Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Discover More
About the Author
Also by Nina Laurin
Praise for Nina Laurin
Explore book giveaways, sneak peeks, deals, and more.
ONE
2017
And so the prodigal daughter returns. Again.
I come back the same way I left the first time when I was seventeen: on a shabby Greyhound bus that smells like dandruff. The bus route from Montreal to Marly is a dense web of detours because, I guess, there aren’t enough passengers to justify a direct line. It takes me through the picturesque, hilly, tourist-friendly Eastern Townships and then leaves them behind before I’m 10 percent into my audiobook. The rest of the way is a dull expanse of fields, not very attractive in the early spring, with all the stops in boring little towns with no charm and no hopes of drawing lucrative American visitors. Even if the audiobook could hold my attention for more than five minutes at a time, I know I better not drift too far off or I just might miss my boring little town.
Fortunately, the book is no good. Or maybe it is good, but it’s not doing it for me, the same way most books lately haven’t managed to grab me. As it is, the middle-of-the-road thriller, deal-of-the-day for $0.99 meanders in slow and torturous zigzags, unsure where it’s headed. Maybe we just have too much in common.
