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Excerpt Reveal: Such a Lovely Family by Aggie Blum Thompson

Such a Lovely FamilyThe cherry blossoms are in full bloom in Washington, D.C., and the Calhouns are in the midst of hosting their annual party to celebrate the best of the spring season. With a house full of friends, neighbors, and their beloved three adult children, the Calhouns are expecting another picture-perfect event. But a brutal murder in the middle of the celebration transforms the yearly gathering into a homicide scene, and all the guests into suspects.

Behind their façade of perfection, the Calhoun family has been keeping some very dark secrets. Parents who use money and emotional manipulation to control their children. Two sons, one the black sheep who is desperate to outrun mistakes he’s made, and the other a new father, willing to risk everything to protect his child. And a daughter: an Instagram influencer who refuses to face the truth about the man she married.

As the investigation heats up, family tensions build, and alliances shift. Long-buried resentments surface, forcing the Calhouns to face their darkest secrets before it’s too late.

Such a Lovely Family will be available on March 12th, 2024. Please enjoy the following excerpt!


CHAPTER ONE

Trying to be this perfect hurts.

The silk dress compresses Danit’s ribs, the three-inch espadrilles squeeze her toes, and the incessant smiling for the photographer makes her face sore. But pain is a small price to pay to belong. To finally be, at twenty-six years old, part of a family.

And not just any family—the Calhouns.

Ellie Grace slips her arm around Danit’s waist as the photographer calls out, “Fromage!” The pressure of her future sisterin-law’s arm against Danit’s ribs unleashes a warm feeling, the same sensation she used to get as a child when her mother would play with her curls. An almost primordial sense of belonging. I will finally have a sister, Danit thinks.

Danit fell hard and fast for Nate last year. That first month or two, it was hard to imagine wanting or needing anything more than him. But then she met his little boy, Malcolm, and saw pictures of his parents and brother and sister and realized that he came with this incredible family. And that by marrying him, she would instantly belong to his family as well. It was more than she had ever dreamed of.

Although this morning did get off to a rocky start with Ellie Grace, Danit attributes that to the stress of organizing the annual Calhoun cherry blossom party. When she and Nate and Malcolm arrived late last night to Nate’s childhood home, Ginny and Thom were already in bed. So her first introduction to the Calhoun family was this morning, when she came down for breakfast and found Ellie Grace fuming about missing flowers. When she turned on Danit, she was abrupt, bordering on rude.

“You’re not wearing blue-and-white gingham.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. Ellie Grace was wearing a sleeveless shirtdress in the checkered pattern.

“I . . . didn’t know I was supposed to,” Danit stammered, ashamed to have stepped in it so soon with Nate’s sister. When Danit was back in California packing for the trip, she had asked Nate if there was something special she should bring for the party. It was the first time she would be meeting her future in-laws, and she wanted to make a good impression. She knew they were wealthy, and she was nervous that what she had would not be good enough. But Nate had said nothing about blue-and-white gingham.

Thank goodness Ellie Grace had shown up with a collection of shirts, dresses, skirts, and wraps—all in gingham. Ellie Grace hustled Danit into the wood-paneled study off the living room to change. “I knew someone would forget. I’m sure I’ve got something in here that will fit you. Coastal Cues, that’s one of the brands we collaborate with, sent me a whole bunch of these. Here we go, this is cute!” She held up a sheath dress—navy blue on top and gingham from the waist down. You’re what, a size eight?”

“Ten, actually.”

Really, Danit is a twelve. Sometimes a fourteen. But it was nothing that a little Spanx and holding her breath wouldn’t take care of. And she wanted to please Ellie Grace.

“Give me that Calhoun smile!” the photographer orders with the verve of a cheerleading captain.

The Calhouns shift ever so slightly for the photographer, their stately white house in the background. From the corner of her eye, Danit glances at Nate’s parents—Thom, with his athletic build and perpetual tan, and Ginny, whose smooth, unlined face belies her sixty-two years. She hasn’t had a chance to really talk to them yet, not with the chaos of the party, and she has no idea what she will say to them when the opportunity arises.

Danit worries she might pass out from the warmth of everyone’s bodies and the constriction of the dress. The late-spring sun isn’t helping. It was much cooler in Mendocino when they left yesterday. Next to her, Malcolm fusses in Nate’s arms, and she takes the baby happily. He plays with the diamond on her ring finger

“Since you’re not yet technically a Calhoun . . .” Ginny winks at Danit, letting her finish the thought for herself.

“Oh, of course!” She steps away from the group and out of the photo.

“That’s ridiculous,” Nate says, but Danit shakes her head at him and smiles to let him know she understands. Which she doesn’t, of course. She’s never been in a family portrait—there was just her and her mom growing up. But she can kind of see where Ginny is coming from.

After all, Nate has already been divorced once.

This photo will go out this Christmas and feature the whole clan, all of them wearing some iteration of blue-and-white gingham. The men in button-downs, their sleeves rolled up, a little bow tie for baby Malcolm, a headband for Ginny, and so on. Even matching collars for the two French bulldogs, Asti and Spumante.

Ginny might be worried that the marriage will not go through and they will be stuck with photographic evidence of a failed relationship.

But it will. Danit is sure of it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Danit can see the first guests arriving. And just like that, the photographs are over and the party has begun. Light jazz begins to play from hidden speakers, and it seems to Danit that the pink and white tulips planted along the front border stand up and salute as if on cue. The Calhouns scatter and, almost like magic, waiters appear, circulating the lawn with shrimp puffs and mini quiches and trays of fizzy pink drinks.

Suddenly finding herself alone, Danit grabs a drink off a tray and takes a big sip. She doesn’t want to get drunk, of course. She wants just enough to take the edge off. Meeting all your future in-laws at once is tough to tackle sober.


Click below to pre-order your copy of Such a Lovely Family, coming March 12th 2024!

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Forge Your Own Book Club: All the Dirty Secrets by Aggie Blum Thompson

All the Dirty SecretsBy Ariana Carpentieri:

It’s currently the middle of summer, which means the weather is warm, the beaches are poppin’, iced coffee is officially in-season, the fireflies are glowing, and the days of relaxing with a good book while basking in the sunshine are finally upon us. If your book club is planning to read All the Dirty Secrets by Aggie Blum Thompson, we’ve got the scoop for you on what to watch, what to drink, what to eat, what to listen to, and what to discuss!


What to Watch:

All the Dirty Secrets focuses on the perspectives of both a mother, Liza Gold, and her standoffish teenage daughter, Zoe. Their relationship has a major shift over the course of the book. So if you love storylines that take place in the summertime with an emphasis on teenage/parent relationships and deep secrets that could tear everything apart, then we suggest you take a look at The Summer I Turned Prettyan Amazon Prime show that portrays love and heartbreak during what should’ve been the perfect summer.

What to Drink:

Chapter one starts off with the mention of a whiskey sour—a drink that will pack the perfect punch for such a strong read like this one. But if you’d rather sip on something a little less potent, then a whiskey sour mocktail would work just as well!

What to Eat:

According to Kaira Rouda, USA Today and international bestselling author, “All the Dirty Secrets will have you racing to the end. This tale was so chillingly real it could have been ripped from the headlines. I loved it!” AKA: You’re going to want to settle in and grab a big bucket of popcorn for this one. You’re in for a wild, thrilling ride.

What to Listen To:

Looking for the perfect playlist to accompany this thrilling read? We’ve got you covered! Aggie put together a killer list of 90s songs that will have you all up in your feels. Click here to check out the full blog post featuring Aggie’s breakdown of her song choices and peruse the Spotify playlist below!

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What to Discuss:

Download the All the Dirty Secrets Reading Group Guide for insightful questions to get the discussion going:

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Click below to order your copy of All the Dirty Secrets, available now!

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Aggie Blum Thompson’s Killer 90s Playlist!

All the Dirty SecretsAggie Blum Thompson’s All the Dirty Secrets is a thrilling tale that asks how far you would go to protect your status and your family…and if some secrets should ever be revealed. And what better way to fully immerse yourself in a gripping book like this one than to have a killer playlist that accompanies it? Read below to see Aggie’s incredible list of 90s bops that’ll have you vibing out, reminiscing about your own teenage angst, and feeling all sorts of nostalgic!

 

 


By Aggie Blum Thompson:

Some decades are more difficult to define than others. You say 1920s, I say roaring. When we think of the 40s, Rosie the riveter and Victory Gardens come to mind. But the 90s? What is unifying about a decade that started with the fall of the Berlin Wall and ended with the overhyped Y2K threat that the entire world was about to implode?

Writing the chapters of All the Dirty Secrets that took place in 1994 thrust me back in time to the last decade that gave us TV shows that were cultural touchpoints – Friends, Seinfeld, The X-Files. To a time when Cable TV news erupted on the scene, crawling its way through our national consciousness with nonstop coverage of events like O.J. Simpson’s white Bronco ride and subsequent trial, of Monica Lewinsky’s blue dress and its implications, of shootouts between the feds and far-right groups at Ruby Ridge and Waco.

The nineties gave us both blockbusters that spawned industries – like Titanic and Jurassic Park — and films showcasing Gen X sarcasm – think Slacker and Clerks. The internet was a just a wee baby and was dominated by AOL. In a world before streaming, Apple Music, or Spotify, a file-sharing giant called Napster allowed strangers to exchange, illegally, songs for free. But my favorite part of writing these chapters was researching the music that rocked the decade. Here is a completely incomplete list of the soundtrack of the 90s.

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  1. Freedom 90! by George Michael (1990). Released as the first single from his second solo album, Listen Without Prejudice Vol. 1, Michael sang, “There’s something deep inside of me/There’s someone else I’ve got to be,” ushering in an era of songs that celebrated the LGBTQ community. The 80s were a tough time to be publicly gay, but the 90s saw several commercial artists openly embrace their queer identity — like k.d. lang with her hit Constant Craving, Melissa Etheridge and Come to My Window, and RuPaul’s Supermodel (You Better Work).
  2. Alive by Pearl Jam (1991). The neon colors and big hair of the 80s collapsed at the turn of the decade under the weight of a terrible economy and a war in the Middle East. All of a sudden, grunge emerged from the shadows of the alternative rock scene, as hits like Soundgarden’s Black Hole Sun, Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit, and Man In The Box by Alice in Chains exploded onto the charts. Everyone started wearing flannel, baby doll dresses, and doc martens, and packed the theaters to watch Singles and Reality Bites.
  3. Finally by CeCe Peniston (1991). House and club music may have been around since club DJs began spinning records at a tempo of 120 beats per minute, but they didn’t take America by storm until the early 90s thanks to a series of breakout hits featuring Black female voices — such as Robin S. (Show Me Love) and Martha Wash (Everybody, Everybody) – who often appeared on hits uncredited.
  4. The Rain King by Counting Crows (1993). This buoyant, jangly rock song was a single on the band’s debut album, showcasing their poetic lyrics, singable choruses, and desire to carry the torch of classic rock artists like Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, and Bruce Springsteen into the 90s. The Counting Crows helped us move past grunge into an era of hits the whole family could sing along to in the car, like I Only Wanna Be with You by Hootie and the Blowfish, Run Around by Blues Traveler, and Jealousy by the Gin Blossoms.
  5. Cornflake Girl by Tori Amos (1994). Her brilliant album Under the Pink is an example of the virtuoso women artists who appeared on the music scene in the nineties, often defying categorization – not quite pop or rock, R&B or country. Songs like Sarah McLachlan’s “Possesion,” Erykah Badu’s “On & On,” and Liz Phair’s “Never Said.” For several summers, the performers who gathered at Lilith Fair consisted solely of female solo artists and female-led bands. In its initial three years, Lilith Fair raised over $10 million for charity.
  6. Mo Money Mo Problems by Notorious B.I.G. feat. Mase & Puff Daddy (1997). Rap arrived big-time in the 90s, breaking off into diverse subgenres that dominated the charts with hits like Snoop Dog’s Gin and Juice, Lauryn Hill’s Doo Wop (That Thing), and Eminem’s My Name Is. Mo Money Mo Problems, an infectious danceable mega-hit that sampled Diana Ross’s joyful I’m Coming Out, showcased Biggie Smalls bragging about his fame and success. Sadly, he did not live to reap the rewards of this huge hit as he was murdered a few months before it was released.
  7. I Want it That Way by the Backstreet Boys (1999). Boy bands had been around a while – the 80s had Menudo, New Edition and New Kids on the Block — but the concept really blew up in the 90s. Suddenly, everywhere you turned were attractive but anodyne young men in coordinated outfits who wanted to sing and dance their way into your heart with hits like I Do by 98 Degrees, I Want You Back by ‘NSYNC, and Motown Philly by Boys II Men.
  8. Don’t Look Back in Anger by Oasis (1996). Not all the boy bands were happy and knew how to dance. Some were deeply angry and really wanted you to know. They whined. They growled. They yelled. They would have flipped their lids if you called them boy bands. But some of them — like Bush (Glycerine), Offspring (Self Esteem), and Live (Lightning Strikes) — made pretty good music.
  9. You’re Still the One by Shania Twain (1998). This gorgeous love song crossed over from country and became a huge mainstream hit, aided by a sexy video featuring the Canadian singer. Suddenly, country was cool and showing up on the pop charts with songs like How Do I Live by LeAnn Rimes, This Kiss by Faith Hill, and Amazed by Lonestar.
  10. Mambo No. Five by Lou Bega (1999). Who? you ask. Of course you can’t remember the artist, but there’s no way you don’t remember this earworm. It joins those one-hit wonders of the nineties like Macarena, Barbie Girl, Baby Got Back, and I’m Too Sexy that you hate-love but can’t stop singing along to. In fact, I bet you’re humming one right now. If not, let me help . . . a little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side . . .

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Excerpt: All the Dirty Secrets by Aggie Blum Thompson

All the Dirty SecretsSet in the upscale DC private school scene, where silence can easily be bought, Aggie Blum Thompson’s All the Dirty Secrets asks how far you would go to protect your status and your family, and if some secrets should ever be revealed.

One warm summer night twenty-five years ago, Liza Gold and her friends celebrated their high school graduation with a party on the beach. It should have been the best night of their lives, only one of them never came back out of the ocean.

The tragedy haunted Liza Gold for years. Now, she’s a recently divorced working mom struggling to connect with her standoffish teenager daughter Zoe when history repeats itself. Another young woman has drowned at Beach Week, and this time the victim is Zoe’s secret best friend.

Liza begins to suspect that the two deaths are somehow related, which causes her to face hard truths and take an unflinching look at the people she’s called her closest friends for the past two decades. She must discover what really happened to both women before it’s too late.

All the Dirty Secrets will be available on July 12th, 2022. Please enjoy the following excerpt!


CHAPTER ONE

LIZA

If your friends won’t lie to you, who will?

“Seriously, Liza. You do not look a day over thirty.” Shelby takes a big swig of her whiskey sour and crunches down on an ice cube. “I mean, you still got it.”

“Uh-huh.” I blink. I look every day of my forty-six years, and she knows it. Shelby has been my personal cheerleader since we met at Washington Prep in sixth grade, and I don’t know what I’d do without her slightly deluded optimism. Especially this past year.

“I agree.” Todd leans across the small table so he can be heard above the din of the bar. “I’d date you.”

“Gross.” Shelby punches him in the shoulder. “You mean if you weren’t married to her best friend, right, hon?”

Archer lets out a howl, and Todd rubs his arm with exaggerated care. I laugh, too, maybe for the first time in months. The four of us have been friends since high school, and when we’re together, some subtle alchemy happens that melts away all of life’s problems.

Washington, and all the frenzied hustle of our complicated, busy lives, is less than three hours away, but crossing the Bay Bridge this afternoon was like traveling back in time to when we had nothing to worry about but how we would fill a long weekend.

Together, here in Dewey Beach, we are forever young.

“Remember when we needed fake IDs to get in to the Corkboard?” Todd asks.

We didn’t need fake IDs.” Shelby gestures toward me. “’Cause we were cute.”

If anyone doesn’t look a day over thirty, she doesn’t. While Todd’s hair is salt and pepper now, and Archer has a few smile lines at the edges of his eyes, Shelby looks virtually the same. Thanks to an annual self-care budget equal to the GDP of a small nation and some good genes, she has the same glossy blond hair, smooth skin, and compact body she had in high school. I’d be jealous if I didn’t know how much damn effort it took. I enjoy my nightly half pint of ice cream too much.

“Here’s to Dewey.” Archer raises his glass. I raise mine. The Corkboard hasn’t changed. It’s still the perfect beach town bar— dark, divey, and ripe for anonymous make-out sessions. And there’s a pretty good crowd for a Sunday night. I watch as a woman nearby takes an oddly angled selfie that clearly includes Archer.

It always amuses me to see how people react to having a celebrity near them. And not a politician but a real celebrity like Archer. He’s even better looking in life than on TV, where his makeup smooths out the variations in his brown skin and gives him a plastic perfection. And fame like his makes people act weird. In D.C., most try to act stoic, as if acknowledging fame is a personal weakness. And Washington is nothing if not a town of overachievers with iron wills.

But we’re not in D.C. tonight.

The woman appears at Archer’s elbow. Up close, it’s clear from the way she is wobbling and having trouble keeping her kohl-rimmed eyes open that she’s drunk.

“Can I get a pic?” She gestures to the two women behind her, who wave. “We’re from Balmer.”

“Happy to oblige.” Archer scoots one way, and we all lean back the other way to provide them room. Even back in high school, Archer had that effect on people. He wasn’t voted God’s Gift to Women senior year for nothing.

“You’re so cute,” she says. “What’s your name again, hon? I know it’s not Don Lemon.”

Archer laughs. “Archer Benoit.”

“Oh, I knew that.” She wobbles away as our table erupts in laughter.

“Oh. My. God.” Shelby squeals.

“That was a great Baltimore accent,” Todd says. “Balmer?”

“And I love how she’s like, I know you’re not the Black guy on CNN . . .” Shelby laughs.

“Right? Why not just ask your name?” I sip my drink. “Why drag Don Lemon into it?”

“You would be surprised how often that happens. Sometimes they straight-up ask if I’m friends with Don Lemon. I’m like, no, he lives in New York, I live in D.C., and we work for competing news channels.”

Todd looks at his watch, then raps the table with his knuckles. “We’d better get going. We’re going to try to catch up with Chris tonight. Last chance, ladies.”

“Chris de Groot? Really?” Chris was part of our crew in high school, but has since drifted away. According to a Washington Post profile I read, he’s keeping busy churning out his Kurt Jericho: Rogue CIA Agent series. But I wonder if copious amounts of scotch, and a few DUIs, don’t also play a role.

“He’s at his beach house now?” I ask.

“Yeah, we’re going to head down there.”

“I keep trying to get him to return my emails.” Over the years, I’ve reached out to Chris, hoping he’d agree to let me write a profile on him for the school’s alumni magazine, where I work. In high school, he, Archer, and Todd were an inseparable trio. But if we do get a correspondence going, it peters out before I can get him to commit to anything. “He’s up to what—novel fifteen at this point, right?”

“Those books are crap,” says Shelby without looking up from her glass.

“And you’ve read them?” Archer raises an eyebrow.

“What? I read books.” Shelby tosses back her drink. “Anyway, I don’t need to read them. I read the Amazon reviews. Too many heaving bosoms and explosions.”

“Heaving bosoms and explosions,” Archer repeats and winks at me. “Good name for our band.”

I laugh. We’ve had a running joke about potential band names since Mr. Mooney’s civics class in tenth grade, when we first decided Penal Offense would be a great name.

“Forget novels,” Todd says. “Apparently, Netflix is making a series out of the books.”

“Oh, really?” I ask. My boss, Geoff, would go nuts for that. I can see the headline now: Wash Prep alum takes on Hollywood.

“Look at you all excited.” Archer smirks, but I can actually sense an undercurrent of competition. You don’t get to be a cable news star by being laid-back about other people getting more attention than you do.

“Well, I can’t keep writing about you, Archer.” I give him a wicked smile.

Shelby and Todd laugh. Because I do keep writing stories about Archer, and he loves it. I don’t add that it’s in large part because my boss is starstruck by Archer and always leaning on me to exploit my personal friendship with him.

Todd stands up. “All right.” He gives Shelby a long kiss on her mouth. I have to look away. Even though I know that their relationship has seen its ups and downs over the years, this display of affection stings me like lemon juice on a cut. In the wake of my recent divorce, I don’t need to see someone else’s marital bliss up close. Not too mature of me, but there’s no denying it.

Archer leans in for a friendly peck on the cheek. He’s like a second brother to me, and save for one drunken and horribly awkward attempt at a hookup during college spring break in Florida, we’ve never been tempted to try anything romantic. “We still on for coffee Tuesday morning?”

“Yup. See you in D.C.” I have to interview him for the article, although I don’t think there is much I don’t already know about Archer.

“Don’t you girls get into too much trouble,” Todd says, and they’re off. I watch them push through the crowd that has gathered to listen to a nineties cover band that is tuning up. When I turn back, I notice that the phone on the table is Todd’s. It has a gray case. Everything Shelby has is pink.

“I think Todd grabbed your phone by accident,” I say.

She makes a pouty face and picks up Todd’s phone. “Dummy. I’d better let him know.” She types quickly into the phone and then turns to me.

“Of course you know his password.” Daniel never shared his with me. That should have been a sign.

“We share everything!” Shelby makes a cutie-pie face and then laughs. “Sooooo, see any cute guys here?”

“We’re not here to pick up guys for me,” I say. “We’re at the beach to spy on your kids.” She and Todd have boy-girl twins, Brody and Kinsey, who have just graduated from Washington Prep, and like the majority of recent high school grads in the D.C. area, they’re spending this week partying at the beach, just like we did when we were their age.

“Spy? You’re going to do the same exact thing when Zoe’s a senior.”

I laugh. “I know. But I have two more years until I have to think about that.”

Back when we were in high school, our parents sent us to Beach Week in cars loaded with beer, or in our case, Shelby’s mom bought us Zima so we wouldn’t have to drink our calories. But the overall experience has not changed: the Delaware and Maryland shore is inundated with drunk, horny teens whose cerebral cortexes are not yet fully formed, making them a danger to themselves and others.

So last fall, when Brody and Kinsey entered their senior year, Shelby asked me to mark off this week to spend at her family’s beach house. The twins would be renting houses with their friends, but we would hover in the wings just in case. Neither seen nor heard, we would be but a few minutes away if things got hairy. A girls’ getaway, Shelby called it, even though we both knew that we were really here because she would be climbing the walls with anxiety if she were back in D.C.

“You do need to get out there again!” Shelby shouts above the Toad the Wet Sprocket cover. “You’ve been divorced more than two years.”

“Separated more than two years,” I correct her. “Divorced one year, as of last month.”

Shelby waves the distinction away. “Whatever. Who have you slept with, besides that guy from the gym? Who was that guy? Oh yeah, Deltoid Doug.”

“Please don’t remind me about Deltoid Doug.” I hadn’t realized that you could take the guy out of the gym, but you couldn’t get him to stop talking about CrossFit versus Orange Theory.

“Look around—there’s got to be some decent guys here.” She sweeps her hand around the packed room. But I’m not checking out guys. I’m pulling out my phone to check on Zoe. Shelby puts her hand over mine.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Zoe’s at home watching Dance Moms.” She gives me a challenging look. “Daniel’s got this. I dare you not to check up on her.”

“It’s just this constant buzzing in the back of my brain—what is Zoe up to? Is Zoe safe? Is she where she said she was going to be?” I sigh. “I’m surprised I’ve been able to turn it off for as long as I have today.”

“I’m the same,” Shelby says. “If you weren’t here distracting me, I’d go nuts.”

“And it hasn’t been good lately.” Even Shelby doesn’t know how bad it’s been with Zoe recently. When Daniel moved out, I thought we might get closer, just the two of us in the house together. But the opposite happened. She’s pulled away. Lately, she absolutely vibrates with anger.

“Anything in particular?”

I laugh. “Let’s see. According to Zoe, I embarrass her. I smother her. I annoy her. I don’t get her. Should I go on?”

“Honey, these teenage girls are witches. I tell you. Thank god I have my Brody. Even though the twins are exactly three minutes apart, they’re so different developmentally. Kinsey can’t wait to get away from me. Meanwhile, Brody is all, Mama, can I fill up your gas tank before you head out with Liza? And the tires need air, so I’ll get that, too.”

“So sweet.”

“Thank god I did not have two girls.” “Well, I don’t have a son. It’s just Zoe and me. And Daniel. And he gets to be the fun one, who let Zoe get a nose piercing and took her to see Phoebe Bridgers the night before midterms.” I pull my hand, and my phone, out from under Shelby’s palm. “The type that would let his sixteen-year-old daughter roam the streets of D.C. after curfew.”

“Don’t check, Liza. Let Daniel be the parent. You’re off this weekend.”

“You’re never really off, though, are you?” I know she just wants to protect me, but I also know she’s the same way about her kids. We both know what can happen to teenagers when parents aren’t paying attention.

Just look at what happened to Nikki.

“You’re such a Capricorn.” Shelby sighs and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Just one quick peek. And then put it away.”

I go to the Find My app and look for Zoe’s phone. We all do it. Every parent that I know. We lament our kids not having the freedoms we did when we were their age, and then we track their every move.

It takes only a millisecond to register that Zoe’s avatar isn’t there.


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Q&A with Aggie Blum Thompson

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Want to know more about debut author Aggie Blum Thompson and her new book I Don’t Forgive YouKeep reading to see her answers to all of our burning questions!


What kind of research did you do for this book? Did you learn anything surprising?

I did quite a bit of research on social media and the dark underworld of fake accounts, hacking, and revenge porn – and it’s not pretty. It’s really the wild, wild West with no sheriff in sight. As I mention in my book, the number of fake Facebook accounts alone is startling. I put the number at 18 million in my book but it looks like I way underestimated. According to the New York Times, Facebook put the number of fake accounts it shut down for just one quarter of 2018 at 91 million. And as anyone who has been the victim of a fake account or revenge porn knows, scrubbing that information off the internet is extremely difficult, if not impossible. The laws on the books have simply not caught up to the technology.

What was the book that made you want to become a writer?

I was an avid reader as a child. I loved our weekly trips to the library, where I was allowed to check out as many books as I could carry. My parents were very strict about TV and movies, but they put no limits on books. I wrote short stories and plays and poems from a very young age. One summer at camp, I had a wonderful counselor whom I had a massive crush on. She was just the coolest person ever. This was in the early eighties, and I would hang out in her bunk room and I started borrowing her books. She was gay, and she had a terrific collection of gay literature. She leant me Rubyfruit Jungle; I think I was eleven. But it was through her that I discovered Armistead Maupin and Tales of the City series, and I became obsessed with the whole series. I read and re-read every single one, and immediately set out to try and recreate that kind of comic, socially conscious, intertwined novel – only set in middle school on Long Island. My first draft was a big hit at school, until it was confiscated by Mr. Nagrowski in science class.

What are the characteristics of a great book to you?

It’s funny; I read across genres, and love non-fiction as much as fiction. All I ask is to be swept away – so caught up in the world of the book that it lingers in my mind even when I am away from it, like a spell. This can be the wry comedy of John Fante’s Ask the Dust, the deep emotional resonance of Gloria Naylor’s The Women of Brewster Place or the sweeping descriptions that made me feel like I was experiencing the Dust Bowl first hand in the nonfiction The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan. And thrillers and mysteries have the extra-bonus of giving my active brain a puzzle to gnaw on while I am being transported.

When writing a book, do you plan it out first or do you go with the flow?

A bit of both. Writers often describe themselves as “plotters” or “pantsers” – meaning they write by the seat of their pants. I consider myself a “plonster” in that I do need to have a sense of where the book will end up before I start writing, but I have no idea how I will get there. I liken it to driving cross-country, which I have done five times. You know you’re leaving New York, and that you’ll wind up in California – but other than that, you kind of let the road take you where it wants. Maybe you’ll get off the main highway to go see the world’s largest ball of twine (located in Cawker City, Kansas if you are curious) and maybe you’ll spend longer in Arches National Park than you had planned. But eventually you end up in the Golden State.

How do you like to spend your time when you’re not writing?

Either with friends — playing cards (Pitch or Euchre), listening to music, and sipping a gin and tonic – or in my garden. I am a passionate gardener and I have transformed the tiny little lawn in front of my suburban house into a fruit orchard and veggie plot. I grow figs, raspberries, blueberries, tomatoes, fennel, greens, squash, pumpkins – you name it! It’s my happy place where I get so absorbed in what I am doing that all my cares melt away. 

Order a copy of I Don’t Forgive You—available now!

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Start a Discussion With the I Don’t Forgive You Reading Group Guide!

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Perfect for book clubs or the beach, Aggie Blum Thompson’s I Don’t Forgive You is a page-turning, thrilling debut “not to be missed.” (Wendy Walker)

An accomplished photographer and the devoted mom of an adorable little boy, Allie Ross has just moved to an upscale DC suburb, the kind of place where parenting feels like a competitive sport. Allie’s desperate to make a good first impression. Then she’s framed for murder.

It all starts at a neighborhood party when a local dad corners Allie and calls her by an old, forgotten nickname from her dark past. The next day, he is found dead.

Soon, the police are knocking at her door, grilling her about a supposed Tinder relationship with the man, and pulling up texts between them. She learns quickly that she’s been hacked and someone is impersonating her online. Her reputation—socially and professionally—is at stake; even her husband starts to doubt her. As the killer closes in, Allie must reach back into a past she vowed to forget in order to learn the shocking truth of who is destroying her life.

Get your book club discussion started with our reading group guide below!

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Order a Copy of I Don’t Forgive You — Available Now!

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Forge Your Own Book Club: I Don’t Forgive You by Aggie Blum Thompson

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By Lizzy Hosty

After moving to the suburbs of Washington D.C. with her husband and son, Allie Ross is soon framed for murder. When the police discover a Tinder relationship between her and the dead man, Allie realizes that someone has been impersonating her online. But when the cops and even her own husband starts to doubt her, Allie realizes that it’s up to her to discover the truth. With twists and turns and plot twists sure to keep any reader on their toes, I Don’t Forgive You by Aggie Blum Thompson is the perfect read for your book club.


What to Drink:

Allie and her neighbors are rarely seen without a glass of wine in hand – so it’s the perfect time to bust out that bottle you’ve been saving for a rainy day. Fre Wines also has a great selection of non-alcoholic wines such as this delicious Rosé.

What to Eat:

A domestic thriller like this offers the perfect opportunity to show off your best cocktail party hors d’oeuvres! For a scrumptious brunch option, try this recipe for mini-quiches.

What to Watch:

The 2018 thriller movie Searching tells the story of a father who, through the use of technology, sets out to find his missing daughter. Along the way, he realizes that the daughter that he knew was nothing more than a mirage as he slowly starts to uncover just who she is now.

What to Discuss:

Download the I Don’t Forgive You Reading Group Guide for insightful questions to get the discussion going.

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What to Read Next: 

For another twisty thriller about someone pretending to be someone they’re not, check out Hank Phillipi Ryan’s The First to Lie. After a devastating betrayal, a young woman sets out to get justice through lies and manipulation, no matter what family secrets are unearthed. But she soon realizes she’s not the only one after revenge. Once your book club is finished with I Don’t Forgive You, add The First to Lie to your reading list!

Order Your Copy of I Don’t Forgive You—Available Now!

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On the (Digital) Road: Tor Author Events in June 2021

We are in a time of social distancing, but your favorite Tor authors are still coming to screens near you in the month of June! Check out where you can find them here:

Christopher Buehlman, The Blacktongue Thief

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Tuesday, June 1
Vroman’s Books
Crowdcast
6:00 PM PT

Saturday, June 5
Interabang Books
Zoom
6:00 PM CT

Monday, June 7
Boswell Books
Zoom
7:00 PM CT

T. L. Huchu, The Library of the Dead

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Tuesday, June 15
Let’s Talk Genre: SFF Panel w/Jessica Levai at Bookmarks
Crowdcast
7:00 PM ET

Tor Books, June Read the Room Event

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Wednesday, June 23
Django Wexler, Bethany C Morrow, Neil Sharpson, Aggie Blum Thompson, and Ada Palmer in conversation at BookPeople
Crowdcast
6:00 PM ET

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Aggie Blum Thompson On Going from Covering Crime, to Making It Up

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Before Aggie Blum Thompson became an author, she was a real-life crime reporter, and also wrote for papers like The Boston Globe and The Washington Post.

Now she’s moved from covering crime to making it up in her debut novel I Don’t Forgive You, headed to a bookstore near you on June 8th! To get you ready for this page-turning domestic thriller, Aggie joined us on the blog to talk about her experience as a crime reporter!

 


By Aggie Blum Thompson

I had been on the job less than one week when I encountered my first murder victim. He was lying on the cement outside of a neighborhood market in the small Southern city of Wilmington, North Carolina, the victim of a drive-by shooting.

This was my first newspaper job.

I was hired as the local paper’s “cops” reporter, although I quickly learned not to use the word “cop” to reference a law enforcement officer. My beat was to cover the goings-on at both the city’s police department and at the county sheriff, handling everything from budget issues to crime, including, yes, murder. I knew about the murder part in theory, but as I parked my car in a dark and unfamiliar area of Wilmington, I was jittery. Would I know what to do? Would the police respond to me, or completely ignore me? What about the crowd that had gathered, at least ten people deep, agitated and restless – would they resent a reporter in their midst?

And most of all – would I make the newspaper’s deadline of eleven o’clock, seeing as it was after ten-forty when I arrived?

I parked behind a line of squad cars, pretty far away from the crime scene.  Pushing my way through the crowd was like bushwhacking through the woods and then coming upon a clearing. Only this clearing was dirty cement, where a man lay. Around him, yellow plastic markers indicated where bullets had been found. The photographer was just finishing up, and the medics were ready to take the body to the morgue. I managed to get the attention of a mustachioed, middle-aged man who looked like he was in charge. I introduced myself, and he informed me he would be all mine once they were done, happy to answer any and all questions. He called me ma’am.

Feeling relieved, I sank back into the crowd to wait. Little did I know he was ma’aming me — a specifically Southern skill that law enforcement use to their advantage. While appearing polite and respectful, they completely blowing you off.

I called in the basics of the crime — what, when, where, how — to the copy desk, but I did not have a who or why. I wanted a name, or an occupation, or at least an age. Something to make this person lying crumpled on the concrete a human. Without it, he would be known in tomorrow’s paper as “Murder Victim.”

The medics took the body away. I motioned to the police detective and he smiled, but did not approach. The crowd began to dissipate once the body was gone. Soon it was me, a few stragglers, and various law enforcement technicians. I interviewed a few bystanders to keep busy. Someone in a uniform took down the yellow police tape that had cordoned off the scene of the murder. Someone else came and collected those little yellow plastic bullet markers. The copy desk called, impatient now. It was after eleven. They needed that humanizing detail now.

I searched the scene for my detective but could not see him. I approached a uniformed officer and asked where he might be. He shrugged. “He left a while ago.”

And then I was all alone, the crowd gone, the police gone, the body gone.

It was pitch black. My car was blocks away, but without the emergency vehicles, I couldn’t remember which street I had parked on. I fumbled around in the dark until, heart racing, I finally located my car. It wasn’t until the next day that I found out that man’s name. But my editor said it was too late to put it in the paper—it was yesterday’s news.

Years later, I’ve traded in newspaper reporting for novel writing. I’m still writing about murder, but I no longer depend on anyone else to tell me the who, what, when, where or why. I am limited now only by my imagination.

Pre-order a Copy of I Don’t Forgive You—available June 8th!

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6 Suburban Mystery & Thriller Novels

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By Lizzy Hosty

Aggie Blum Thompson’s debut novel I Don’t Forgive You is a page-turning domestic thriller set in her home town Washington D.C. In anticipation of this release about motherhood and fatal secrets on June 8th, here are 5 more mysteries and thrillers set in the suburbs!

 

 


Image Placeholder of - 10The Photographer by Mary Dixie Carter

As a photographer in New York City, Delta Dawn spends her days taking photos of the super wealthy and powerful. But the more time she spends observing this world, the more she wants to be in it. Suddenly, Delta isn’t just taking birthday party photos for the wealthy Straub family – she’s babysitting the daughter, befriending the mother, bathing in their tub, drinking their wine, and pushing the limits to what she can manipulate.

Place holder  of - 67The Sinful Lives of Trophy Wives by Kristin Miller

Brooke Davies has just moved to San Francisco with her new tech-billionaire husband, who is twenty-two years her senior and doesn’t want her to get too close to the other trophy wives of the town. Brooke wants to play the part of the perfect, doting housewife, but the more time she spends with Erin King – chair of the community board, famous news anchor and wife to a man who is threatened by her ambitions – and Georgia St. Claire – nicknamed the “Black Widow” after two of her husbands died in mysterious ways that benefited her financially – the less Brooke wants to keep playing that part. After Georgia’s newest husband dies, folks start to wonder if she’s killed yet another husband.

Poster Placeholder of - 8The Dinner Guest by B.P. Walter

The Dinner Guest is a domestic thriller set against the affluence of West London, where four people walked into a dinner party, but one never left. Matthew was the perfect husband, Titus was the perfect son, Charlie was the perfect illusion, and Rachel was the perfect stranger and the newest member of their book club. Charlie didn’t want Rachel to come in the first place, but Matthew didn’t care. Suddenly, Matthew is dead with Charlie crying and Rachel calling 999 while holding the bloody knife.

Image Place holder  of - 45The Therapist by B.A. Paris

Moving in with her husband into an elite, gated community named “The Circle” should be Alice’s dream. But she quickly finds out that the person, a therapist, who lived in the house before died under mysterious circumstances – and no one in the community wants to talk about it. The longer she lives there, though, the stronger her connection to the therapist grows, until she becomes obsessed with figuring out what happened here two years prior.

When No One Is Watching by Alyssa Cole

Sydney Green was born and raised in the Brooklyn neighborhood that has lately seen more and more of her friends and neighbors disappearing and affluent white families moving in. As real estate agents start to get more and more aggressive in their attempts to buy her mother’s house, Sydney starts to wonder if people aren’t being persuaded out of their homes with promises of lucrative offers, but rather the reasoning is much more sinister.

I Don’t Forgive You by Aggie Blum Thompson

After moving to Washington D.C. with her husband and son, Allie Ross is suddenly framed for the murder of someone she just met. The police quickly find a conversation over Tinder between him and Allie, but she has no memory of doing so.The police and her husband aren’t buying it. The only person who can find out the truth is herself, even if it means digging into the secrets of her past.

Pre-order a Copy of I Don’t Forgive You—available June 8th!

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