A la una de la madrugada, Victoria Powell recibe una angustiosa llamada de su amiga Kayla.Envuelta en los brazos de un nuevo amante, Victoria abandona a regañadientes su cama y se dirige a Central Park para encontrarse con Kayla... pero ésta no aparece por ninguna parte. Un mes antes, un archivo con pruebas incriminatorias desaparece en un importante fondo de cobertura.Victoria teme el peligro y escapa a Martha's Vineyard. Llega durante una peligrosa tormenta de nordeste, se esconde y se sumerge en los diarios de su difunta madre... sin ser consciente del peligro que la ha perseguido hasta la isla. For as long as I can remember, I've had a book in my hand. At the age of seven, I'd often read to my mother at night around the fireplace. A fond memory I'll forever cherish. My origin is Monroeville, Alabama, but at nine-years-old, I moved to New York City-a stark contrast to my natal roots. The Deep South remains firmly ingrained in my soul as I craft worlds from my city dwelling. Often, I've evoked memories of a carefree girl who climbed trees, ran barefoot on Alabama red soil, lolled on green pastures, and traipsed along wooded paths picking blackberries. When I came to live in New York City with my aunt, an actress and educator, I traded tomboy ways for an artistic existence.I live and work on the Upper East Side of Manhattan where I share my life with family and good friends. But every so often, a familiar aura of sultry breezes, dusk, pitch-black, and haunting Alabama spirits, unseen in the cloak of night, whisper their stories, a place that calls to me when I write. Hopefully, one day I'll capture those experiences on paper.
