Kate Morton has a wonderful way of making mysteries enjoyable, rather than the dry "whodunits" I've come to loathe. Each twist and turn is anticipated like a gift for turning the pages. Even though they may take me a bit to finish, I've really enjoyed the last two novels I've read and can't wait ...
An homage to classic Gothic literature, Morton's text is haunting and suspenseful, interlaced with the mournful secrets of family legacies and jilted lovers. Following the arrival of a mysterious letter to her mother 50 years after its creation, London book editor Edie Burchill finds herself draw...
First book for me by this author. I felt it was too long, unnecessarily so, bringing about a feeling of impatience similar to waiting for water to come out of a previously drained container. I hope that makes sense. I lost patience with the construction of the story as well as it bounced around b...
I had goosebumps all the way through this book and I simply couldn't put it down. As soon as I thought I had it all figured out, something happens to throw me off completely. I thought the book was well researched and the caracters were built up so beautifully. The book has an incredibly eery qua...
4,5 stars (http://labirinto-livros.blogspot.pt/2...)O Segredo da Casa de Riverton foi a primeira obra que Kate Morton apresentou ao público. Foi com este livro que o sucesso da autora se fez sentir pela primeira vez e até hoje, todas as suas obras têm tido muito sucesso por esse mundo fora. Apesa...
Summer 1924: On the eve of a glittering society party, by the lake of a grand English country house, a young poet takes his life. The only witnesses, sisters Hannah and Emmeline Hartford, will never speak to each other again. Winter 1999: Grace Bradley, 98, one-time housemaid of Riverton Manor,...
No mother or father going about their business in another room, no excitable sisters making the floor-boards creak upstairs, no baby brother, no pets. Not so much as a hen roosting in the boxes outside. Laurel lived by herself in London, she’d done so on and off for the better part of forty years...
It was 1933, early spring but still cold, and she’d been sitting in the Loeanneth airing cupboard all morning with her feet against the hot-water tank, reading through the collection of newspaper clippings she kept beneath lock and key in the filigree metal box Grandfather Horace had brought back...