Today I am welcoming J.S Monroe with an exclusive excerpt from his book Forget My Name. So before I share this with you, shall we take a look at this book?Forget My Name by J.S. Monroe
Published by Head of Zeus on October 4 2018
Buy on Amazon UK, Google Play, iBooks, Kobo
Add to Goodreads
Also by this author: The Other You
How do you know who to trust......when you don't even know who you are?
You are outside your front door. There are strangers in your house.Then you realise. You can't remember your name.
She arrived at the train station after a difficult week at work. Her bag had been stolen, and with it, her identity. Her whole life was in there – passport, wallet, house key. When she tried to report the theft, she couldn’t remember her own name. All she knew was her own address.
Now she's outside Tony and Laura's front door. She says she lives in their home. They say they have never met her before.
One of them is lying.
WOW WOW WOW, right!! I have got a copy of this book, but my gosh do I need to move this up the list! I think I need a week off just to read, now that sounds like a plan….however I digress! Well, fab blurb! Shall we catch up with the other bloggers and their thoughts so far and when you can check out their sparkly blogs?
Forget My Name is a slow burn story, full of suspense and mystery. The author manages to build up such an intense and creepy atmosphere that you won’t know who to trust in the end. It flowed so easy and had me on the edge of my seat the entire time I was reading it.
If you enjoy creepy thrillers with a good build up, this is for you!!!
This was an intriguing read from start to finish. I’m so looking forward to reading more from this author in the future. Highly recommend this read.
This book was thrill after thrill, shock after shock, twist after twist. I loved how the novel kept me guessing to the very end, and you never knew which way the story was going to turn next. With an unreliable, untrustworthy and shady main character, to other characters you will learn to love (or love to hate!), this novel was a heck of a ride and a pleasure to read. From the beginning to the end, I was immersed in this story.
Book Babble says
This is an AMAZING story! I wish it was receiving more buzz online, and that more of the readers I know were reading it. It absolutely deserves to be a best-seller and to be made into a movie.
This is one of those stories that draws you in from the very beginning. With a first line like “I can’t remember my own name,” you just KNOW it has tons of potential.
Tea Party Princess says
I thought that Forget My Name by JS Monroe was a very clever read, I liked the way the story twisted and turned, and how I never knew who to trust or what was true. It is a compelling read that I couldn’t put down.
Jane Hunt Writer says
Chilling, compulsive reading, with realistic characters, hard to spot clues, and a relentless pace make this an addictive book that you read with the fervent hope you never forget who you are.
Overall, this was a fabulously dark thriller which will keep you wondering what the hell is going on and turning the pages furiously just to find out! It’s well written, with some great research and I really enjoyed it! Would definitely recommend!
Overall Forget My Name is a twisty psychological thriller that at times had a sinister/creepy undertone.
Check out an interview over at Jane Hunt Writer
✮ Excerpt ✮
He smiles conspiratorially and reaches for the bottle of Pouilly-Fumé. ‘Do you want some wine?’
‘No thanks. Dr Patterson says I should stay off the alcohol.’
‘She’s right. Bad for the brain. I might have a small glass.’
He talks further about his gallery café, how he’s getting more passing cyclists and narrowboat tourists than he thought, and then there’s a lacuna in our conversation. We’ve finished the chowder and I’m sipping on another mint tea, holding the mug with both hands in the hope that it prevents any more shaking.
‘Can you describe how it feels?’ he asks. ‘To not remember?’
I think for a moment before I answer. I know I should talk to him about amnesia – it’s important – but I’m finding this all so difficult.
‘It’s like I’m on a speedboat, racing across the open sea,’ I begin. ‘When I look back, expecting to see a wake behind me, there’s just calm, empty water, stretching for miles and miles, no evidence that I’ve even been there. And what’s really weird is that the water ahead looks empty too. It’s almost as if I’m unable to imagine a future if I can’t recall my past.’
‘Are you frightened about tomorrow morning, having to start all over again?’
‘When I read everything that’s gone on today I won’t believe that it all’s happened to me, that it’s my life.’
I begin to feel tearful, hearing myself summarise the day I’ve had. I’ve done well this evening to hold it together. ‘The thing is, I’m starting to forget things myself,’ he says. ‘Little things.’
He doesn’t answer immediately and when he does, his voice is quieter, more thoughtful. ‘It’s not so much not being able to find the car keys but wondering for a split second what they’re for when I do find them.’
‘Does that worry you?’
‘It terrifies me.’ He pauses. ‘Like a glimpse into old age.’
‘My life has only just begun,’ I say, managing a laugh. ‘I’m two days old.’
He smiles, but I know his heart isn’t in it, his mind elsewhere. He gets up from the table and starts to clear the dishes.
‘I don’t like the thought of you waking up on your own, in that poky old pub room,’ he says, his back to me at the sink.
‘You’re welcome to stay here, you know. Down on the sofa, or up in the guest room. I just think you might need someone around in the morning.’
‘Dinner was lovely. Delicious. But I need to go now.’ I dab at my lips with a napkin. The shaking has started again. ‘I’m tired. And I’ve got a lot to write up. To remember.’
‘As you like,’ he says, turning to me. He wipes his hands on the tea towel and folds it neatly.
‘But thank you,’ I say, getting up from the table. I need to be away from here. I head through to the sitting room.
‘It’s better you use the rear door,’ he calls out after me. ‘And at least let me walk you over to the pub.’
‘I’m fine, honestly,’ I say, trying not to panic. It’s as if we’ve embarked on a frantic dance, manoeuvring around each other.
I manage to resist running out into the street and make myself return to the kitchen, where he has opened the back door. He puts a hand on my arm to stop me as I pass him. I know what’s coming next, how our dance will end.
Until next time xxx
Thank you so much to Vicky at Aria for the tour invite and the author for the excerpt from the book