The Language Of Love Has Never
Been So Intoxicating
Twenty-six years pass, Deanna moves back to the town where she grew up – back where her secret began and her life changed forever. She receives a call from the police. Both her sister and her son are in hospital, critically injured in a car accident.
Sitting with her unconscious son, Deanna meets the doctor. Recognition flashes through her mind. There is something uncannily familiar about her. Could the doctor be her daughter? But she died minutes after her birth – or so she had been told? An old friend is murdered and Deanna receives a note telling her to leave or she will suffer the same fate. What transpired all those years ago? And who is the mysterious woman she glimpses as she drives by her sister’s house? Will Deanna ever allow herself to be loved and let go of the past? Or will her search for the answers lead to her death?
Not Forgotten is one of those novels that quickly sneaks past your defences. A clever and original thriller from the pen of Donna M. Zadunajsky it proves an absorbing read from the start.
Zadunajsky isn’t the kind of writer that falls victim to convention or clichés she simply presents us with a well-told story with a watertight plot. She doesn’t aim for flawless. Relationships are cracked and riddled with human frailties and it's these that she is particularly adept at capturing to bring a level of compassion to her characters that’s refreshingly devoid of condescension. Never striving for effect and devoid of unnecessary melodrama, she knows what her readers want and she makes sure she gives it to them.
Written with an acerbic pen and a meticulous eye for detail her characters are, as always, deftly drawn. The twists are served with perfect timing and it has all the elements readers expect from a best in genre novel.
Another highly enjoyable and entertaining read from Zadunajsky,
Not Forgotten is highly recommended.
Growing up as a lonely kid in the Frozen North had one thing going for it, libraries! I was a frequent visitor in every library in every place we moved to. I spent a lot of summers at my grandparents. They had an old house, with an attic and I built my own little hiding place under the eves. I found lots of old books and magazines, and spent hours reading them while listening to the rain. Many of the books in the attic were missing covers or pages, didn’t matter, I read them all, and created my own worlds.
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