New Release | Secrets of Lakeluster House by Diane Scott Lewis with Jorja Parkinson #yalit #youngadult #teenlit #newrelease #bookboost
- N. N. Light
- Jun 2
- 5 min read
Title Secrets of Lakeluster House
Author Diane Scott Lewis with Jorja Parkinson
Genre Young Adult
Publisher BWL Publishing, inc.
Book Blurb
Sage, at fourteen, grows up in turmoil in Nahant, Massachusetts. Her changing body, her parents’ rocky marriage. When her cousin Patrick visits for the summer, his parents’ divorce has given him a reckless anger. He insists they explore the creepy mansion in the woods. Nate, Sage’s younger brother, is reluctant to approach the manor where a beloved teacher was found hanged months earlier. The children’s great-great grandmother worked at Lakeluster House in a previous century and was under suspicion of shooting another servant.
Now an old lady and her butler have moved in and the kids bring a welcome cake. Invited inside, Sage encounters a strange little girl who shows her the manor’s dark secrets—sparking Sage’s curiosity. Will the butler—a man with his own mysteries—throw them out for snooping? Who is real and who is a ghost? Was her relative guilty? And what danger lingers in the attic? Sage must gather her courage, risking her life to find out.
Excerpt
The woman in the long apron morphed out of the floating material. She turned her pleading eyes on Sage. “He no longer loved me,” she murmured. “We had plans.”
“Grandma Esther?” Sage thought she said the words aloud, or were they in her head? Had she really heard the woman speak?
The young man who resembled Huntley in a thinner version appeared beside the woman. “It was over, Essie,” he said with a British accent. ‘We had a bit of fun. Let’s remain friends.”
Sage’s stomach tightened into a fist. Why couldn’t she speak?
The man then stared right at Sage, his eyes black holes, which suddenly changed to ice blue. “Sage, you must go back.” His voice was so familiar. “You aren’t safe.”
He’d said her name! How was that possible? The woman nodded. “He’s right. Leave us, dear. Be a good girl.” Then she pulled something from her apron pocket. The pistol.
Sage shuddered and nausea rose in her throat.
Something touched her shoulder. She practically leapt into the air. The ghosts vanished. The cold dissipated.
“Are you all right?” Nate asked, his breath warm on her neck.
She could move now; she gripped her brother’s arm. “Did you see that? Hear it? What just happened?”
“See what?” He took the phone still clutched in her hand. He waved the light about. “I don’t see anything. Didn’t hear anything either.”
“I’m losing my mind, that’s all. We’re fine, we’re all fine.” She took back her phone. How had Jacob Huntley—because that’s who the man had to be—known her name? And warned her to leave, as did Grandma Esther. The woman must be Grandma Esther. A lady in despair over unreturned love. But to kill? “We must find Patrick.”
When Sage rounded the corner, she saw her cousin opening a door. A dim light filtered into the passage. A set of narrow stairs rose in front of them, similar to the ones she and Patrick had climbed when he broke into the house. But those had started on the second floor.
She stepped behind him, still jittery over the ghosts and their speaking to her. Was she special, with a connection to her family’s past? This was the third time she’d ‘seen’ Grandma Esther. Should she tell the boys? Was she unsafe?
“It’s like the Fun House at the amusement park.” Patrick started to mount the stairs.
“You need to take this seriously. Don’t be dense and careless.” Sage’s words came out rough, nearly angry.
Patrick turned and stared at her. Hurt flashed through his eyes, something she’d rarely seen during this visit. “I’m trying to distract myself, if it’s anything to you.”
Sage bristled at Patrick and his unfair situation. “Adults are going to do what they want. Just don’t get anyone arrested or injured.”
“Distract from what?” Nate asked, his hands on his hips. “No one tells me anything.”
“His father is getting remarried.” Sage said it calmly. “And we all have to deal with it. Right, Patrick?”
“Yeah, right. He’s no longer my dad.” Patrick frowned, then stomped up the stairs.
Sage knew she had to forgive her own dad for his fooling around. It would make things easier. Her shoulders sagged. At least he hadn’t deserted them.
A murky light came from a tiny window high on the wall. She switched off her flashlight and followed her cousin, Nate on her heels. The ghostly conversation wouldn’t leave her head. It seemed that her Grandma Esther had murdered her lover. Sage needed to boldly ask Huntley what he knew about the man who had to be his ancestor. No more being mysterious! She wished she were Christine’s age, then people would take her seriously.
At the top of the stairs, they entered a long, shadowed hallway, cool and musty. Was this a fourth floor? The house was like a maze, inside a creepy funhouse, which wasn’t much fun.
A window at the other end was stained glass. Faint colors filtered through it, leaving patterns on the floor. Patrick tried to open doors, but they were locked. Then he looked up.
He pointed. “A trapdoor. There’s the attic.”
“Why do you want to see the attic?” Nate asked. He sounded uneasy now. Sage wished he’d stayed home.
“Because that’s where the really scary things are.” Patrick glanced around. “We need a chair to reach it.”
“What if the scary things don’t show themselves to you?” She hadn’t meant to sound boastful. If she told them what she’d seen and heard, would they laugh, or believe her? She could hardly believe it herself. Yet they had all witnessed the shifting shadow on the front porch.
“It will be gucci to find out what’s up there.” He didn’t look amused, more like irritated. He jerked on another doorknob.
The ghost she thought of as Jacob had warned her to go back—she was in danger. And he knew her name. The extra scary part was, he’d sounded like Huntley, the current butler. She fought another tremble. Should she insist they leave?
A chill descended in the hall. It crept under her skin. The stained-glass patterns seemed to move, rearranging themselves to show colors on the wooden planks.
A door opened near her, and a child’s pale face looked out. Bella! She crooked her finger at Sage.
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Author Biography
Diane Parkinson (Diane Scott Lewis) grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, joined the Navy at nineteen and has written and edited freelance since high school, where she had a short story submitted to a literary festival. She wrote book reviews for the Historical Novels Review and worked as a historical editor for The Wild Rose Press. She’s had several historical novels published--her first novel won a reviewers' award. She enjoys graphic arts and camping with her unpredictable dachshund. Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania.
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