Here They Lie by D’Ann Burrow
(The Bloodstone Legacy #1)
Publication date: October 5th 2015
Genres: New Adult, Southern Gothic
Synopsis:
Reese Everett’s aunt picked a bad time to die. Just weeks after a car accident left Reese’s mother unable to travel, her aunt’s house needs to be emptied and sold, leaving Reese as the only member of the family who can do the job. She typically wouldn’t balk at the opportunity to sift through her aunt’s collection of antiques, but when she arrives in Devil’s Vale, Georgia, she discovers the family house in a state of disrepair she won’t be able to handle alone.
Colton Waters is back in Devil’s Vale – whether he likes it or not. After he loses his acceptance to medical school with no explanation, he’s left with a single job offer…one that will return him to the hometown he’d hoped to escape.
When an errand to help his sister ends in a meeting with Reese neither will easily forget, Colton takes a job as her temporary handyman.
The longer Reese stays in town, the more she realizes the condition of her aunt’s house isn’t the only thing she hadn’t expected when she made the trip to Devil’s Vale. Reese isn’t the only gifted member of the family – her aunt Kate has been practicing the family business…the business Reese has been sworn never to discuss.
After a ghostly visitor arrives one night, Reese and Colton learn Kate wasn’t the only one practicing the darker arts. They begin to uncover secrets that refuse to stay buried.
Here They Lie won the Young Adult Romance Writer’s 2014 award for New Adult fiction.
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Excerpt
“Are you trying to get hit?” A male voice yelled as a car door slammed. The owner of the voice was almost right on top of me before I saw him.
I wished I hadn’t.
Tall. Dark. More than a hint muscular.
The kind of guy who looked like he spent hours in the garage bonding with his car. Between the glare on his face and the sleeveless, stained hoodie, he was also the kind of guy who reminded me to lock my doors in downtown New Orleans. He was the definition of what my father would call a very bad idea.
Unfortunately, he was also the closest thing I had to any salvation.
“Why the hell didn’t you pull off the road?” He paused, his face hovering just inches from my own.
“My truck kind of decided for me. One minute I’m driving, and the next it’s doing an impression of a really large rock.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”
That should have been his cue to take a peek under the hood. Instead, his eyes simply swept the ground, and he stomped his feet like a nervous horse.
“You can’t stay out here.” More stomping. His jerky movements made it look like he was attempting to kick the fog away. “You’ll have to get someone to look at it in the morning. It’s too dark right now.”
“I have a flashlight.”
“Like that’s going to help. And it’s a phone.” He spoke with a knife-sharp edge. “We’d better just go.”
Devil’s Vale was a nice, safe, sleepy Georgia town. Small southern towns were supposed to be filled with helpful, neighborly people, weren’t they? But I managed to get the one dude who had an attitude like a guy who got kicked out a fraternity for bad behavior. I’d known a fair number of frat boys. That took talent. “But you didn’t even look. Can you try jumping it?”
“I’m not going to be able to do anything.” He was already backing toward his a-little-too-well-restored sports car. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. He was from around here. He looked like he probably played football, boxed, or lifted weights for fun.
This guy was scared of the dark?
“I can give you a ride into town.”
Please don’t let him be a serial killer. He didn’t look nice enough to be a serial killer. They always looked like the guys who went door-to-door hoping to give you a Bible. This guy didn’t have the nice-guy vibe written on any part of him.
I paused, just as my feet touched the ground. “Can I bring my cat?”
“You have a cat?”
“Well, yeah.” I couldn’t leave Franklin. “He’s in a carrier.”
“Okay.” Dude didn’t look convinced. “I guess you can’t just leave him here.”
I reached into floorboard to grab Franklin’s crate while my rescuer made sounds like I was stalling while the Titanic sank beneath our feet.
“Can you hurry up?”
AUTHOR BIO:
D’Ann Burrow once told her preschool teacher she wanted to be a witch when she grew up. That simple comment signaled the start of a life-long fondness of things that go bump in the night. As she grew older, she could most often be found with her nose buried in a book, and she was especially fond of the Nancy Drew series as well as anything by Christopher Pike or Stephen King. Occasionally she’d take a trip to the world of the classics where The Scarlet Pimpernel and A Little Princess reigned among her favorites. She’s lost count of the times she’s read Little Women.
Today, D’Ann enjoys the world of Supernatural, stories about guys with fangs, and she’s seldom met a disaster film she hasn’t liked. When she grows up, she’d like to work at the Haunted Mansion. Until then, watching Ghost Hunters will have to count as research.
D’Ann writes about secrets people keep. Even the bravest heroine or a guy with a heart of gold has a few skeletons in the closet they’d rather not share with the world. When those secrets get out, things get interesting.
A Texas native, she knows making great guacamole is an art form. As a theater mom, she’ll happily chat about Broadway musicals by the hour. Molly and Lizzie, the family furry ones, are frequent stars of her Instagram account.
Website* Facebook * Twitter
Today, D’Ann enjoys the world of Supernatural, stories about guys with fangs, and she’s seldom met a disaster film she hasn’t liked. When she grows up, she’d like to work at the Haunted Mansion. Until then, watching Ghost Hunters will have to count as research.
D’Ann writes about secrets people keep. Even the bravest heroine or a guy with a heart of gold has a few skeletons in the closet they’d rather not share with the world. When those secrets get out, things get interesting.
A Texas native, she knows making great guacamole is an art form. As a theater mom, she’ll happily chat about Broadway musicals by the hour. Molly and Lizzie, the family furry ones, are frequent stars of her Instagram account.
Website* Facebook * Twitter
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