We are so excited to be a part of a 2-part tour for the release of best selling author Mary Kubica’s new psychological thriller, When the Lights Go Out!
Follow along the excerpt tour beginning in August, with long excerpts in consecutive order at each tour stop, followed by an Instagram tour and review tour beginning in September!
Hardcover: 336 pages
Publisher: Park Row; Original edition (September 4, 2018)
A woman is forced to question her own identity in this riveting and emotionally charged thriller by the blockbuster bestselling author of The Good Girl, Mary Kubica
Jessie Sloane is on the path to rebuilding her life after years of caring for her ailing mother. She rents a new apartment and applies for college. But when the college informs her that her social security number has raised a red flag, Jessie discovers a shocking detail that causes her to doubt everything she’s ever known.
Finding herself suddenly at the center of a bizarre mystery, Jessie tumbles down a rabbit hole, which is only exacerbated by grief and a relentless lack of sleep. As days pass and the insomnia worsens, it plays with Jessie’s mind. Her judgment is blurred, her thoughts are hampered by fatigue. Jessie begins to see things until she can no longer tell the difference between what’s real and what she’s only imagined.
Meanwhile, twenty years earlier and two hundred and fifty miles away, another woman’s split-second decision may hold the key to Jessie’s secret past. Has Jessie’s whole life been a lie or have her delusions gotten the best of her?
“Kubica brilliantly unravels the lives of two women in this tense and haunting tale of identity and deceit. WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT will keep you questioning everything-and everyone-until the riveting conclusion. A twisty, captivating, edge-of-your-seat read.” –Megan Miranda, New York Times bestselling author of ALL THE MISSING GIRLS
Purchase Links
Excerpt:
I keep track of the sleepless nights in the notched lines beneath my eyes, like the annual rings of a tree. One wrinkle for each night that I don’t sleep. I stare at myself in the mirror each day, counting them all. This morning there were four. The surface effects of insomnia are even worse than what’s going on on the inside. My eyes are red and swollen. My eyelids droop. Overnight, wrinkles appear by the masses, while I lay in bed counting sheep. I could go to the clinic and request something else to help me sleep. Some more of the clonazepam. But with the pills in my system, I slept right on through Mom’s death. I don’t want to think about what else I’d miss.
At McDonalds, I’m asked if I want ketchup with my fries, but I can only stare at the worker dumbly because what I heard was, It’s messed up when boats capsize, and I nod lamely because it is disastrous and sad, and yet so out of left field I can’t respond with words.
It’s only when he drops a stack of ketchup packets on my tray that my brain makes the translation, too late it seems because I hate ketchup. I dump them on the table when I go, the mother lode for someone who likes it. On the way out the door I trip, because coordination is also effected by a lack of sleep.
Two hours ago I dragged my heavy body from bed after another sleepless night, and now I stand in the center of Mom and my house, deciding which of our belongings to take and which to leave. I can’t stand to stay here much longer, a decision I’ve come to quickly over the last four days. I’ve spoken to a realtor already, figured out next steps. First I’m to pack up what I want to keep, and then everything else will be sold in an estate sale before some junk removal service tosses the rest of our stuff in the trash.
Then some other family will move into the only home I’ve ever known.
I’m eyeing the sofa, wondering if I should take it or leave it, when the phone rings. “Hello?” I ask.
A voice on the other end informs me that she’s calling from the financial aid office at the college. “There’s a problem with your application,” she says to me.
“What problem?” I ask the woman on the phone, afraid I’m about to be cited for tax evasion. It’s a likely possibility; I’d left blank every question on the FAFSA form than asked about adjusted gross income and tax returns. I might have lied on the application too. There was a question that asked if both of my parents were deceased. I said yes to that, though I don’t know if it’s true.
Is my father dead?
On the other end of the line, the woman asks me to verify my social security number for her and I do. “That’s what I have,” she says, and I ask, “Then what’s the problem? Has my application been denied?” My heart sinks. How can that be? It’s only a community college. It’s not like I registered for Yale or Harvard.
“I’m sure it’s just a weird mix-up with vital statistics,” she says.
“What mix-up?” I ask, feeling relieved for a mix-up as opposed to a denied application. A mix-up can be fixed.
“It’s the strangest thing,” she says. “There was a death certificate on file for a Jessica Sloane, from seventeen years ago. With your birthdate and your social security number. By the looks of this, Ms. Sloane,” she says, and I amend Jessie, because Ms. Sloane is Mom. “By the looks of this, Jessie,” she says, and the words that follow punch me so hard in the gut they make it almost impossible to breathe. “By the looks of this, you’re already dead.”
And then she laughs as if somehow or other this is funny.
*
Today I’m looking for a new place to live. Staying in our old home is no longer a viable option because of the residual ghosts of Mom that remain in every corner of the home. The smell of her Crabtree & Evelyn hand cream that fills the bathroom. The feel of the velvet lined compartments in the mahogany dresser. The chemo caps. The cartons of Ensure on the refrigerator shelf.
I perch in the back seat of a Kia Soul, trying hard not to think too much about the call from the financial aid office. This is easier said than done. Just thinking about it makes my stomach hurt. A mix-up, the woman claimed, but still, it’s hard to grapple with the words you and dead in the same sentence. Though I try to, I can’t push them from my mind. The way she and I left things, I’m to provide a copy of my social security card to the college before they’ll take another look at my application for a loan, which is a problem because I don’t have the first clue where the card is. But it’s more than that too. Because the woman also told me about some death index my name was found on. A death index. My name on a database maintained by the Social Security Administration of millions of people who have died, nullifying their social security numbers so that no one else can use them, so that I can’t use my own social security number. Because, according to the Social Security Administration, I’m dead.
About Mary Kubica
Mary Kubica is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of THE GOOD GIRL and PRETTY BABY. She holds a Bachelor of Arts degree from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, in History and American Literature. She lives outside of Chicago with her husband and two children and enjoys photography, gardening and caring for the animals at a local shelter.
.
.
Connect with Mary
Excerpt Tour:
Monday, August 20th: Palmer’s Page Turners
Tuesday, August 21st: Books and Cats and Coffee
Wednesday, August 22nd: Mystery Suspense Reviews
Thursday, August 23rd: Book Reviews and More by Kathy
Friday, August 24th: A Bookworm’s World
Monday, August 27th: Novel Gossip
Tuesday, August 28th: Books & Spoons
Wednesday, August 29th: Read Love Blog
Thursday, August 30th: That’s What She Read
Friday, August 31st: From the TBR Pile
Instagram Tour:
Monday, September 3rd: @brookesbooksandbrews
Tuesday, September 4th: @chapter_break
Tuesday, September 4th: @girlandherbooks
Wednesday, September 5th: @kate.olson.reads
Thursday, September 6th: @jennblogsbooks
Friday, September 7th: @bookishconnoisseur
Saturday, September 8th: @pnwbookworm
Sunday, September 8th: @girlsinbooks
Review Tour:
Tuesday, September 4th: Literary Quicksand
Wednesday, September 5th: Diary of a Stay at Home Mom
Thursday, September 6th: Books & Bindings
Thursday, September 6th: Book Reviews and More by Kathy
Friday, September 7th: No More Grumpy Bookseller
Monday, September 10th: Booktimistic and @booktimistic
Monday, September 10th: The Book Diva’s Reads
Tuesday, September 11th: Thoughts on This ‘n That
Wednesday, September 12th: Books and Cats and Coffee
and @booksncatsncoffee
Thursday, September 13th: Thoughts from a Highly Caffeinated Mind
Friday, September 14th: Becky on Books
Friday, September 14th: From the TBR Pile
Monday, September 17th: Moonlight Rendezvous
Monday, September 17th: Staircase Wit
Tuesday, September 18th: @booknerdnative
Wednesday, September 19th: Palmer’s Page Turners
Thursday, September 20th: Mystery Suspense Reviews
Friday, September 21st: Girl Who Reads
Monday, September 24th: Novel Gossip and @novelgossip
Tuesday, September 25th: Bewitched Bookworms
Tuesday, September 25th: Why Girls are Weird
Wednesday, September 26th: @hollyslittlebookreviews
Thursday, September 27th: Mama Reads Blog
Thursday, September 27th: Jathan & Heather
Friday, September 28th: Kritter’s Ramblings
*Paul*
Aleatha Romig is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Indiana, USA. She grew up in Mishawaka, graduated from Indiana University, and is currently living south of Indianapolis. Aleatha has raised three children with her high school sweetheart and husband of over thirty years. Before she became a full-time author, she worked days as a dental hygienist and spent her nights writing. Now, when she’s not imagining mind-blowing twists and turns, she likes to spend her time a with her family and friends. Her other pastimes include reading and creating heroes/anti-heroes who haunt your dreams and bring your imagination to life!
The Left Side Of Perfect – Release Day – August 30
The Right Side Of Forever – Release Day August 31
Julie Kenner (aka J. Kenner and J.K. Beck) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of over forty novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
I’ve waited years for the perfect girl, yet she was right in front of me all along.
