaxing the golden light forward to reach him. As soon as it meets his skin, I can feel him, just as if I were touching him with my own fingers. Every bit of our connection is alive and electric as it flows through me and into him, back from him to me, and around us.

I feel his spirit, damaged and beautiful. Perfect in its flaws. Suddenly, I become worried that he can see all of me, too; something in me wants to cover up, to hide my imperfections. I feel vulnerable, like a gaping wound with salt water lapping at the edges.

“Do you see the light?”

“There’s no light,” he answers.

It makes me so sad he can’t see or feel what I feel. “Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.”

Dane’s shadowy figure takes an unexpected step toward me. Even though he’s only a hallucination, I swear I can feel his gentle breath on my face. He leans forward, pressing his lips against mine. I can taste him, along with the salt of my tears that stream into our mouths. Sadness and ecstasy consume me.

I open my eyes to find Dane has vanished, along with every bit of light that beamed from my skin. I hear the crops rustle behind me. I turn and step toward the corn. As I peer through the stalks, a feeling of dread presses down on me, crushing me, holding me in place.

The dead girl’s hand emerges from the corn, clasping my ankle. “I thought you loved me,” she whispers.

“Ashlyn.”

I awoke sometime before dawn, sprawled on top of my cov­ers, a thick sheen of sweat covering my body. I stirred; my muscles ached. My feet gritted against the sheets. Looking down, I found them caked in dirt.

I leapt out of bed.

“What’s going on?” Rhys mumbled.

“Nothing. Just need to get ready.” I escaped into the bath­room and rested my forehead against the closed door.

“This is real,” I told myself as I pressed my fingers into the cool wood grain. I stole a glance at myself in the mirror and did a double take.

Threaded into my tangled hair were coarse strands of prairie grass. In a panic, I checked the rest of my body. “Holy shit.” I exhaled when I discovered a bloody handprint coiled around my left ankle.

I’d gone outside without a clue of how I got there or how I got back. I’d lost time again. Maybe hours. Was Coronado’s black magic trying to lure me into the corn? But it felt deeper than that.

“Are you okay in there?” Rhys knocked on the door, star­tling me.

“Find another bathroom,” I snapped as I pumped water into the washtub. I stepped into the cool water and scrubbed my legs with a washcloth until they were raw, then pulled the plug, watching the dirty water swirl around my ankles and disappear down the drain.

The dead girl spoke to me. She touched me. She wanted me to find her in the corn. And Dane could take me there.








Friday, August 28, 2015

Avon Books Blog Tour, Excerpt, & Giveaway: When A Scot Ties The Knot (Tessa Dare)

When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After, #3)ebook, 384 pages
Expected publication: August 25th 2015 by Avon



On the cusp of her first London season, Miss Madeline Gracechurch was shy, pretty and talented with a drawing pencil, but hopelessly awkward with gentlemen. She was certain to be a dismal failure on the London marriage mart. So Maddie did what generations of shy, awkward young ladies have done: she invented a sweetheart.
A Scottish sweetheart. One who was handsome and honorable and devoted to her, but conveniently never around. Maddie poured her heart into writing the imaginary Captain MacKenzie letter after letter … and by pretending to be devastated when he was (not really) killed in battle, she managed to avoid the pressures of London society entirely.
Until years later, when this kilted Highland lover of her imaginings shows up in the flesh. The real Captain Logan MacKenzie arrives on her doorstep—handsome as anything, but not entirely honorable. He’s wounded, jaded, in possession of her letters… and ready to make good on every promise Maddie never expected to keep. 



Where to buy WHEN A SCOT TIES THE KNOT






Displaying TESSA DARE photo.JPG
Tessa Dare is the New York Times bestselling, award-winning author of more than a dozen historical romances. A librarian by training and a book-lover at heart, Tessa lives in Southern California with her husband, their two children, and a big brown dog.








Quotes
“Dare’s marvelous third Castles Ever After Regency romance (after Say Yes to the Marquess) builds a gradual, intense romance between two people who are determined to avoid love and commitment….Dare’s swiftly moving plot is enhanced by the seamlessly developed romance, and the sensuality is heightened by the slow awakening of the pair’s mutual attraction.”Publishers Weekly, **STARRED**

“With sharp, clever banter, breathtaking sensuality, colorful descriptions, and solid cultural detail, this compelling, often hilarious escapade puts a refreshing spin on the [‘imaginary lover’ theme and adds another winner to Dare’s riveting ‘Castles’ series.” Library Journal, **STARRED**
“Dare’s latest begins with a fairy-tale twist of fate, then leads readers on a mesmerizing and intense emotional journey that explores love in many forms and the powerful pull of dreams.” Kirkus, **STARRED**

“Dare delights with another marvelously romantic story that delivers a deep sigh, a tear and a smile. With her painfully shy heroine and vulnerable hero, readers are immediately captivated and will savor the joy of this imaginary-sweetheart plotline. You’ll stay up all night to reach the unforgettable ending.” RT Book Reviews, **4.5 Stars, Top Pick!**


Prologue

September 21, 1808

Dear Captain Logan MacKenzie,

There is but one consolation in writing this absurd letter. And that is that you, my dear delusion, do not exist to read it.
But I run ahead of myself. Introductions first.
I am Madeline Eloise Gracechurch. The greatest ninny to ever draw breath in England. This will come as a shock, I fear, but you fell deeply in love with me when we did not cross paths in Brighton. And now we are engaged.

Maddie could not remember the first time she’d held a drawing pencil. She only knew she could not recall a time she’d been without one.
In fact, she usually carried two or three. She kept them tucked in her apron pockets and speared in her upswept dark hair, and sometimes—when she needed all her limbs for climbing a tree or vaulting a fence rail—clenched in her teeth.
And she wore them down to nubs. She sketched songbirds when she was supposed to be minding her lessons, and she sketched church mice when she was meant to be at prayer. When she had time to ramble out of doors, anything in Nature was fair game—from the shoots of clover between her toes to any cloud that meandered overhead.
She loved to draw anything. Well, almost anything.
She hated drawing attention to herself.
And thus, at sixteen years old, she found herself staring down her first London season with approximately as much joy as one might anticipate a dose of purgative.
After many years as a widower, Papa had taken a new wife. One a mere eight years older than Maddie herself. Anne was cheerful, elegant, lively. Every- thing her new stepdaughter was not.
Oh, to be Cinderella in all her soot-smeared, rag-clad misery. Maddie would have been thrilled to have a wicked stepmother lock her in the tower while everyone else went to the ball. Instead, she was stuck with a very different sort of stepmother— one eager to dress her in silks, send her to dances, and thrust her into the arms of an unsuspecting prince.
Figuratively, of course.
At best, Maddie was expected to fetch a third son with aspirations to the Church, or perhaps an insolvent baronet.
At worst . . .
Maddie didn’t do well in crowds. More to the point, she didn’t do anything in crowds. In any large gathering—be it a market, a theater, a ballroom— she had a tendency to freeze, almost literally. An arctic sense of terror took hold of her, and the crush of bodies rendered her solid and stupid as a block of ice.
The mere thought of a London season made her shudder.
And yet, she had no choice.
While Papa and Anne (she could not bring her- self to address a twenty-four-year-old as Mama) en- joyed their honeymoon, Maddie was sent to a ladies’ rooming house in Brighton. The sea air and society were meant to coax her out of her shell before her season commenced.
It didn’t quite work that way.
Instead, Maddie spent most of those weeks with shells. Collecting them on the beach, sketching them in her notebook, and trying not to think about parties or balls or gentlemen.
On the morning she returned, Anne greeted her with a pointed question. “There now. Are you all ready to meet your special someone?”
That was when Maddie panicked. And lied. On the spur of the moment, she concocted an outrageous falsehood that would, for better and worse, determine the rest of her life.
“I’ve met him already.”
The look of astonishment on her stepmother’s face was immensely satisfying. But within seconds, Maddie realized how stupid she’d been. She ought to have known that her little statement wouldn’t put paid to the matter. Of course it only launched a hundred other questions.
When is he coming here?
Oh, er . . . He can’t. He wanted to, but he had to leave the country at once.
Whatever for?
Because he’s in the army. An officer.
What of his family? We at least should meet them.
But you can’t. He’s from too far away. All the way in Scotland. And also, they’re dead.
At least tell us his name.
MacKenzie. His name is Logan MacKenzie.

Logan MacKenzie. Suddenly her not-real suitor had a name. By the end of the afternoon, he had hair (brown), eyes (blue), a voice (deep, with a Highland burr), a rank (captain), and a personality (firm, but intelligent and kind).
And that evening, at her family’s urging, Maddie sat down to write him a letter.

. . . Right this moment, they think I am writing a letter to my secret kilted betrothed, and I am filling a page with nonsense instead, just praying no one looks over my shoulder. Worst of all, I shall have no choice but to post the thing when I’m done. It will end up in some military dead letter office. I hope. Or it will be read and passed around whole regiments for ridicule, which I would richly deserve.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now the clock is ticking, and when it strikes doom I will have to confess. I will firstly be compelled to explain that I lied about attracting a handsome Scottish officer while staying in Brighton. Then, when I do, I shall have no further excuse to avoid the actual rejection of countless English gentlemen come spring.
My dear imaginary Captain MacKenzie, you are not real and never will be. I, however, am a true and eternal fool.
Here, have a drawing of a snail.

October 5, 1808

Dear not-really-a-Captain MacKenzie,

On second thought, perhaps I won’t have to explain it this year. I might be able to stretch this for a whole season. I must admit, it’s rather convenient. And my family looks at me in a whole new light. I am now a woman who inspired at least one headlong tumble into everlasting love, and really—isn’t one enough?
Because, you see, you are mad for me. Utterly consumed with passion after just a few chance meetings and walks along the shore. You made me a great many promises. I was reluctant to accept them, knowing how our nascent love would be tested by distance and war. But you assured me that your heart is true, and I . . .
And I have read too many novels, I think.

November 10, 1808

Dear Captain MacWhimsy,

Is there anything more mortifying than bearing witness to one’s own father’s love affair? Ugh. We all knew he needed to remarry and produce an heir. To take a young, fertile wife made the most sense. I just didn’t expect him to enjoy it so much, or with so few nods to dignity. Curse this endless war and its effect of hampering proper months-long honeymoons. They disappear together every afternoon, and then I and the servants must all pretend to not know what they are doing. I shudder.
I know I should be happy to see them both happy, and I am. Rather. But until this heir-making project takes root, I think I shall be writing you fewer letters and taking a great many walks.

December 18, 1808

Dear Captain MacFantasy,

I have a new accomplice. My aunt Thea has come to stay. In her youth she was a scandalous demimondaine, ruined at court in France by a wicked comte, but she’s frail and harmless now.
Aunt Thea adores the idea that I’m suffering with love and anxiety for my endangered Scottish officer. I scarcely have to lie at all. “Of course Madeline doesn’t wish to attend parties and balls in London! Can’t you see, the poor dear is eaten with worry for her Captain MacKenzie.”
Truly, it’s a bit frightening how much she cherishes my misery. She has even convinced my father that I should be served breakfasts in my room now, like a married lady or an invalid. I am excused from anything resembling public merriment, I am per- mitted to spend as much time as I please sketching in peace. Chocolate and toast are delivered to my bedside every morning, and I read the newspaper even before Papa has his turn.
I am starting to believe you were a stroke of brilliance.

June 26, 1809

Dear Captain Imaginary MacFigment,

O happy day! Ring the bells, sound the trumpets. Swab the floors with lemon oil. My father’s bride is vomiting profusely every morning, and most every afternoon, as well. The signs are plain. A noisy, smelly, writhing thing will push its way into the world in some six or seven months’ time. Their joy is complete, and I am pushed further and further to the margins of it.
No matter. We have the rest of the world, you and I. Aunt Thea helps me chart the routes of your campaign. She tells me stories about the French countryside so that I might imagine the sights that will greet you as you drive Napoleon to the other side of the Pyrenees. When you smell lavender, she says, victory is near.
I must remind myself to appear sad from time to time, as though I’m worried for you. Sometimes, oddly enough, it’s quite an easy thing to pretend.
Stay well and whole, my captain.

December 9, 1809

Oh, my dear captain,

You will be put out with me. I know I swore my heart to be true, but I must confess. I have fallen in love. Lost my heart to another, irrevocably. His name is Henry Edward Gracechurch. He weighs just a half stone, he’s pink and wrinkled all over . . . and he is perfect. I don’t know how I ever called him a thing. A more beautiful, charming angel never existed.
Now that Papa has an heir, our estate shall never pass to The Dreaded American, and I will never be thrown into genteel poverty. This means I do not have to marry, and I no longer need a fictional Scottish suitor to explain it.
I could claim that we’ve grown apart, put an end to all these silly letters and lies. But Aunt Thea is ever so fond of you by now, and I am ever so fond of her. Besides, I would miss writing.
It’s the oddest thing. I do not understand myself. But sometimes I fancy that you do.

November 9, 1810

Dear Logan,

(Surely we can claim a Christian-name familiarity by now.)
What follows is an exercise in pure mortification. I can’t even believe I’m going to write it down, but perhaps putting it on paper and sending it away will help rid me of the stupid habit. You see, I have a pillow. It’s a fine pillow, all stuffed with goose down. Quite firm and big. Almost a bolster, really. At night I put it on one side of the bed and place a hot brick beneath it to warm it all up. Then I nestle up alongside it, and if I close my eyes and fall into that half-sleep place . . . I can almost believe it’s you. Beside me. Keeping me warm and safe. But it’s not you, because it is a pillow and you are not even a real person. And I am a bug. But now I’ve grown so accustomed to the thing, I can’t sleep without it. The nights simply stretch too long and lonely.
Wherever you are, I hope you are sleeping well. Sweet dreams, Captain MacPillow.

July 17, 1811

My dear Highland laird and captain,

You have pulled off quite a trick for a man who is no more than a pillow stuffed with lies and embroidered with a hint of personality. You are going to be a land- owner. Aunt Thea has convinced my godfather, the Earl of Lynforth, to leave me a little something in his will. That “little something” being a castle in the Scottish Highlands. Lannair Castle, it’s called. It is meant to be our home when you return from war. That is the perfect ending to this masterpiece of absurdity, isn’t it?
Dear Lord. A castle.

March 16, 1813

Dear captain of my heart’s true folly,

Little Master Henry and Miss Emma are growing like reeds. I’ve enclosed a sketch. Thanks to their doting mama, they have learnt to say their nightly prayers. And every night—my heart twists to write it—they pray for you. “God bless and keep our brave Captain MacKenzie.” Well, the way Emma says it, it sounds more like “Cap’n Macaroni.” And each time they pray for you, I feel my own soul sliding ever closer to brimstone. This has all gone too far, and yet—if I were to reveal my lie, they would despise me. And mourn you. After all, it’s been almost five years since we did not meet in Brighton.
You are part of our family now.

June 20, 1813

My dear, silent friend,

It breaks my heart, but I have to do it. I must. I can’t bear the guilt any longer. There’s only one way to end this now.
You have to die.
I’m so sorry. You can’t know how sorry. I prom- ise, I’ll make it a valiant death. You’ll save four—no, six—other men in a feat of courage and noble sac- rifice. As for me, I’m devastated. These are genuine tears dotting this parchment. The mourning I shall wear for you will be real, as well. It’s as though I’m killing off part of myself—the part that had all those romantic, if foolish, hopes. I will settle into life as a spinster now, just as I always knew I would. I will never be married. Or held, or loved. Maybe if I write those things out, I’ll get used to the truth of them. It’s time to stop lying and put aside dreaming.
My darling, departed Captain MacKenzie . . . Adieu.




CBB Book Promotions Blog Tour, Review, & Giveaway: Tom Thorneval: Dream Merchant Extraordinaire (Cornelius Elmore Addison)


Welcome to my tour stop for Tom Thorneval: Dream Merchant Extraordinaire by Cornelius Elmore Addison! This is a middle grade fantasy and the tour runs August 24 - 28 with reviews only.  Check out the tour page for more information and be sure to stop by each tour stop as Tom Thorneval travels and you'll see him in a new stop (new graphic) on each blog!

Tom Thorneval
The first paperback from the Addison's Tales musical storyworld is set to appear this summer with the release of "Tom Thorneval – Dream Merchant Extraordinaire". The rippingly entertaining anti-fairytale follows the misadventures of a very likable Dreammaker aiming to make it big in the world of men. Unfortunately, his great plan has drawn the ire of Fate, and Tom is robbed of all his dreams shortly after setting out on his grand adventure.With his loyal (if slightly insane) stoat Wix, a devastated Tom battles on through a series of horrifically funny misfortunes as he makes his way towards what he hopes is the Grand Goblin Fair, only to draw farther away from it in the process. Will the courageous half-fairy make it back to his true love Mary? Will she be waiting for him? Or will all the orcs, imps, witches, dwarves and mysterious creatures that line the forest paths ruin his one chance at happiness?The answer lies in the pages of this innovative literary event that races middle-schoolers through a Pythonesque world of music, color and wild adventure. Readers are invited to listen to the three songs from the tale with their smartphones and go on to learn the ├╝ber-catchy, author-composed melodies at the Addison's Tales channel on MuseScore.com. With its philosophical turns and fable-like qualities, Tom Thorneval is a modern twist on what it's like to be a little different in a very big world.

"Tom is a down-to-earth narrator, and his dream making is as clever as Roald Dahl’s in The BFG (1982).  His adventures are also reminiscent of traveling through Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland, and the driving later subplot of the book ... (spoiler removed) ... ends well. Although the book is the first in a planned series, the story feels complete and self-contained. It also  includes QR codes to play the music included in the book, which is a nice touch for readers with the proper technology." - Kirkus Reviews

Goodreads | Amazon
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What is the Addison's Tales musical storyworld?

To make it easy, think of the web as a canvas like the cinema screen or a book. Instead of just one film or story for the canvas, however, Addison's Tales is composed of multiple stories, animated videos and songs that can be discovered over ‘bridges’ (hyperlinks) leading from one part of the storyworld to the next like a colourful online garden expanding over time.

Users can enjoy sights, sounds and emotions waiting within the ebooks, apps, music, cartoons and paperbacks. It is a very new approach to storytelling that does not require you to start at any particular page or scene and draws on the unique crossmedia storytelling capabilities of the web. But if you REALLY need a beginning, head to www.addisonstales.com

Here you will meet the creator C. E. Addison in his cottage surrounded by the characters he has purchased from Mack the Character Merchant. Scroll around the cottage to learn about his characters and follow the links to their tales available in your preferred format. The first suggested tale is “The Dream”, where Mr Addison meets Mack.
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One paperback of  Tom Thorneval: Dream Merchant Extraordinaire by Cornelius Elmore Addison 
Open Worldwide
Ends September 2nd
Prizing is provided by the publisher, hosts are not responsible in any way.

This event was organized by CBB Book Promotions.


Review: The Secrets of Lake Road (Karen Katcher)

The Secrets of Lake RoadHardcover, 320 pages
Published August 4th 2015 by Thomas Dunne Books



A haunting story about the destructive power of secrets, this accomplished and gripping suspenseful women's fiction debut is perfect for fans of Lisa Scottoline and Heather Gudenkauf
Jo has been hiding the truth about her role in her high school boyfriend’s drowning for sixteen years. Every summer, she drops her children off with her mother at the lakeside community where she spent summers growing up, but cannot bear to stay herself; everything about the lake reminds her of the guilt she feels. For her daughter Caroline, however, the lake is a precious world apart; its familiarity and sameness comforts her every year despite the changes in her life outside its bounds. At twelve years old and caught between childhood and adolescence, she longs to win her mother’s love and doesn’t understand why Jo keeps running away.
Then seven-year-old Sara Starr goes missing from the community beach. Rescue workers fail to uncover any sign of her—but instead dredge up the bones Jo hoped would never be discovered, shattering the quiet lakeside community’s tranquility. Caroline was one of the last people to see Sara alive on the beach, and feels responsible for her disappearance. She takes it upon herself to figure out what happened to the little girl. As Caroline searches for Sara, she uncovers the secrets her mother has been hiding, unraveling the very foundation of everything she knows about herself and her family. The Secrets of Lake Road by Karen Katchur is a riveting novel that is impossible to put down and hard to forget.






Karen Katchur
Karen Katchur holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice from West Chester University and a Masters of Education degree in Health and Physical Education from East Stroudsburg University. She lives in Eastern Pennsylvania with her husband and two children. She enjoys running and tennis. THE SECRETS OF LAKE ROAD is her first novel.








Really enjoyed this book! Great summer read!! Young Caroline is spending the summer with her Grandmother at the lake. Caroline has NO idea how much her life will change during this summer vacation. Caroline's mom, Jo, as made lots of memories at their families lake house...some she would rather not remember!! This story has tragedy, secrets, romance and more!!! I loved how the reader was able to get an insight from the different characters in each chapter. What is Caroline's mom hiding, what are her lake road secrets?! If you have time to squeeze in one more book this summer, this is a good one!! I give it 4 stars.





More Praise for The Secrets of Lake Road…

“The ­author gracefully captures both ­motherhood and adolescence in the voices of Jo and Caroline, creating great crossover appeal for older teens. This beautiful, heartbreaking, and affecting debut, reminiscent of the work of Heather ­Gudenkauf, will have readers craving more from Katchur.”
--Library Journal, starred review

“Gripped me with its provocative opening sentence and held me in its spell until its final, shattering revelations. A suspenseful, heartbreaking novel.”
--David Bell, bestselling author of The Forgotten Girl

“A haunting story taut with suspense and packed with hope, loss and poignancy. Readers won’t want to put it down until the final page has been turned and the heart of the mystery revealed.”
--Marilyn Brant, New York Times bestselling author of The Road to You

“Part tender coming-of-age, part edge-of-your-seat suspense...Pick up this book forewarned that you will do nothing else until you finish reading it.”
--Karen Brown, author of The Longings of Wayward Girls

“Gripping and evocative...Katcher skillfully weaves between past and present, revealing devastating truths along the way.”
--Paula Treick DeBoard, author of The Fragile World

“Drenched in atmosphere, mysterious and haunting, The Secrets of Lake Road dives deep into a community’s secrets and shows how love and heartache can be equally binding. I lost days to this book as I couldn’t stop reading.”
--Sara Foster, author of Beneath the Shadows

“Will have you turning the pages faster than you thought possible, desperate to find out what mysterious event has fractured the residents of this haunting lake. Karen Katchur has written a book whose setting and characters will gnaw at you every time you try to put it down.”
--Taylor Jenkins Reid, author of Forever, Interrupted