My Secret to Tell
Author: Natalie D. Richards
Publisher: Sourcefire Books
Publication Date: October 6th, 2015
ISBN: 9781492615712
His smile is a crime.
Emerson May is “the good girl.” She’s the
perfect daughter, the caring friend, the animal shelter volunteer. But when her
best friend’s brother breaks into her room, his hands covered in blood, she
doesn’t scream or call the cops. Because when Deacon smiles at her, Emmie
doesn’t want to be good…
The whole town believes notorious
troublemaker Deacon is guilty of assaulting his father. Only Emmie knows a
secret that could set him free. But if she follows her heart, she could be
trusting a killer…
You can’t always trust the boy next
door.
After years as a professional paper-pusher,
NATALIE D. RICHARDS decided to trade
in reality for a life writing YA fiction. She lives in Ohio (Go Bucks!) with
her husband, three children, and a ridiculously furry dog named Yeti. This is
her second novel. Visit her on Twitter @natdrichards or at
nataliedrichards.com.
--
This October Natalie D. Richards releases her latest YA thriller, MY SECRET TO
TELL. To celebrate, Natalie is here for a quick Q&A and has brought an
excerpt to share!
What
was the inspiration behind MY SECRET TO TELL?
I’ve spent many, many vacations in
Beaufort, North Carolina (Not South Carolina!
And if you wondered, Beaufort in North Carolina is BOH-FURT, not
BYOO-FURT.) Beaufort is a magical place to be.
I had some story ideas kicking around set in Beaufort, but I only knew
it as a tourist. I didn’t know many locals
well and I wanted to learn more. When I
went to visit for research, what I learned about the year-round Beaufort life
really changed my angle. It’s a very
different way of living, being on the harbor like that, and in a tourist town,
no less. I’ve never met lovelier folks
and they had some of the best stories.
I’m a bit spellbound by that little town, and that magic is why the book
was born.
Purchase:
--
EXCERPT
“Emmie?”
My name lands somewhere
between a hiccup and a sob, and my feet stall out on the sidewalk in front of
my house. I adjust my grip on the phone, hoping I misheard her tone. This
doesn’t sound like Chelsea. This voice is breathless.
Frightened.
“I’m here,” I say. “What’s up?
You don’t sound right.”
“I’m not.” She takes a shuddery breath.
My shirt’s sticking to my back
and cicadas are click-buzzing the end of another blistering day, but I go cold.
Something’s wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
“It’s my dad, Emmie,” she
says. I can tell she’s crying.
I grab my chest. It’s too
tight. Burning. “What happened?”
Her words all tumble out on
top of one another, interrupted by shaky breaths. I try to pick out pieces that
make sense. “He’s hurt—bleeding—we’re behind the ambulance and I can’t—he’s
not—someone attacked him.”
I start climbing the porch
steps, because she’ll need me. I’m her best friend, so I should be there. I
need to change clothes and go. “You’re on the way to the hospital, right?
They’ll help him there.”
Another sharp breath. “I don’t
know if they can. He’s so bad. So
bad.”
My heart clenches. “Where are
you?”
“We’re almost there. Joel’s
with me.”
“Okay, good. I’m coming,” I
say, crossing my porch and hauling my front door open. “Let me just call Mom.
I’ll borrow the car.”
Chelsea’s still crying when I
storm down the hallway toward my bedroom.
“Emmie, I can’t find Deacon…”
“Your brother never answers
his phone,” I say, pushing open my door. “I’ll run by the docks first and—”
“No. No, he was there. He was
at the house.”
Chelsea makes a strangled
sound, and I notice the liquid-thick heat in my bedroom. The kind of heat that
tells me the air conditioner is broken. Or my window is open.
My gaze drags to my fluttering
white curtains, to the dark smudge on the windowsill.
Chelsea’s voice goes low and
raspy. “He ran, Emmie. God, he was there with Dad. He was in the house, but he
ran.”
I swivel with an invisible
fist lodged in my throat. My bathroom door is open, a red-black smudge beneath
the knob.
My mouth goes dry, my pulse
thumping slower than it should. Then I see the blood on the floor by my sink,
and my heart tumbles end over end.
“We’re here. I’ll call soon,”
Chelsea says and hangs up.
I see him, his back to my tub
and his dark head bowed on one bent knee. Oh God.
He’s covered in blood. It’s on
his legs, his hands. Dripping onto my white tile floor. He looks up, and my
heart goes strangely steady.
I take a breath that tastes
like purpose. “Deacon?”
This one is already out and you can find the links to purchase it above. If you need more incentive to check it out, you can always read my four star review!
Hmmm, interesting. I've read from this author before and I was feeling pretty "meh" about it but I'd love to give this a try. It seems interesting enough!
ReplyDeleteFaye at The Social Potato