Genre: YA paranormal mystery
Word Ccount: 70,000
Most teens would do anything to have a celebrity parent. Diya would do anything to give hers up.
Adopted from an Indian slum as an infant by her movie star mom, she's grown up, amidst whippings and alcoholic meltdowns, into a sixteen-year-old with prematurely thick skin and a deep hatred for her abusive mom.
Seventeen-year-old Matthew grew up in a different type of family – the Seer's disciples. He guards a powerful crystal with the ability to control minds, a crystal entrusted to Matt's grandfather by his Indian Seer.
When Diya crashes her car en route to her aunt's house, Matthew hauls her out of the wreck. He's gorgeous enough to send her heart racing. But not enough for her to be oblivious to certain odd things about him, like his ability to see in the dark. Matt, on the other hand, recognizes Diya for who she is – the Seer's granddaughter. He needs her help to find the missing mind control crystal and trap a murderer.
Someone's using the crystal to force people to kill themselves and masking the murders as suicides.
Matt knows Diya is the only person who can reverse the crystal's power. But first, he has to convince her of her true identity. Being more comfortable with her loner status, Diya's not too keen to believe anyone, however hot he is. Plus, she has her own list of murder suspects. And, Matt, with his unusual abilities, is way up at the top.
But when her aunt is nearly killed, the threat hits home. Now the teens have to pool their abilities to try and outsmart the killer, before he figures out who they are and destroys them first.
Most kids would do anything to have a movie star parent, but as far as Diya was concerned, having a celebrity parent was way over-rated. If she had the choice between Miranda and being stranded in a deserted island without Wi-Fi, she knew what she'd pick.
That thought echoed in her mind, as she found herself in yet another staring stand-off with her mother across the length of the humongous dining table. Miranda’s hard face rivaled the cold wooden surface of the table.
Diya took a deep breath and counted to ten, waiting for the familiar explosion. And then it came.
“You’re not going anywhere, you brat. You owe me.” Miranda's skin stretched tight over high cheekbones, courtesy of the most popular plastic surgeon in LA. Any more stretching, and it would rip right down the middle. “I want you at the benefit.”
“No.” There was no way she was spending another second here. She'd planned to leave right after school, but Miranda had stopped her in the hallway.
A line of white crept around Miranda's compressed lips, a sure sign of an impending tantrum. Diya's mouth went dry, but she forced herself to meet the woman's glare with a steady gaze. Years of verbal sparring had taught her one thing. The woman could spot a chink in your armor from a mile away.