On her twentieth birthday, Lynnie Russell—just a little ol’ thing from down in Havana, Arkansas—falls in love under a full silver moon.
Waking up the next morning naked and caked in blood, Lynnie is faced with a horrifying truth. She’s death incarnate.
In a race to unearth what she’s become, Lynnie must hide her beastly thing from those she loves most. If only to keep them alive.
When an unexpected ally offers help, how can she refuse?
I chose to read this book after receiving a free e-copy. All opinions in this review are my own and completely unbiased.
And The Creek Don’t Rise started out as a budding romance between Lynnie and Rusty who knew each other all of their lives. On her 20th birthday, she just learned that he loved her, and she realized that she may love him as well…then BAM! Lynnie’s life changed forever.
I could feel her heartache and confusion as Lynnie struggled to deal with who or what she had become. I felt so bad for Lynnie until she eventually accepted her fate and became a badass warrior!
The characters are unique, and I enjoyed getting to know them. My favorite characters were Lynnie’s grandma and Mama Lee. They were both amazing “older” women.
R.M. Gilmore has a distinctive sense of humor which is clear even in this crazy fantasy. All of the books I’ve read by her are original, and And The Creek Don’t Rise isn’t any different. I’m looking forward to reading more!
★★★★★ “… a spellbinding story that is unique and original… …haunting, spine-tingling story that sparks the imagination and provokes nightmares.” – Reader’s Favorite
★★★★★ “And The Creek Don’t Rise is a bold mystical fantasy novel that demands to be read in one sitting.” -IndiesToday
★★★★★ “Two words… MORE PLEASE!” – L.C. Son, author of the Beautiful Nightmare series
★★★★★ “Intricately researched, finely crafted, dynamic and completely brilliant… will claw your heart out.” – Ravin Tija Maurice, author of the Prophecy Girl series
★★★★★ “Absolutely fascinating. I WANT MORE!” – Julia Mills, USA Today and NYT Bestselling Author
★★★★★ “Gripping fantasy that won’t let you go.” – Jody A. Cummings, author of the Phoenix Rising series
Hattie walked me to the door and made sure Garret was there ready for me before leaving in a hurry. She’d wanted more from me than I could give. I’d tell her sorry on a day I wasn’t recovering from second-degree murder. Or would it be manslaughter? I’d slaughtered a man and I didn’t mean to do it. Maybe I could claim insanity. I didn’t know anything about the law but what I watched on Law & Order, and not one of those episodes covered accidental creatures killing under a bright blue moon.
“I made your bed up, Lynn. I got some pot roast in the cooker on the counter if you’re hungry.” He tried—hard as it was for him to be nurturing. I wasn’t even angry with him anymore for leaving me in the hospital. He was hurting more than he could handle. It rolled off him like heat on the pavement. There wasn’t anything I could do for him. I was hurting enough for the both of us.
“I’m fine. I just wanna sleep. I need to lay down a bit.” I walked past him, head down, to my bedroom at the end of the hallway and shut the door.
The second I was alone, my cheeks flushed and my bottom lip shook, but I downright refused to cry again. I swore to myself then that I would not cry over any of it until morning. I would sleep, eat, and then figure out what in the hell I was gonna do with myself.
I laid back, pulled the covers up over my head, and tried not to think anymore. Garret rustled around in the kitchen. I knew there’d be a mess for me to clean in the morning. He didn’t cook much, which was fine with me because I tended to have more work when he did the cooking than when I did.
I listened to my brother fumbling around in cabinets and drawers and tried to sleep. My eyes closed, breathing slowed, heart took a second to catch up. Blackness took over.
I startled awake, limbs frantic, reaching out for anything to stop me from falling. I swallowed hard and flipped the covers off my head. The yellow light outside had turned pale blue, casting shadows over my room.
My eyes focused on a deep black figure in the corner. I gasped, and choked, and blinked at the thing. My stomach dropped six inches when the shape moved out of the shadow and I could see what it was.
About the Author
R.M. Gilmore is a paranormal and mystery/suspense writer and creator of the occult bestselling Dylan Hart series. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her teenage minion, bearded man-child, and toys still in the box. With an awkward and incessant sense of humor, it is likely she will die laughing.
“Star-crossed lovers and dead things. It’s what I do.” – R.M. Gilmore