Everything has a price, and the price of truth is steepest of all.
Eden has an ironclad five-year plan. In three months, she’s saying good riddance to Los Angeles and returning to the Pacific Northwest for medical school. Nothing is going to get in her way.
Nothing… but the impossible.
When she glimpses her doppelgänger at a party, the seemingly accidental meeting turns her life in a direction she never imagined, shredding everything she knows about herself and where she comes from.
The one constant in her collapsing world is Liam Rourke, a man whose dark desires are matched only by his tenderness. But Liam is more than a master in the bedroom—he’s a master of lies.
Uncovering the truth might cost Eden her life.
Some things are worth dying for.
There are moments in my life that, when I look back, are mile-high walls between my past and future. Once erected, there’s no longer any question of going back. There is before, and there is after. We all have them. You just have to look hard enough.
These walls cut us off forever from who we thought we were, forcing us to write new stories about our lives. To mold our thoughts in new ways. They alter how we feel in our skin. Change the shape of our smiles. Extend the depths to which we love, grieve, and regret.
The conversation on my parents’ couch before I left for college was one such wall. Another was erected when I met Liam Rourke.
And one more wall, the highest of all—Alexis.
The first time I saw her, I thought I was hallucinating. Karina loved LSD, and that night in the Hollywood Hills when I saw Alexis for the first time, I seriously thought my so-called friend had somehow dosed me with a hallucinogen.
But the truth crashed into me. Literally. Five-feet-eight-inches of truth, with eyes my dad calls cracked marbles. Blue and yellow and green with drips of brown.
Seeing my eyes in someone else’s face was weird enough. But then she grabbed my shoulder to steady herself and apologized distractedly for bumping into me. And I saw her lips—rose colored, the top thinner and bowed, the bottom slightly fuller. The tiny cleft in her chin. The shape of her nose, long and just slightly upturned. Her freckles, almost invisible beneath tanned skin and makeup.
She was me.
A bleached, tanned, glamorous me.
In that moment, a wall—miles upon miles upon miles high—shot up between my past and my future.
L.M. Halloran is an emotional delinquent and glutton for angst who gleefully takes her characters to hell and back. When she’s not reading or writing, the author enjoys walking barefoot, subjecting her husband to questionable recipes, and chasing her spirited toddler. She’s a rabid fan of coffee, moon-gazing, and small dogs that resemble Ewoks. Home is San Diego, CA, but her heart lives in Portland.