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11 September 2017

Blog Tour: The Secrets You Keep by Kate White

What would you do if you realized that your new husband, a man you adore, is keeping secrets from you--secrets with terrifying consequences?

Bryn Harper, an accomplished self-help author, already has plenty to deal with. She's still recovering from a devastating car accident that has left her haunted by recurring, smoke-filled nightmares. Worse still, she can't shake the ominous feeling her dreams contain a warning.

In the beginning, Bryn's husband, Guy, couldn't have been more supportive. But soon after moving in together, Guy grows evasive, secretive. What the hell is going on? she wonders. Then, a woman hired to cater their dinner party is brutally murdered.

As Bryn's world unravels--and yet another woman in town is slain--she must summon her old strength to find answers and protect her own life. Her nightmares may in fact hold the key to unlocking the truth and unmasking the murderer.


A moment later I’m surfacing, struggling through webs of sleep. It’s only a dream, I realize. Another one of those nightmares. Though I’m fully awake now, my heart’s still thrumming. My skin is hot, like I’ve sat too long in the sun, and the T-shirt I’m wearing is damp with sweat. 
I glance around, not sure at first where I am. It’s daylight, maybe late afternoon, and then I know. I’m on the screened porch in the house we’ve rented in Saratoga Springs, New York. From outside I hear the distant, buzzy drone of a lawn mower and one short bark from a dog. 
I hoist myself up and take long deep breaths, in through my nostrils and out through my mouth, a technique Dr. G taught me when I started having sessions with her. 
Finally my pulse slows. I reach for a pencil and pad lying on the coffee table, and jot down fragments from the dream: hotel room, smoke, dissolving doorknob, the wall of flames. It’s the fourth dream like this I’ve had in the past few weeks. Dr. G suggested I keep track of them because they seem to be about the car accident, the one I was in three months ago. She thinks writing them down will help calm me—and if I’m lucky, ultimately fill in some blanks. 
I close my eyes again, trying to recall more details, but the dream begins to unravel in my memory, like a pile of dried leaves lifting apart in the wind. If it was trying to tell me something, I have no clue what it is. 
I force myself off the daybed and traipse into the main part of the house. It’s Victorian in style, built a hundred-plus years ago. Though there aren’t a ton of rooms, they’re spacious and elegant, with high ceilings and dark, intricate moldings and paneling. Not the kind of house I would have picked for myself—it’s so prim and proper—but I’m okay with being here for the summer. 
I wander back to the kitchen, with its white subway tiles gleaming in the June sun, and pour a glass of iced tea. I drain it in four gulps. Though the tea quenches my thirst, it does nothing to quell my unease. I glance at my watch. Four thirty. Guy will be home by six, and I’m already looking forward to seeing him. Maybe we should eat on the patio, since it’s bound to be a beautiful night. 
I will myself up from the chair and clear the soup bowl and utensils I used for lunch. Next I take two chicken cutlets out of the freezer and begin snipping the green beans I bought earlier. 
Finished, I head upstairs and straighten the duvet in the master bedroom. For the first time I’m struck by the sheer ridiculousness—and irony, too—of me snapping the fabric into place. Until now my life has been, at least literally speaking, a litany of unmade beds, beds I’ve always been far too busy to fuss with and happy to just stumble into at the end of crazy days. I know why I’ve given myself this little task each day. It’s a way to avoid what I’m really supposed to be doing. 
Coming to Saratoga for the summer and renting a nice house here was meant as a chance for me to get my mojo back now that my broken bones have mostly healed. I was also going to conceive and pound out a proposal for my new book, the one that had been delayed by the car accident and recovery. But it’s just not happening. I alternate between bouts of panic and feeling totally jet-lagged, like a traveler who’s stumbled off an airplane after crossing a dozen time zones. 
And then there’s the writer’s block. I knew it might take a while to get back in a groove, but 
I’ve spent days now staring at a blank computer screen. It seems at times as if my brain’s been sucked dry by aliens. At my most panic-stricken I worry that I’ll never squeeze out another word, never again share what I’ve learned, never again command a room of appreciative readers. 
As I give the duvet a final shake, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Because, until recently, I needed to negotiate shampooing and blow-drying with a cast on my arm, I chopped my light brown hair fairly short. The cut is cute enough, I guess, but because of the weight loss, my overall appearance leans toward beleaguered. I look like I’m ready to board an orphan train. 
My cell phone rings, startling me from my thoughts. I tug it from the pocket of my sweater. I smile to myself when I see Guy’s name.


Win an ebook of The Secrets You Keep by Kate White! This will be available in mobi, epub or PDF format.


  1. This sounds right up my street! Love these kind of books :D will have to get it when I've finished the one I'm reading :) x


  2. Hi, thanks for sharing this review it had me gripped and I want to give this book a read now, Chloe.

  3. Wow! This sounds absolutely fantastic. Will definitely have to check it out! X

  4. This sounds like a book I'd love, thrillers are my favourite and have me hooked so fast!
    Tara xo


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