Showing results by narrator "Katie Beudert" in All Categories

Nobody has a “normal” family; but Vesper Wright's is truly... something else. Vesper left home at eighteen and never looked back—mostly because she was told that leaving the staunchly religious community she grew up in meant she couldn't return. But then an envelope arrives on her doorstep.

How do you solve your own murder before it happens? That’s the question that haunts three women. Convinced that a mysterious urban myth called the rule of three is real, they must find a way to break the curse or be doomed to die like those who came before them. But when you’re not sure if what you think is happening is even the truth, how do you know if you are actually in danger? And if you don’t know, how will you be able to protect yourself? Amy. Ila. Zoe. Death comes in threes.

In this inspiring and deeply moving story of love, courage and endurance, a young woman on the run from the law sets off on a desperate journey of survival on the treacherous Oregon Trail. Terrified she’s wanted for the murder of her landlord, Grace is certain that, even though she acted in self-defense, no one will believe her. Quickly packing the few belongings she and her little brother Tom possess, they race to join the line of dusty wagons preparing to leave for Oregon.

All Zoey’s happiest childhood memories are of her great-aunt Ivy’s rickety cottage on Dune Island, being spoiled with cranberry ice cream, and watching the tides change from the rooftop. Now, heartbroken from a recent breakup, Zoey can see her elderly aunt’s spark is fading and decides to move to the island, so they can care for each other. When she arrives to find her cousin, Mark, sitting at the solid oak kitchen table, she knows why Aunt Ivy hasn’t been herself. Because Mark - next in line to inherit the house - is pushing Ivy to move into a nursing home.

Today, all my worst fears came true. I thought I had escaped the dark secrets of my teenage years. But when my son is accused by one of my students of a crime I know only too well, my past comes hurtling into my present. But what can I do? I love my son. I need to believe him no matter what.

Dubbed the 'snowflake generation', these hypersensitive cowards are up in arms about silly things like bathrooms smeared with faeces in the shape of Swastikas, climate change and statues of colonisers being kept in their natural habitats of universities and town squares. They make obstinate requests like wondering if a vegan option might be available, or if you could (please) use their correct pronouns.