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Cover Reveal!


Releasing June 5th.

Big Ginormous thanks to Cover Me Darling for this cover!



After a party gone wrong and in desperate need of money for the fall semester of college, twenty-year-old Nora Robertson needs to escape her hometown.

She accepts a summer long live-in tutoring job for a handsome man and his little sister at a secluded home deep in the mountains.

There is no running water.

No electricity.

No internet or cell service.

When her tutoring job ends she’s hit with a brutal turn of events … she’s not permitted to leave.

It’s a wild game of survival

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COVER reveal giveaway

B&N ➜

iBooks ➜

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Loved Jezebel?

Hi there,

Writing from rainy Maine today.
So, I have a group on Facebook… you should probably join it. I share lots in there and interact. I give things away too! Come have fun with us! ​

Another little tid bit…

The Tutor releases June 5th. There are preorder links
B&N ➜
iBooks ➜
Kobo ➜

Here is the feedback I am getting so far regarding The Tutor… makes me think that perhaps you Jezebel fans will really dig this one too!

“You know when you’re nervous/panicked and your mouth fills with saliva and yet your stomach drops and you feel like you can’t swallow?! THAT’S how I felt reading The Tutor. Like omg. So. Freaking. Incredible.”

“A fascinating portrait into the minds of the captor and captive.”- Leylah Attar

“Holy. Effing. Tits. It knocked my socks off. The Tutor was the craziest and the biggest mind-fuck I’ve read in a long while. Wow. An amazing, captivating, enrapturing story.”

“The Tutor weaves a romantic tale that will tip you upside down, and smack the love right out of you.”

“Every last word grips you. Mind blowing.”

“Love, Lies, Corruption, Sex, Longing, Lust, Secrets. It’s all in there”

Are you signed up for my newsletter? I have something cool coming up. Something you might want to know about. Something that involves a giveaway… so if you’d like to get in on that – join the list here➔

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Exclusive Chapter Reveal




“What’s your name?”

“Nora,” I whisper. My throat feels sunburned. Sweat soaks the hair covering my neck. Wind gusts hair across my face. Something drips from my head. Or onto my head. I can’t tell which. A blurry face appears over mine. Too close. “Nora, we’re going to lift now.” I stare at the gray sky.  I shudder and worry about what might be watching from the thicket of woods nearby.  I can’t nod and my mouth makes no sound. For a moment I feel weightless. Free. I imagine it’s how birds feel soaring through the sky. Gravity quickly reminds me that something’s amiss. My leg feels like it’s on fire. I wince when I’m jostled into some kind of metal box. An ambulance. The sterile hygienic odor hits me like a brick in the face.


Everything is a watery blur from behind the rain-streaked windows of the ambulance doors. People have a deep-seated craving for a sense of family, belonging, identity. I squeeze my eyes shut. Looking back, I realize that he probably interviewed lots of different girls for the job and picked the one he thought would be easiest. It wasn’t just the girl he chose but the life she came from as well.  “Nora, stay with me.” The paramedic’s voice is deep and oddly soothing.  It pulls me from my thoughts. I open my eyes, slide my gaze from the ceiling to him. I want to know what he looks like but my eyes won’t focus enough to get a good look. He pokes at me with something as if I am a large bug to be inspected. My body screams with pain. It feels like there’s a noose around my throat so tight stars dance in my eyes. I’ve experienced this before though. I can survive.  Life’s made me numb. I squeeze my eyes shut again. “Nora, can you hear me?”



I jolt awake—disoriented. Lotte? Tubes snake in and out of me. I’m covered in soft blue and don’t feel gritty with dirt anymore.  The steady beeps of nearby monitors hurts my ears. So much white noise. A symphony of electronic background sound that’s headache inducing. I’ve been too used to the quiet of nature for too long. The door to the room is closed. I don’t like closed doors. Panic jumpstarts my heart.  I’m trapped. Again. My leg is hoisted up and in a cast. I squint trying to recall the proper name for the contraption. My sternum aches and I have white lights dancing in my peripheral vision.


The door opens. Please be Lotte. A man in a gray suit enters the room. I lift my head slightly. “Hello, Nora.” I don’t know who he is. I squint at him as he surveys me while chewing a nail. It’s strange to think of the unexpected turns a person’s life can take. “I’m detective Salve. And I need to ask you some questions.” I feel my face wrinkle in confusion. “Do you remember what happened?” he asks.

I drop my head to the thin pillow; stare at the ceiling as he pulls a chair next to the bed. “I was in a car accident.” My voice is a raspy whisper. When I chance a look at him again, he’s nodding.

“Yes. That’s good. Do you need anything?” he asks. Not from you.

“Water,” I answer. And Lotte.

“Sure thing. Hang on.” He stands, the chair legs scrape across the floor and I cringe at the noise. When he returns he holds a small cup of water out at me, a straw plunged into it. He’s younger than Holden by maybe a few years from the looks of it. I wonder how long he’s been a detective. His brown hair is close cropped and his nose has a bump in the bridge. He has nice eyes and an easy smile. A nice face, Angela would say. I take the cup from him and chance a small sip. It’s hard to swallow but I manage. I set the cup down on the table next to the bed.

“So, Nora, what’s your last name?” he asks.

I sigh and say, “Robertson.”

Detective Salve lifts an eyebrow at me. “Really.”

I lick my dry lips. “Really,” I mumble.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.” He eyes me then. Takes me in. “What’s your date of birth?”

“March 19th, 1996.” I know what he’s thinking- I look younger than I am. I always have. And I’m only just twenty-one.

“Do you want me to call your parents?” I shake my head.

“I don’t have any,” I answer. Like most people who grew up without parents, over the years I have collected little tidbits of life knowledge, scraps and bits from friends parents, teachers, and employers. Anyone who offered up a touch of wisdom and I kept them like fabric remnants so that I could someday crochet them into a nonsensical afghan that might somehow make my life better—easier. But that is the problem with crocheting-it’s full of holes.  Right now I’d kill to have a parent. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where Lotte is. I don’t know if I’m close to home or close to the farm.

“Is there other family I could call?” I stare at the ceiling again. A nurse comes in and explains that she’s taking my vitals, upping my fluids and asks if I need anything for my pain level. I want the detective to leave. He gives me an uneasy feeling. Men aren’t to be trusted. They have hidden dark needs they want filled. He wouldn’t want me talking to any men. Dara, the nurse, writes her name on a whiteboard and tells me to let her know if I need anything at all. She gives Detective Salve the side-eye as she leaves. I decide I like her.

“Angela Clark,” I croak.

“Sorry?” Detective Salve says.

“Call Angela Clark.” I give him the phone number and wait for him to leave. We’re not done yet. He told me that. But at least the unidentified girl in the car wreck has been identified. I buzz the nurse. She’s quick.

“My head is killing me.” Dara nods while simultaneously darting around. She reminds me of a butterfly with their erratic flight patterns. She’s dainty and delicate looking.  Before I can blink twice she’s handing me pills and the cup of water from the table. I swallow them down quick.

“You should really try and sleep. The Doctor will be around to fill you in soon.”

I bite my bottom lip and try to make myself comfortable before I close my eyes. I shouldn’t close my eyes. I feel guilty for not getting up. For not finding Lotte or asking about her but if I’m here–safe, she’s probably here–safe. Scared but safe.

When I sleep my brain doesn’t hurt. The world is quiet. At least it used to be that way. Sleep was a heavenly escape. I didn’t dream. Sleep provided me sweet escape for eight hours.  It’s dark out when I wake. Rather, when I’m roused from sleep.

“Ms. Robertson.” An unfamiliar voice. I blink a few times before rubbing away the sleep crusties. My mouth is dry again. My leg throbs. My chest aches. Is this a broken heart? I stuff the idea way deep down- for Lotte.

“Nora,” I scratch out. He tucks my chart under his armpit and hands my water to me. I drink the remaining liquid. It’s not enough. I’m somnolent and feel desiccated.

“Nora,” he says.


“You’re aware of the car accident yes?”

“Yes,” I answer. The road was uneven and icy. I remember screaming at Lotte to hang on as I yanked the wheel and slammed the brake pedal.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” he says and a part of me wants to laugh but I don’t. “You shattered your femur and part of your patella.  You sustained a nasty contusion on your sternum and a serious concussion. It was estimated that you were pinned under your truck for at least three hours before help arrived which is partly why you’re dehydrated and suffered moderate hypothermia.”

“Okay. Where’s Lotte?” I ask.

He stares at me a beat. “Who’s Lotte?”

“Charlotte,” I say. “She was in the truck with me.”

He pinches his lips closed. Swings his tongue around his teeth behind his bottom lip. “As far as I know, there was no one else recovered at the scene.” He looks everywhere but me. Recovered. The word doesn’t sit right with me.

“That can’t be right. She was in the truck with me.” I close my eyes, recall what I can. I know she was with me.

He stares at me intently now. Then, “Tell you what? I will ask around for you. Maybe I’m wrong.”

“When can I leave?” I ask.

“We need to do a couple more CAT scans, get your fluids up and monitor your break. But outside of that—soon.”

Now I do laugh. “That doesn’t sound very soon.”

“It’s all relative,” he says with an easy grin. “Also, the EMTs didn’t recover any personal effects. Do you have health insurance or an emergency contact you’d like on file?”

I frown and shake my head. “I already spoke with a detective. He’s calling someone for me but I don’t have insurance,” I groan. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Just another step to take. I’ll send someone up to get you officially admitted and work out payment options with you. I expect you’ll be moved upstairs out of emergency shortly.”

“How long have I been here?”

“You arrived,” he looks at his watch. A big fancy one. One that looks expensive. I can hear the ticking from my bed. It’s amazing how much more you use your other senses after months living in the woods. “Fourteen hours ago. Most of that was spent in surgery to set your femur and get the screws in place.”


“Do you have any questions for me, Nora?”

My gut clenches. “No. I’m fine.”

The better I begin to feel, the more rested I am, the worse my panic becomes. He’s still out there and Lotte is missing. I am in deep trouble.

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Imposter Deleted Scene-One Week Gone



One week gone


Instead of supportive Sam was elusive. He looked at her like a stranger.  As she stared at herself in the mirror she realized she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Her hair was greasy and limp. Her eyes dull and red-rimmed. Her normally upturned mouth, a fine straight line. Helen pinched her cheeks in an attempt to get some color into them. It was pointless. Her blood just didn’t flow the same way it used to before.  She stared at the mirror until her eyes lost focus. Everything blurred together. Messy and unrecognizable-like her life.

She skipped the coffee knowing the caffeine would be too much for her system and walked into the garden. It was a clear, bright day. Just last week it had been gray and gloomy out. The day the police called her to the station to go through Sophie’s backpack was the worst of the gloom. A bitter wind swept around her as she had entered the station. Besides some scuffs on the backpack, nothing was wrong with it. The contents of it still held everything Helen had packed for Sophie. It was as if someone had taken the backpack and tossed it from a car window on the highway without a second thought. A chill ran through her body as she bent and pulled some weeds. Her garden would be ready for spring early. Being outside provided a space big enough for her to breathe so she found herself out there as much as possible lately.

Helen arrived at the school ten minutes later. Cora normally walked because they lived so close. She strode into the office and waited while they paged Cora to come to the front office. Helen watched as Cora bounded toward her, eyes rimmed red. When she reached Helen she threw herself into her mother’s arms.

“What’s wrong?” Helen asked squeezing Cora back.

“I don’t feel good.”

Helen brushed Cora’s hair back from her face and kissed her forehead before ushering out of the school.

“You don’t have a fever, so what’s really up?” Helen asked as Cora buckled herself in.

Cora sighed and looked out the window. “My stomach hurts. Every time I think about Sophie it knots up and squeezes and I feel sick.”

Helen worked hard to stay composed for her daughter. “Me too sweetie. But you don’t want to fall behind in school.”

“I know Mom. Just lemme stay home today,” Cora said. Helen didn’t have it in her heart to send her back to school anyway so she started the car and headed home. Where was her baby? Sophie was a four-foot perpetual-motion machine of unconditional love, squeals, and cartwheels. No one in their right mind would wish her harm. Who would torture her family this way and why?

Not having the energy to parent, Cora and Helen curled up on the couch when they arrived home. Helen turned on the television and cradled Cora in her arms as they both stared vacantly at the screen.

Sam woke her gently. Helen lifted herself from the couch, careful not to wake Cora. “What time is it?” She asked as she stretched and followed Sam into his office. Sam had always seemed indomitable, but today Helen noticed a bit of grayness in his normally bronze skin as he lowered himself into his  desk chair and gave an uncharacteristic sigh. He seemed to have aged since Sophie’s disappearance. He needed a haircut, his tie was askew, and he looked tired.

“Almost six,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed and loosened his tie. “People look at me like they think if I really loved her, I would be home grieving. But, I can’t stand the empty house. Is that so hard to understand? Work is easier to bear.” Helen knew grief caused people to say and do strange things but she too had shared the thought that he was rushing things along. The wind shrieked through the eaves and rattled a window and Helen shuddered.

“Don’t worry what other people think,” she offered but her voice lacked conviction. “Staying busy helps me too.” She approached him, arms outstretched for an embrace. Sam stood and welcomed her into his arms. They would get through this together, right?

“I feel so guilty,” he said.

Helen had wondered if Sam beat himself up for not walking Sophie to the door.  It had angered her at first, but after careful thought it wasn’t out of character. She herself might have done the same thing. “It’s not your fault,” she answered.

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Imposter is LIVE

If you pick up the book by November 26…you will be entered to win a $50.00 VISA Gift Card!
Here’s how to let me know you bought/gifted a copy;
Imposter Buy Links

The next blockbuster thriller for those who loved The Girl on the Train, Jezebel and The Butterfly Garden…In idyllic Brunswick, Maine, tragedy strikes, leaving one family struggling to stay together. Seven-year-old Sophie Anderson vanished from a neighbors’ front lawn in 2006 leaving the Anderson family reeling. Helen, a mother who never gave up hope. Sam, a father who couldn’t cope. Cora, the even-keeled sister, and Shane, the angry half-brother fought to maintain their family after losing Sophie.
Just when the Anderson’s thought they had moved past Sophie’s disappearance, Cora finds Sophie shivering behind a dumpster in Portland, Maine 10 years later. As Sophie integrates back into her family a series of dark revelations rear their ugly heads leaving you wondering… is anyone who you think they are?
How well do you know your child, your spouse, your best friend or neighbor? How far would you go to protect your family? How many secrets could you keep before your world begins to crumble? How far would you go to better your life? Everyone has skeletons. Everyone lies. The question is, which lies are harmless and which skeletons are meant to be bared?
Imposter Buy Links