Cicadas Sing of Summer Graves
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A drowned town. A damning secret. The ghostly chill of memory...and three women who must face the past in order to bring light to an old Southern town lost deep beneath the surface.
Prosper, Arkansas had not always been this way. Years ago, at the height of the summer swelter, in the wake of an unexpected storm, the local dam failed and the valley flooded—drowning the town and everyone trapped inside.
The secrets of old Prosper drowned with them.
Now, decades later, when a mysterious locked box is pulled from the depths of the lake, three descendants of that long-ago tragedy are hurled into another feverish summer. Cassie: the reclusive sole witness to an impossible horror no one believes. Lark: a wide-eyed dreamer haunted by bizarre visions. June: caught between longing for a fresh start and bearing witness to the ghosts of the past. Bound together, all three must contend with their home's complex history—and with the ruins of the town lost far beneath the troubled water.
Also By Quinn Connor:
The Pecan Children
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Quinn Connor is one pen in two hands: Robyn Barrow and Alexandra Cronin. An Arkansan and a Texan, when they aren’t writing, they’re arguing about the differences between queso and cheese dip. Both writers from young ages, Robyn and Alexandra met in college and together developed their unique co-writing voice. They are very thankful that no matter what, there’s always one other person in the world who cares about their characters as much as they do. Robyn is a PhD candidate in art history at the University of Pennsylvania. When she isn’t scavenging cheese and free wine at lectures, she spends her days happily exploring crumbling medieval churches. Alexandra is a North Texas transplant living in Brooklyn with her monstrous cat, Prosper, working in PR to fund her writing habit. In her free time, she can be found exploring the city for a new favorite restaurant, topping off her tea, and amassing a collection of winter coats. Unless Robyn is trekking in Iceland, or Alexandra is chasing down rumors of homemade pasta in Park Slope, they write every day. It’s their preferred form of conversation.
