A big welcome to the Blog Tour for How the Light Gets in by Katy Upperman, a book about loss, about love, about siblings.
For today’s post I got an excerpt, information on the book/author, and also be sure to enter the giveaway (sorry, only US).
Let’s get this tour on the road.
Buy the book here: Amazon
About the author:
Katy Upperman’s How the Light Gets In is a haunting YA novel about a teen coping with the loss of her sibling.
When she returns to her aunt’s run-down coastal Victorian one year after Chloe’s death, Callie resigns herself to a summer of guilt and home renovations. She doesn’t expect to be charmed by the tiny coastal town or by Tucker Morgan, a local boy brimming with sunshine.
But even as her days begin to brighten, Callie’s nights are crowded with chilling dreams, unanswered questions, and eerie phenomenon that have her convinced she’s being haunted. Will Callie be able to figure out what her sister is trying to communicate before it’s too late?
Find her here:
Katy Upperman is a wife, mama, author, reader, baker, and wanderer. She writes novels for teens and teens at heart. She’s a Washington State University alum (go Cougs!), a country music fanatic, and a makeup stockpiler. She loves the ocean, pedicures, sunshine, Instagram, Dirty Dancing and The Princess Bride, Jelly Bellies, true crime documentaries, and Friday Night Lights.
Aunt Lucy’s obviously left the outside of the house to wither over the last year, devoting her efforts to its interior. Last summer, the only rooms that were livable were her master suite and the first-floor bedroom Chloe and I shared. The foyer had been a mess, the kitchen gutted, with only a dented fridge and a hot plate, and the parlor was a particleboard shell. The rooms upstairs, which are supposed to house eventual B&B guests, had been a combined dumping ground.
Now, the walls of the foyer are paneled in whitewashed wood, and the floor is covered in glossy planks. There’s a rocking chair in the corner, draped with a patchwork quilt of faded reds, whites, and blues.
“I’ve done a lot downstairs,” Lucy tells us. “But the second floor still needs some serious attention. Callie, that’s where I’ll need you.”
It hurts physically, standing in this house without my sister, like a piece of my soul being slowly excised. Last year she shoved me out of the way before dashing toward our room at the back of the house, whooping, ready to snag the best bed and lay claim to the majority of the ward- robe’s hanging space.
Now I’ll get whichever bed I want. I’ll use every hanger in the wardrobe. I’ll get to spend the summer an only child, exactly as I’ve never wanted.
Light-headed and miserable, I touch the quilt, its fabrics frayed, its seams unraveling.
I remind myself to breathe.
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