They called me reckless. But I was more like a wrecking ball and it was intentional.

I get into stuff as a sort of punishment for mistakes of my past like what happened to Daddy back then, and the dumpster fire I left Mama and my little sister Pen to deal with when I couldn’t stand to be in Brook Haven any longer. Maybe when I moved to DC, that’s why I got involved with Conrad even though I knew he would be an absolute disaster.

Back home for nearly a week and it already felt like I was suffocating. Every reminder of why I left six years ago and never came back kept rushing at me in between the waves that my grandfather is dead. My grandfather’s funeral was in a few hours and Mama bustled around the house. She’d been sending off rapid fire commands to my little sister Pen and me from the moment she woke us before the sun rose to start on her way too long To Do List. Our current task was to pull out the days’ worth of food well-wishers had been bringing by since Granddad’s passing. There was more food than the three of us would ever eat. But Mama was diagnosed with a serious affliction of southern hospitality and refused to turn away another casserole or cake or pie. Though she refused to throw anything away, never wanting to be wasteful or unappreciative, she was also a firm believer of, “You can’t eat from just anyone’s kitchen.”

One of the very few things Mama and I agree on, actually.

Hence, the food will go on the countertop, waiting to be moved to the hall for Granddad’s repass after he is buried. He’ll rest next to Daddy. Next to Grandma. Next to his youngest son also gone too soon. It would be Granddad’s final journey and that finality will likely undo me with everyone watching.

“Don’t you dare go hide to fire up that contraption of yours,” Mama chided from behind me. I jumped at least a foot in the air. A moment ago, she’d been upstairs complaining that she hoped Associate Pastor Felder wouldn’t be long winded during the service because he liked to hear himself speak about absolutely nothing. Plus, Granddad didn’t care much for him either, but those words would never travel beyond these Brodie walls.

She’d always had the ability to seemingly materialize from thin air. Her eyes zeroed in on the backpack in my hands which housed my hookah. It was my lifeline and I needed the calm before the upcoming storm.

“I don’t need you smelling like candy or bubble gum or whatever other mess you’re about to vapor up.”

She spat out the incorrect verb like it was a curse, but remarkably, refrained from forming air quotes.

Mama huffed away and was replaced by Pen who squeezed my arm in silent solidarity before gently prying my fingers from my backpack. She whispered a comforting, “Maybe later?” Like I was some little kid who didn’t know that “Maybe later” meant “Ain’t gonna be today.”

I sighed, staring wistfully at my ever elusive backyard sanctuary with nothing left but to mourn my failed escape from the food, the bark of Mama’s unending orders, her intermittent hum of church songs, the chatter of guests dropping by for this or that, the thoughts of how small the Brodie family of Brook Haven has become, and the anxiety of how I will get through the rest of the day with the whole town watching and waiting for my wrecking ball to swing again.

Not What She Seems
Genre: Domestic Thriller
Release: August 2024
Format: Print, Digital, Audio
Purchase Link

She left home as the local pariah at twenty-two, but when a family tragedy brings her back, she must confront her tortured past—and a new danger in town that no one seems to understand but her.

After years of self-exile, Jacinda “Jac” Brodie is back in Brook Haven, South Carolina. But the small cliffside town no longer feels like home. Jac hasn’t been there since the beloved chief of police fell to his death—and all the whispers said she was to blame.

That chief was Jac’s father.

Racked with guilt, Jac left town with no plans to return. But when her granddad lands in the hospital, she rushes back to her family, bracing herself to confront the past.

Brook Haven feels different now. Wealthy newcomer Faye Arden has transformed the notorious Moor Manor into a quaint country inn. Jac’s convinced something sinister lurks beneath Faye’s perfect exterior, yet the whole town fawns over their charismatic new benefactor. And when Jac discovers one of her granddad’s prized possessions in Faye’s office, she knows she has to be right.

But as Jac continues to dig, she stumbles upon dangerous truths that hit too close to home. With not only her life but also her family’s safety on the line, Jac discovers that maybe some secrets are better left buried.

About the author
Yasmin Angoe is a former educator, freelance developmental editor, and author of the critically acclaimed and Anthony-nominated Her Name is Knight of the Nena Knight trilogy. She received the 2020 Eleanor Taylor Bland Award for Emerging Writers of Color from Sisters in Crime where she now sits on the Board. Yasmin was a finalist for the Library of Virginia’s People Choice award. Some reviews of Yasmin’s work can be found in The New York Times, OprahDaily.com, Deadline, The Guardian, PopSugar, and Women’s World. Her latest work is the standalone suspense thriller, Not What She Seems. Connect with her at yasminangoe.com.