Cover Reveal: BLACK IRIS by Leah Raeder

Posted January 8, 2015 by Erin in Reveals / 0 Comments

Black Iris Cover Reveal: BLACK IRIS by Leah Raederby Leah Raeder
on April 28th 2015
Goodreads
Genres: Fiction, General, New Adult, Romance, Suspense, Thrillers
Pages: 384

The next dark and sexy romantic suspense novel from the USA TODAY bestselling author of Unteachable, which was praised for its “lush, haunting prose, deft storytelling, and scorching sensuality” (M. Pierce, bestselling author of the Night Owl trilogy), and called “one of the best forbidden romances” (Lauren Blakely, New York Times bestselling author).Laney Keating’s senior year of high school sucked. It began with one moment of weakness, one stupid gesture for a hopeless crush. Then the rumors started. Slut, they called her. Queer. Pillhead. Psycho. Mentally ill, messed up, so messed up even her own mom decided she wasn’t worth sticking around for. If Laney could erase that whole year, she would. College is her chance to start with a clean slate. She’s not looking for new friends, but they find her: charming, handsome Armin, the only guy patient enough to work through her thorny defenses—and fiery, filterless Blythe, the bad girl and partner in crime who becomes closer than a sister. But Laney knows nothing good ever lasts. When a ghost from her past resurfaces—the bully responsible for everything, the boy who broke her down completely—she decides maybe it’s time to live up to her own legend. And Armin and Blythe are going to help. Because that was the plan all along. Because the rumors are true. Every single one of them. And Laney is going to show them just how true. She’s going to show them all.

black iris

Yeah, I blew that cover up wanna know why…cause I mother effin love it and the author! We are super excited to get our hand on this beauty in April. Be sure to add BLACK IRIS to your Goodreads tbr 😉

FIRST CHAPTER EXCERPT:

BLACK IRIS by Leah Raeder

April is the cruelest month, T.S. Eliot said, and that’s because it kills. It’s the month with the highest suicide rate. You’d think December, or even January—the holidays and all that forced cheer and agonized smiling pushing fragile people to the edge—but actually it’s spring, when the world wakes from frostbound sleep and something cruel and final stirs inside those of us who are broken. Like Eliot said: mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. In the deepest throes of depression, when sunlight is anguish and the sky throbs like one big raw migraine and you just want to sleep until you or everything else dies, you’re less likely to commit suicide than someone coming out of a depressive episode. Drug companies know this. That’s why antidepressants have to be marked with the warning MAY CAUSE SUICIDAL THOUGHTS.

Because what brings you back to life also gives you the means to destroy yourself.

About Leah Raeder

I was born in the 80s, which means I have fantastic taste in music and atrocious taste in hair. I knew at eight years old that I wanted to be a published author when I grew up. Of course, when I was eight, “published author” was a glamorous daydream where I spent all day in bookstores, signing hardcovers and posing for photos with fans. In reality, authordom involves lots of bourbon-scented tears and neurotic self-doubt. At least there are fewer mullets.

As well as being a writer, I’m a voracious and omnivorous reader. Seriously. I read everything from contemporary Young Adult to dense, doorstop literary fiction. Some of my favorite writers are Vladimir Nabokov (Lolita), Virginia Woolf (Mrs. Dalloway), F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tender is the Night), and Jeanette Winterson (Written on the Body). I’m a total poetry geek, too—my two absolute favorites are Emily Dickinson and Sylvia Plath.

All the pretty colors on this website were made by me. In my non-bookish life, I’m a graphic designer.

I’m from Chicago and have lived all over the world, from NYC to LA to Tehran, Iran. I currently live in the Windy City with my partner, Alexander, who’s very understanding about all this girlsmut business.

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