Nicole Trope

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Nicole Trope

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May 2012


Nicole Trope went to university to study Law but realised the error of her ways when she did very badly on her first law essay because-as her professor pointed out- ‘It’s not meant to be a story.’ She studied teaching instead and used her holidays to work on her writing career and complete a Masters’ degree in Children’s Literature. After the birth of her first child she stayed home full time to write and raise children, renovate houses and build a business with her husband.
The idea for her first published novel, The Boy under the Table, was so scary that it took a year for her to find the courage to write the emotional story. Her second novel, Three Hours Late, was voted one of Fifty Books you can’t put down in 2013 and her third novel, T
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Nicole Trope I find that domestic tasks like doing the washing or cleaning free the mind. While my hands are busy I often find solutions to problems in my novel.
Nicole Trope Working from home when it's cold but working alone all the time can also be difficult. I can also set my own hours but that means that I land up…moreWorking from home when it's cold but working alone all the time can also be difficult. I can also set my own hours but that means that I land up working late at night as well.(less)
Average rating: 4.06 · 6,593 ratings · 878 reviews · 9 distinct worksSimilar authors
The Boy in the Photo

4.25 avg rating — 1,056 ratings3 editions
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The Boy Under the Table

4.23 avg rating — 1,818 ratings — published 2012 — 7 editions
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My Daughter's Secret

4.03 avg rating — 681 ratings3 editions
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Blame

3.97 avg rating — 677 ratings — published 2016 — 6 editions
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Three Hours Late

3.79 avg rating — 775 ratings — published 2013 — 5 editions
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The Secrets in Silence

3.80 avg rating — 639 ratings — published 2014 — 7 editions
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Hush, Little Bird

4.01 avg rating — 490 ratings — published 2015 — 9 editions
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Forgotten

4.14 avg rating — 325 ratings — published 2017 — 5 editions
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Roar

3.64 avg rating — 132 ratings — published 2014 — 5 editions
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" Brenda wrote: "Congratulations Nicole! That's awesome :)"

Thanks Brenda :)
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" I am delighted to say that The Boy in the Photo has been nominated for the: NOT THE BOOKER PRIZE. If you’ve read and loved it, I would love it if you ...more "
Nicole Trope is now friends with Glen
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" 'There’s a lot of information on the internet about how to survive your child being taken from you but very little on what to do if he comes back.' Th ...more "
" Wow thanks-it's so lovely to hear that. I hope you enjoy the next one :) "
" Absolutely delighted to announce that my novel: My daughter’s secret is now available for reviewers to request on Netgalley: https://www.netgalley.com/catalog/boo... "
Nicole Trope liked a question about Forgotten:
Forgotten by Nicole Trope
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Nicole Trope answered Goodreads's question: Nicole Trope
Working from home when it's cold but working alone all the time can also be difficult. I can also set my own hours but that means that I land up working late at night as well.
More of Nicole's books…
“Kids didn’t just disappear unless someone made them disappear.‘Relax, mate,’ the head of security said. ‘We’ve never lost one yet.’ Lots of kids wandered off at the Easter Show, he told them. They were always found, usually somewhere near the food.Doug had tried to relax, to stay calm, but he could feel the panic building inside him.The place was too big.There were too many people.Lockie could be anywhere. The police were called. It took hours for everyone to leave the showgrounds because every family was stopped. Every parent was questioned and every child identified. It was way past midnight when everyone had finally gone home, and still they had not found Lockie.The head of security changed his tone. The police held whispered conversations in groups. They began to look at him with sympathy in their eyes.Doug felt his heart slow down. There was a ringing in his ears. He was underwater and he couldn’t swim.Lockie was gone.They had lost one.Sammy had gone from impatience to hunger to exhaustion. She didn’t understand what was happening.Sarah sat next to the pram twisting her hands. She did not cry. She didn’t cry for days, but every time Doug went near her he could hear her muttering the word ‘please’. ‘Please, please, please, please.’ It drove Doug mad and he had to move away because he wanted to hit her, to snap her out of her trance. He had never lifted a hand to his wife or his children, but now he had to close his fist and dig his nails into his palm to keep himself from lashing out
Sarah didn’t believe in hitting children; she believed in time out and consequences. It was different to the way Doug had been raised but he had come around to the idea. The thought of anyone—especially himself—hurting Sarah and the kids was almost too much to bear.Doug sometimes wondered, after, if whoever had taken his son had hit him. When he did think about someone hurting his boy he could feel his hands curl into fists. He would embrace the rush of heat that came with the anger because at least it was a different feeling to the sorrow and despair. Anger felt constructive. He wanted to kill everyone, even himself. But as fast as the anger came it would recede and he would be back at the place he hated to be. Mired in his own helplessness. There was fuck-all he could do.”
Nicole Trope, The Boy Under the Table

“Now she took the pills and, just before she closed her eyes, she summoned Lockie and his smile, and then the dreams would come.In her dream her golden boy tries again and again and again to stand up on the boogie board until he manages to remain upright for at least a minute. In her dream Sarah can feel the tears on her cheeks. Her golden boy was lost and she was too. She tried to dream that they found each other again but she couldn’t control her dreams any more than she could control her nightmares.”
Nicole Trope, The Boy Under the Table

“Right now he needed to concentrate on keeping himself under control. Inside, his gut churned. There was a war going on. The joy of holding his son again clashed with the waves of anger that rose higher and higher with each passing moment. He thought he had known why Pete had arrived at the farm. He had pushed the fork into the soil and watched the earth turn over sure that the truth of their tragedy was about to be laid before them. He had watched the dry earth give up the rich brown soil and wanted to stay there forever in the cold garden just watching his fork move the earth. He had not wanted to hear what Pete had to say. And now this..this..What did you call this? A miracle? What else could it be? But this miracle was tainted. He was not holding the same boy he had taken to the Easter Show.
This thin child with shaved hair was not the Lockie he knew. Someone had taken that child. They had taken his child and he could feel by the weight of him they had starved him. Someone had done this to him. They had done this and god knew what else. Doug walked slowly into the house, trying to find the right way to break the news to Sarah.
She was lying down in the bedroom again. These days she spent more time there than anywhere else. Doug walked slowly through the house to the main bedroom at the back. It was the only room in the house whose curtains were permanently closed.
How damaged was his child? Would he ever be the same boy they had taken up to the Show ? What had been done to him? Dear God, what had been done to him? His ribs stuck out even under the jumper he was wearing. It was not his jumper. He had been dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, perfect for the warm day. He had a cap with a Bulldogs logo. What could have happened to his clothes? How long had he had the jumper?Doug bit his lip. First things first.
He opened the bedroom door cautiously and looked into the gloom. Sarah was on her back. Her mouth was slightly open. She was fast asleep. The room smelled musty with the heater on. Sarah slept tightly wrapped in her covers. Doug swallowed. He wanted to run into the room whooping and shouting that Lockie was home but Sarah was so fragile he had no idea how she would react. He walked over to the window and opened the curtains. Outside it was getting dark already but enough light entered the room to wake Sarah up. She moaned and opened her eyes.
‘Oh god, Doug, please just close them. I’m so tired.’
Doug sat down on the bed and Sarah turned her back to him. She had not looked at him. Lockie opened his eyes and looked around the room.
‘Ready to say hello to Mum, mate?’ Doug asked.
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Lockie to his mother’s back. His voice had changed. It was deeper and had an edge to it. He sounded older. He sounded like someone who had seen too much. But Sarah would know it was her boy.
Doug saw Sarah’s whole body tense at the sound of Lockie’s voice and then she reached her arm behind her and twisted the skin on her back with such force Doug knew she would have left a mark.
‘It’s not a dream, Sarah,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s home.’
Sarah sat up, her eyes wide.
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Lockie again.
‘Hello, my boy,’ said Sarah softly. Softly, as though he hadn’t been missing for four months. Softly, as though he had just been away for a day.
Softly, as though she hadn’t been trying to die slowly.
Softly she said, ‘Hello, my boy.’
Doug could see her chest heaving.
‘We’ve been looking for you,’ she said, and then she held out her arms. Lockie climbed off Doug’s lap and onto his mother’s legs. She wrapped her arms around him and pushed her nose into his neck, finding his scent and identifying her child. Lockie buried his head against her breasts and then he began to cry. Just soft little sobs that were soon matched by his mother’s tears. Doug wanted them to stop but tears were good. He would have to get used to tears.”
Nicole Trope, The Boy Under the Table

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