What do you think?
Rate this book
365 pages, Paperback
First published February 13, 2018
“She'd known nothing but love here, nothing but kindness. But someone must have left a door open a crack and evil had snuck in when no one was looking.”
“Sometimes you slay a dragon. Sometimes you cut off its head and three more grow in its place.”
“Lie through your teeth. Lie like your life depends on it. Lie like his life depends on it because it does, Allison. It does.”
“She was in danger in this house, but not from violence— unless it was the violence of her own feelings.”
“You have a good heart,” he said. “A lot of people don’t. You shouldn’t wish a good heart away.”
She was in danger in this house, but not from violence— unless it was the violence of her own feelings.
“Lie through your teeth. Lie like your life depends on it. Lie like his life depends on it because it does, Allison. It does.”
“Pull and twist, twist and pull,” Deacon said. “I’m talking about the glass, by the way.”
4.5★★★★Stars
Genre:
General Fiction/Mystery
Type: Standalone
POV: Third Person
"She was in danger in this house, but not from violence— unless it was the violence of her own feelings."
"She saw it in her mind's eye. There were three kids in the picture - all three in red hoodies. One boy with dark blond hair that fell past his ears, one girl with hair so red it was almost orange and one boy with black hair straight as an arrow."
"I dreamed you'd come and find me," she said. "Why me?" "Wishful thinking," she said. "You were always my favorite." "Favorite sibling?" "Favorite person. Ever. On earth. I was a little in love with you. And maybe a little in lust..."
"She'd known nothing but love here, nothing but kindness. But someone must have left a door open a crack and evil had snuck in when no one was looking."
“Louisville, Kentucky, 2015
All Allison wanted was for the conversation to be over. That and she hoped the heavy gray clouds would part and the sun would appear. It could go either way today – sun or rain. She stood at the kitchen window, peeling old paint off the sill as she waited for the Kentucky sky to make up its mind. Meanwhile, sitting behind her at the table, her lover, Cooper McQueen, gently ruined her life.”
"When distant relatives contact you out of nowhere, it's never good. Never."
"Never too late to come home," Roland said, and squeezed her hand again."
"He's good at pretending things are okay when they aren't."
“I’m a little sad,” she said. “But don’t worry. Sad’s the weather, not the climate.”
“Sometimes you slay a dragon. Sometimes you cut off its head and three more grow in its place.”
Roland had hallway eyes—labyrinthine hallways made of marble and lit by torches resting in iron sconces. She could wander those shadowy hallways forever and never once feel lost.
“What are you reading?” she asked.
“Book I picked up at the library this morning,” he said. “Little ditty called Flowers in the Attic. Ever read it?” He looked up at her and grinned as manically as the Joker. Allison glared at him.
“Ohh...” he said, shuddering. “You give a good death stare. Almost better than Thora’s.”
“Roland is not my brother. I am not his sister. We are not flowers nor are we in the attic,” Allison said.
“True, but No Flowers in the Beach House doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,”
“She'd known nothing but love here, nothing but kindness. But someone must have left a door open a crack and evil had snuck in when no one was looking.”
When you love someone, you sometimes make choices you don't want to make. You do things to help them that you wish you didn't have to do
Too many secrets in this house.
So many they were starting to feel like...
Lies.
But they were a family, weren't they? And she'd gotten very good at lying. It didn't even feel like lying anymore. It felt like forgiveness, leaving the past in the past. It felt like mercy. It felt like moving on...And what was one more secret in this house packed to the attic with secrets?
Sometimes you slay a dragon. Sometimes you cut off its head and three more grow in its place
Allison took a step forward and Roland, the man, not the boy, caught her up in his arms. She felt the warm flannel of his shirt against her cheek and the hardness of his broad chest against her breasts. She was seven again in his arms, and safe again in his arms, and home again in his arms. And when was the last time she’d felt all three? Here. With him. Thirteen years ago.
*****************************
“The truth hurts sometimes.”
“It does, yeah,” she said. “But so do lies.”