Title: Crimson Cove Mysteries
Author: Tara Brown
Genre: YA romance, horror, mystery, and thriller
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Reviews & PR
Flirting, first love, fighting for your life.
All the things that represent a spectacular fall in Crimson Cove, named after the sight one sees when the trees all turn red in the crisp autumn air.
When school starts and the events of the summer no one is likely to forget haven't been solved, the five girls decide to take matters into their own hands.
But the problem with lifting stones to find the secrets hidden under them is that you never can tell just what lies beneath.
For the five unlikely friends, what lies beneath involves each and every one of them.
And as the story twists and turns, they start to see they are each connected to the murder and the disappearance still rocking the small sea side community.
Don't miss the exciting second book in The Crimson Cove Mysteries.
Third Time’s a Charm
Kisses, kindred spirits, and killings.
The three things that sum up a Christmas in Crimson Cove.
When Christmas break starts, everyone assumes there will be an armistice.
But the killer thing about Christmas parties is someone always spikes the eggnog.
Just when the girls think they have the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, everything falls apart when a third body lands on the pile.
And this person is someone no one expected to find dead. Or find at all.
Don't miss the suspenseful third book in the Crimson Cove Mystery.
Love, lilies, and a lady in black?
Love, lilies, and a lady in black?
Some things you expect in the spring in Crimson Cove, and others you don't.
The five girls have come to expect it all over the course of the eight months, but when a woman in black starts haunting their footsteps not one of them is prepared for the tidings she brings.
Or who she's related to.
But as the residents of our favorite little town start to squirm under the pressure of the mounting numbers of deaths, the girls start to see the pattern in the crimes being committed.
They start to see that no one is safe, because the killer can reach all four of the Crimson corners.
Don't miss the frightening fourth book in The Crimson Cove Mystery Series.
I believe growing up in a really small town gives a person a little advantage when it comes to the imagination. You need one or you go mad.
Needless to say, mine saved me. After it got me into trouble first, that is. That's the problem with a vivid imagination, all the lies you tell.
I am happily married with two daughters.
I have two giant dogs, two savage cats, and a penchant for a glass of red.
Also, I drag my bread through the sauce. I can't help myself, bread is life.
According to my age, I am meant to be a responsible adult, but it isn't going well at all. I would still head off to Hogwarts tomorrow and I suspect there isn't a single wardrobe I haven't crept into, hoping to find the door to Narnia. And don't even get me started on the King's Road, I get lost.
Fortunately, I am an international bestseller so I have wormed my way into a quirky or eccentric category.
Thank God for that.
I am represented by Natalie Lakosil from the Bradford Literary Agency and am published traditionally with Montlake Romance.
Second Nature: http://amzn.to/2eImPJJ
Third Time’s a Charm: http://amzn.to/2uPFYjq
Four Crimson Corners: http://amzn.to/2vBiA6L
Excerpt from Second Nature:
October 31, 2015
The noise of the creaking stairs, the ones I had just crept up, sounded like it echoed in my ears. Someone had followed us here. “Jake,” I whispered, hoping he was messing around. If he was, I would be angry. I lifted one leg after the other and slipped my high heels off, holding them both so I could tiptoe through the half-constructed mansion without making noise. Jake didn't answer, but the footsteps had stopped from the moment I whispered. The scary movie marathon we’d had before Rachel died flashed through my head, bringing ideas and memories with it. I tiptoed around the corner, brushing my Frankenstein’s bride dress on the rough edge where the unfinished walls met. The drywall scraped against me, making me wince as I hurried along the corridor to the back deck. Whoever was in the house with me was either moving silently too or they were standing still, listening. Either way, I had a terrible feeling this wasn't a game. That meant one thing: Jake was injured or hiding. And I was alone. My heart raced, my eyes burned from not blinking—fearful I would miss something—and my mouth was as dry as a mouthful of popcorn. The floor creaked. I froze. “Sierra,” someone whispered into the dark. My skin crawled when I realized it wasn't Jake. It wasn't his whisper. I’d heard that enough times, always in the dark, to know it wasn't him. “Sierra, don't be scared.” It sounded like something it couldn't be, but I didn't believe. I stayed perfectly still, waiting for the moment I needed to run to the back deck and jump down onto the sandy beach. What had the girls in the horror movies done wrong? What could I avoid? My mind raced, remembering the runners always got caught. They always got stabbed. Usually in the back. The thought of it made my skin burn where I imagined the knife would slice. The hiders always got caught. They were the ones breathing too loudly or hiding in stupid places. “Sierra, I won’t hurt you if you come to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second and waited for the answer, the right choice, to pop into my head. A dog barked, making me jump and open my eyes. The sound was joined by the creaking of the floorboards again. With gentle breaths and controlled movements I crept along the hallway, entering the spot where the kitchen or master bedroom would likely go. The house was freshly sealed with windows and doors, but it was still in the drywall stage with plywood floors. The massive back deck was through the white French doors, facing the beach and open ocean. The moon offered light, enough to make shadows move with me. I hurried to an alcove I assumed would one day be a nook for a breakfast bar or maybe the ensuite soaker tub. I pressed my back against the wall and stared at the bright white French doors. If I could make it to them, I was free. If only I had my cell phone, I could call the police or Jake or Vincent. Someone would come and help me. Even Ashton might answer. But that wasn't an option. I scolded myself for my weakness in me and forced my focus to be on the doors. They were my answer. They were my hope. As I exhaled and plotted my moment to run and everything I would do from that point on, the floor creaked in the hallway behind me. It was now or never. Live or die. I took one more breath and pushed off from the wall…