Burning Hope

(12)

Red Hooper’s never been what you’d call lucky, but searching for coffee and finding a dead body instead takes things to a whole other level. Even worse, she and her camper van just rolled into town, and being the new girl makes her suspect number one.

Red never lingers in one place for long—she’s got secrets better left undiscovered—and this time she’s definitely overstayed her welcome. Caught in the crosshairs of a police investigation and creeping to the top of the real murderer’s to-do list, Red will have to plant some roots if she’s going to survive.

Easier said than done. It seems like everyone in town has made up their mind about Red…except the mysterious Noah Adams. The gruff townie might be the key to proving her innocence—if he doesn’t bring even more trouble her way. Together they unravel the mystery surrounding the murder, but Red will be forced to embrace her psychic gifts if she’s going to clear her name before the real murderer snuffs her out.

Kirkus calls Burning Hope “An enjoyable tale of self-discovery and suspense set in a hostile small town.”

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The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it.

Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and repeated her question. “Why did they live at the bottom of a well?”

Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and repeated her question. “Why did they live at the bottom of a well?”

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it.

Joyful and beautiful adventure. It will take you to landscapes never seen before!
Tiffany James
Writer

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