Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
What if you looked exactly like a famous movie star, and one day decided, that along with their beautiful face, you wanted the life that came with it?
This eBook also contains a bonus interview with Blake, plus excerpts from his other four novels.
About the Author:
BLAKE CROUCH was born near the piedmont town of Statesville, North Carolina in 1978. He attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and graduated in 2000 with degrees in English and Creative Writing. Blake is the author of four novels and numerous short stories. He lives with his family in southwest Colorado, where he is at work on a new book.
Praise for Blake Crouch’s ABANDON:
ABANDON would make an excellent movie, switching back and forth between the plain-but-sturdy homes, saloon and church in 1893 and the same structures rotting to dust in 2009...a clever dual story.
ABANDON [is] two separate works of past and present seamlessly melded together into a single novel that demands to be read in one sitting, so you can better appreciate the beauty of Crouch’s storytelling…[O]ne of those books that almost instantly puts you in the mind of a classic.
Haunting, fast-paced, and thoroughly engrossing... ABANDON is one of the most original tales of ghosts, greed and gold I've come across. Crouch aligns both eras so perfectly, it's as if the characters are occupying the same breath within the space/time continuum. ABANDON will be one of the most talked-about books of the summer.
THE MADISON COUNTY HERALD
Ambitious…the palpable suspense just keeps building, and many thriller fans—especially those who like a touch of horror—will lose sleep to find out how it all ends.
ABANDON is terrific…a great storyteller hitting his stride.
or his character I mean, drops out of school to help her. I won’t say how it ends in case you haven’t seen it, but it’s genius. The actress who played his mother won an Oscar, too. And the movie got best picture. I’ve watched the tape of that Academy Awards at least once a week for the last five years. Sometimes, I even dress up and order in Chinese. Anyway, he stepped onstage and gave the most gracious acceptance speech you’ve ever seen. Didn’t even use a cheat sheet. And he was twenty-nine.
to wherever we’re going.” Interstate 5 climbs above four thousand feet and the air turns cooler. At Tejon Pass, we pull onto the shoulder and have our picture taken by an elderly couple on a Sunday drive up from Santa Barbara. I introduce myself as Lance. They are sweet old folks. The kind that make the prospect of old age not quite so horrifying. When we’re back in the Hummer and driving along the winding, secondary road, I tell Kara how seeing an old couple like that makes me look forward
isn’t it? And you look beautiful, too,” Marcy tells Kara. I squeeze Kara’s hand, and she smiles gracefully. “Thank you.” I can see in Marcy’s eyes that she wants to ask Kara something, but she backs off. “So, Jim, when are we going to be standing at your premier? Not too much longer I hope.” Right, like I’m going to tell you first. You have to be very careful how you answer that sort of question, because if you say the wrong thing, or even the right thing with less than perfect ambiguity,
cooler. Rex is a wonderful driver. While we watched the movie, he went out and purchased champagne at my request. It’s 8:30, and if I squint and measure with my thumb and index finger, the sun is roughly an inch above the horizon of calm blue ocean. Kara and I walk onto the Santa Monica Pier. We stroll all the way to the end and only pass three people—a starry-eyed couple, and an old man, fishing. We have the end of the pier all to ourselves, and we sit down on a bench and watch the sun sink
coming?” he asks. “It’s coming.” “Yeah? You going to star?” “Who else? You?” “Hey, come next March, I might be the hottest ticket in town.” “I sincerely hope so.” Rich finishes off his Perrier. “You want one of these? I’m going to go for another.” “No thanks.” Rich adjusts his bowtie and sort of just takes me in. “I don’t know what it is, Jim, but you seem different somehow.” My stomach comes up my throat. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the girl, but you seem more