I left Los Angeles and moved to Long Beach, California, because I thought it’d be less cold—I don’t mean the temperature, I mean the atmosphere, the lack of caring, the judgment, the sheer disdain for those who haven’t made it. I escaped LA, but not the hell that it is to be a homeless woman . . .
Rage. The worst kind. That’s what filled Brody Altmeyer’s entire body after he finished reading the TechCrunch article on his iPhone . . .
On Clearwater Lake Road, there’s a fork. To get to Gerson’s U-Pick-It, you turn right. But I got turned around in my head and drove left . . .
A white Prius squealed up the driveway of the Chevron station and pulled around back. Dark, syrupy blood dried to the grill . . .
I looked out my apartment window through the Venetian blinds down at a street full of shadows . . .
To celebrate the release of Lost Canyon, we’re pleased to bring you a spotlight on Children’s Institute, Inc., a nonprofit organization for which author Nina Revoyr serves as executive vice president and chief operating officer.
Flat on my back in the middle of one of the most famous intersections in the world, Hollywood and Vine. Cars slalom around me. Finally, it becomes clear, like a fade-in from a bad movie: what it all means. The pictures run through my mind at twenty-four frames per second . . .
My fiancé Jeff offered up his family’s hunting cabin in northern California so I could finish my novel. No phone, Internet, or TV . . .