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Tragedy Boy . . . Meet Tragedy Girl Of course Anne would be drawn to Blake. Hes good-looking, hes friendly, and they both bring sob stories to the table: her parents died in a car wreck; his girlfriend, Cara, drowned. Of course Blake would understand what shes going through. And of course they can help each other work through the pain. Its like it was meant to be. But just as Anne starts to feel like shes finally found something good in all the tragedy, there are signs she cant ignore that somethings off. Her friends rarely let her be alone with Blake. Even those closest to Blake seem uneasy around him. And then there are the rumors about the death of Cara, whose body was never recovered. Rumors that suggest Blakes pain is hiding something darker than Anne can even begin to comprehend . . . Praise: ""A deftly plotted psychological mystery."" Kirkus Reviews ""Adeptly building anticipation in her psychological mystery, Deriso keeps readers guessing while eloquently describing grief and the effort it takes to move through it.""Publishers Weekly ""Should appeal to fans of both April Henry's thrillers and Sarah Dessen's realistic romances.""Booklist ""A quick and suspenseful read.""VOYA ""Gripping.""School Library Journal



About the Author

Christine Hurley Deriso

"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."--William WordsworthOne thing that strikes me about my writing is that the process has changed very little since I first started jotting down stories around age six. An idea fills my head and whines, cajoles, begs or bullies until I pay attention. Sometimes the ideas are so charming that I scoop them up in a hug. Other times, they're so annoying that I snap, "What? " at their insistence. But either way, I can no more walk away from one than I could walk away from a child in need.The ideas originate in my head, but they seem to have a mind, an essence, an existence of their own. I feel more like a vessel than an owner. Succumbing to these ideas' insistence to flow through me is profoundly joyful, yet also utterly involuntary. And that hasn't changed since I was six.What has changed, I hope, is my wisdom, my insight, my courage ... my head's ability to make enough sense of these ideas to shape them into something meaningful, even the ones that scare me. Especially the ones that scare me.I'm guessing you'll glean from my books that I love all words, any words, Whether I'm writing for a young child, a tween, a young adult or a Ph.D., I try hard to move my reader ... to make his world a little bigger or his heart a little fuller. Hopefully both.So there you have it: I love words and I love ideas, and if I didn't love them, they'd badger me anyhow. Thanks for sharing the experience with me.www.chderiso.com



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