Title: Dead Girls Can't Lie
Book Description:
Best friends tell each other the truth –
don't they?
When North Stone's best friend Kelly Orton
is found hanging lifeless in a tree, North knows for certain it wasn't suicide.
Kelly had everything to live for – a loving boyfriend, a happy life, and most
importantly of all, Kelly would never leave North all by herself.
The girls have been friends since
childhood, devoted to each other, soul sisters, or at least that's what North
has always believed. But did Kelly feel the same way, or was she keeping
secrets from her 'best friend' – deadly secrets...
When the police refuse to take North's
suspicions seriously, she sets out to investigate for herself. But her search
soon takes her to a glamorous world with a seedy underbelly, and before long
North is out of her depth and getting ever closer to danger. Determined to find
the truth, she soon wishes that dead girls could lie, because the truth is too
painful to believe...
I am really excited to be taking part in my first ever blog tour! On this maiden voyage, I am sharing a little taste of Carys Jones' new crime novel, Dead Girls Can't Lie, courtesy of Aria.
Please also make sure to check out the post of my co-host, The Purple Book Stand, and the rest of the great blogs that are participating:
Excerpt:
Kelly didn’t kill herself.
It came again. Her phone had beeped in
acknowledgement. The message had been there. North had read it, twice. But now
it was gone, her inbox suspiciously devoid of it. Even the message she’d
previously taken care to save was gone, it was like a slate had been wiped
clean within the device. As she stared at her phone, North dared to wonder if
exhaustion was playing its usual tricks on her, or worse, if she’d deleted the message
herself in some half-asleep state. But surely she wasn’t capable of that kind
of self-sabotage? Someone was trying to connect with her, trying to get through
and tell her that they believed in the same truth that she did.
Sleep.
The word was almost a mantra. North just
needed to sleep and then everything would start making more sense, things would
stop disappearing.
Kelly didn’t have a cure for insomnia. But
on the nights when North couldn’t sleep they’d sit up together and watch The
Lord of the Rings trilogy. Despite Kelly’s best efforts, she’d usually drift
off before the end of the first movie, leaving North to sit and watch the drama
unfold across Middle Earth on her own. But listening to her friend’s steady
breathing just a few feet away comforted North.
Insomnia was a lonely affliction. It had
first visited North when her parents failed to come home. As the police
searched and her grandparents fretted, she lay wide-eyed on the single bed in
her bedroom. When everyone else was overpowered by exhaustion, she sat at her
window and watched the stars. Kelly couldn’t sneak over back then, not during
the night, not as teenagers. The next day at school she was always wrought with
guilt over her friend’s nightly plight.
‘I’d have stayed up with you,’ Kelly would
insist. ‘You shouldn’t have to be alone, North.’
Back then there was only her namesake, her
star, to keep her company. North would look up at it outshining the rest of its
peers and wonder why her parents chose to name her after something so commanding
when she herself was more darkness than light. A bringer of death, according to
her grandmother.
On the television the gathered fellowship
were daring to journey through dwarven mines which tunnelled deep into the
ground. Too deep. North stirred on her sofa. She’d bought the duvet from her
bedroom and snuggled beneath it but still sleep wouldn’t come. Candlelight
flickered around her but she wasn’t even sure if it was night. The curtains
were drawn. She’d banished any lingering daylight when she returned from Dean’s
flat. She couldn’t return to work. Her grandparents’ home had been sold several
months ago. There was nowhere for her to go except to the hollowness of her
flat. She was just drifting like an unsettled spirit. The DVD boxsets were
stacked up beside the television, where they always were in case of such an
occasion. Something to occupy the dead hours when everyone else was sleeping.
North pulled her duvet up to her shoulders, wishing she could hear the soft
breathing of her friend over the epic soundtrack.
Banging.
North twisted upon the sofa and blinked at
the television. The characters looked afraid, backed into the corner of a stone
room as a terrible sound echoed out from the depths.
More banging.
‘What?’ North rubbed at her eyes. Had she fallen
asleep? Perhaps she’d slipped into a doze. The banging was coming from the
television, wasn’t it? She stared at the screen as the banging continued. It
seemed to be coming from everywhere. ‘Urgh,’ she pressed the heel of her hands
against her temples. First insomnia came for her sleep and then her sanity.
Once, she spent an entire week believing that Leonardo DiCaprio had emailed
her. She’d imagined the whole thing. Or even dreamt it. It was hard to know
what was real and what wasn’t when sleep failed to visit her. Of course Kelly
had believed her. She’d kindly sat at North’s side as she frantically trawled
through her inbox trying to find the evidence and then, when it failed to
materialise, agreed that it must be a malfunction within the computer.
North moved from rubbing her eyes. The
banging didn’t stop even though the scene on the television had moved on. With
a groan, North reached for the remote and paused the action, freezing all of
the characters mid-motion. The banging bounced around her little flat. Someone
was at her front door and they were hammering on it with great force.
‘I’m coming!’ North shouted over the ruckus
as she shed the duvet. She shivered away from its warm embrace. Hugging her
arms around herself she scurried across her flat towards her door. She pulled
it open without pausing to look through the peephole. ‘Dean?’
He was standing in the corridor, one fist
still held in the air ready to pound on her door again. His muscles twitched as
though he was consumed with restless energy. His eyes were bloodshot and there
was a wildness to him. A wildness which concerned North. She took a tentative
step back and he immediately advanced towards her.
About the Author:
Carys Jones loves nothing more than to write and create stories which ignite the reader's imagination. Based in Shropshire, England, Carys lives with her husband, two guinea pigs and her adored canine companion Rollo.
Connect with Carys on:
Twitter: @tiny_dancer85
Facebook: @CarysJonesWriter
Instagram: tiny_dancer_8
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