{"id":16667,"date":"2022-02-07T06:00:00","date_gmt":"2022-02-07T11:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/?p=16667"},"modified":"2022-02-11T16:43:52","modified_gmt":"2022-02-11T21:43:52","slug":"blog-tour-wreck-the-swallowtail-legacy-at-adas-reef-by-michael-d-beil-excerpt-giveaway","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/blog-tour-wreck-the-swallowtail-legacy-at-adas-reef-by-michael-d-beil-excerpt-giveaway\/","title":{"rendered":"Blog Tour: The Swallowtail Legacy: Wreck at Ada&#8217;s Reef by Michael D. Beil (Excerpt + Giveaway!)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p class=\"ubb-blog-tour-banner\"><a href=\"https:\/\/rockstarbooktours.com\" target=\"_blank\"><img src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/wreck-at-adas-reef-banner.png\" alt=\"Blog Tour: The Swallowtail Legacy: Wreck at Ada&#039;s Reef by Michael D. Beil (Excerpt + Giveaway!)\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p>Happy Monday and welcome to my stop on the blog tour for THE SWALLOWTAIL LEGACY: WRECK AT ADA&#8217;S REEF by Michael D. Beil! I\u2019m so excited to share an excerpt of the book with you today, AND more information about the author and tour, PLUS you can enter the giveaway to win a print copy! <\/p>\n\n\n\n<!--more-->\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"850\" height=\"50\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-17150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png 850w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-300x18.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-768x45.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 850px) 100vw, 850px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n<img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/wreck-at-adas-reef-cover.png\" alt=\"Blog Tour: The Swallowtail Legacy: Wreck at Ada&#8217;s Reef by Michael D. Beil (Excerpt + Giveaway!)\" title=\"Blog Tour: The Swallowtail Legacy: Wreck at Ada&#8217;s Reef by Michael D. Beil (Excerpt + Giveaway!)\" class=\"ubb-cover-image alignleft\"><strong>The Swallowtail Legacy: Wreck at Ada's Reef<\/strong> by <a href=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/reviews\/authors\/michael-d-beil\/\">Michael D. Beil<\/a> <br><strong>Published on<\/strong>  February 1, 2022 by <a href=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/reviews\/publishers\/pixelink\/\">Pixel+ink<\/a> <br><strong>Genres:<\/strong> <a href=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/reviews\/genres\/contemporary\/\">Contemporary<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/reviews\/genres\/middle-grade\/\">Middle Grade<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/reviews\/genres\/mystery\/\">Mystery<\/a> <br><strong>Pages:<\/strong> 256 <br><strong>Add to <\/strong><a href=\"https:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/book\/show\/57927160-the-swallowtail-legacy\" target=\"_blank\">Goodreads<\/a> <br><strong>Author Links:<\/strong> <a href=\"https:\/\/www.michaeldbeil.com\/\" target=\"_blank\" class=\"\">Website<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/MichaelDBeil\/\" target=\"_blank\" class=\"\">Facebook<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/author\/show\/1908142.Michael_D_Beil\" target=\"_blank\" class=\"\">Goodreads<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3fUwR6L\" target=\"_blank\" class=\"\">Amazon<\/a> <br><blockquote class=\"ubb-synopsis\"><p>Twelve-year-old Lark Heron-Finch is steeling herself to spend the summer on Swallowtail Island off the shores of Lake Erie. It's the first time that she and her sister will have seen the old house since their mom passed away. And while her stepfather and his boys are okay, the island's always been full of happy memories--and now everything is different.<br \/>\nWhen Nadine, a close family friend, tells Lark about a tragic boat accident that happened off the coast many years before, Lark's enthralled with the story. Nadine's working on a book about Dinah Purdy, Swallowtails's oldest resident who had a connection to the crash, and she's sure that the accident was not as it appeared. Impressed by Lark's keen eye, she hires her as her research assistant for the summer.<br \/>\nAnd then Lark discovers something amazing. Something that could change Dinah's life. Something linked to the crash and even to her own family's history with Swallowtail. But there are others on the island who would do anything to keep the truth buried in the watery depths of the past.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\t\t<script type=\"application\/ld+json\">\n{\n\t\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\n\t\"@type\":\"Review\",\n\t\"datePublished\": \"2022-02-07T11:00:00+00:00\",\n\t\"description\": \"\\nHappy Monday and welcome to my stop on the blog tour for THE SWALLOWTAIL LEGACY: WRECK AT ADA'S REEF by Michael D. Beil! I\\u2019m so excited to share an excerpt of the book with you today, AND more\",\n\t\"publisher\": {\n\t\t\"@type\": \"Organization\",\n\t\t\"name\": \"Kait Plus Books\"\t},\n\t\"url\": \"https:\\\/\\\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\\\/books\\\/blog-tour-wreck-the-swallowtail-legacy-at-adas-reef-by-michael-d-beil-excerpt-giveaway\\\/\",\n\t\"itemReviewed\": {\n\t\t\"@type\": \"Book\",\n\t\t\"name\": \"The Swallowtail Legacy: Wreck at Ada's Reef\",\n\t\t\"author\": {\n\t\t\t\"@type\": \"Person\",\n\t\t\t\"name\": \"Michael D. Beil\",\n\t\t\t\"sameAs\": \"https:\\\/\\\/www.michaeldbeil.com\\\/\"\t\t},\n\t\t\"isbn\": \"1645950484\"\t},\n\t\"author\": {\n\t\t\"@type\": \"Person\",\n\t\t\"name\": \"Kaity\",\n\t\t\"sameAs\": \"https:\\\/\\\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\\\/books\\\/\"\t},\n\t\"reviewRating\": {\n\t\t\"@type\": \"Rating\",\n\t\t\"ratingValue\": false,\n\t\t\"bestRating\": \"5\"\n\t}\n}\n\n\n\n\t\t<\/script>\n\t\t\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"850\" height=\"50\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-17150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png 850w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-300x18.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-768x45.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 850px) 100vw, 850px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"200\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Read-an-Excerpt-February-2022.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-16642\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Read-an-Excerpt-February-2022.png 1024w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Read-an-Excerpt-February-2022-300x59.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Read-an-Excerpt-February-2022-768x150.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<h1 class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-heading\" id=\"chapter-one\"><strong>Chapter One<\/strong><\/h1>\n\n\n\n<p>IT\u2019S A DRIZZLY SUNDAY MORNING, the day after my twelfth birthday, and my family\u2014such as it is\u2014has arrived at Swallowtail Island in the western end of Lake Erie. All six of us stand on the foredeck of the ferry Niagara as it makes the turn at the buoy marked R3 at the entrance to the harbor. My ten-year-old sister Pip and I shiver in our thin cotton dresses, our arms pocked with goose bumps, as the town comes into view before us. Its two piers are like long arms reaching out into the harbor to greet us (Pip\u2019s interpretation), or to push us away (mine). As the Niagara bullies its way down the narrow channel, its bow pushing a wall of water, the previously unruffled surface is pulled and stretched like gray taffy. Moored boats dance in our wake as we pass, bows and sterns rising and dipping with each wave. Near the east shore a fleet of mallards steams south toward a dilapidated wooden dock, and above me, a single gull cries, then swoops down to see if I have anything to offer it. Pogo, our English setter, \u201csets\u201d beside me, body quivering and tail high in the air. I reach down and stroke the top of her head, but she doesn\u2019t take her eyes off the gull for a second.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>My heart leaps when we bump against the pilings at the ferry dock and lines are made fast: we have arrived. Without a word, Pip slips her tiny hand into mine; together our hearts pound out a rhythm that I am sure can be heard over the whining engine and shouts of dockhands.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Our stepfather, Thomas, gathers Pip and me along with his own three boys\u2014Blake, Nate, and Jack\u2014with his long arms. \u201cEverybody ready? We should get a family picture. This is a big\u2014\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLet\u2019s not,\u201d I say. When I was five, and Pip three, our dad died when the small plane piloted by his best friend crashed into the Connecticut River a few hundred yards short of the runway at Goodspeed Airport. That same summer, Thomas\u2019s wife was killed by a falling tree branch while she was jogging in Central Park. Four and half years later, Mom married Thomas. They had been friends (nothing more, they both insisted) in college and reconnected at a class reunion. So we had kind of a Brady Bunch thing going for a couple of years but then, three months ago, Mom died, and what was left? Thomas and his kids, and then Pip and me. I don\u2019t know what we are, exactly, but it doesn\u2019t feel quite like a family. \u201cC\u2019mon, Lark,\u201d Pip says, squeezing my hand. \u201cWe should.\u201d I am saved from the indignity of a family selfie there on the foredeck by one of the ferry\u2019s crew: \u201cOkay, folks. Need to ask you to move along.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We wind our way down the steep metal staircase and onto the gangplank. When I reach the end, I hesitate before taking the final step onto the worn wood planks of the pier but there is, I know, no turning back. For the next seventy-two days (yes, I\u2019m counting) this is home.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019m not off the hook for that family portrait yet, though. Thomas has already recruited a woman in a yellow slicker to take our picture in front of a sign that announces \u201cWelcome to Swallowtail Island\u201d and is busy composing the shot. \u201cLark, since you\u2019re the tallest, in the back with me and Blake.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I grunt and move into my assigned place. Sometimes it is easier just to do what Thomas wants and get it over with. The woman in yellow says, \u201cSmile!\u201d and I do my best to provide something that at least resembles one. My teeth are clearly visible, so that counts, right?&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With that little bit of torture out of the way, the other five of us leave Blake, not quite fourteen, in charge of our bags and the cage holding my budgie, Bedlam, and trudge toward town to get our bearings and to find a ride to the house that has been in our family since the 1920s, and where Mom spent her summers as a kid. The last time I was here was the summer I turned ten, the same summer that Mom first got sick. After that, it was like someone hit pause on our lives. For the next two years, the only traveling we did was on I-95 between Connecticut and Lenox Hill Hospital in New York.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It was a lawyer who pressed play, calling us into his office the week after Mom died to tell Pip and me that the house on Swallowtail Island now belonged to the two of us.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>***<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As we amble along Main Street, strangers in a strange (and strangely quiet) land, a light, ground-hugging fog filters out the town\u2019s imperfections\u2014the peeling paint, the cracked and frost heaved sidewalks, the shuttered storefronts\u2014making it appear more charming than I remembered it to be. Slowly, though, the fog lifts higher and higher, until it hovers just above the treetops, and the sun begins to peek between the maple branches, highlighting Swallowtail\u2019s blemishes in a golden glow. But who am I to call out its flaws? I mean, it\u2019s not like I\u2019m perfect\u2014ask anyone. When Thomas first told us that we were going to spend the summer on Swallowtail Island, it was his idea that I start keeping a journal, to help me deal with \u201cmy issues.\u201d He first brought it up when Mom got sick but I wanted nothing to do with it. \u201cTrust me,\u201d I said. \u201cYou really don\u2019t want to know what I\u2019m thinking most of the time.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s not for me,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s for you. I\u2019m not going to read it. You\u2019re right\u2014I don\u2019t want to know what you\u2019re thinking. But it\u2019s good for you to know, and sometimes the only way to do that is to write it down.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s supposed to go in it?\u201d I asked.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhatever you want. What you\u2019d like to say out loud but don\u2019t\u2014that is, if there is anything that fits in that category. You\u2019re a very observant person. Unusually so, I\u2019d say. But you\u2019re so much more than a mere observer. You\u2019re constantly gathering and analyzing data, plugging it into your own formula of how the world works. You\u2019re a born scientist. On top of that, you have a baloney detector that would make Holden Caulfield proud. So, observe. Gather. Rant. Draw pictures if you want. There\u2019s no rules unless you make them. Marcus Aurelius wrote in the morning.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Seneca did it at night.\u201d Thus began the unvarnished journal of Meadowlark Elizabeth Heron Finch. I know, right? Twenty-nine letters, not counting that hyphen. (\u201cA perch for the two birds,\u201d Mom explained.) My sister\u2019s is almost as bad: Sandpiper Alanna Heron-Finch. When my mom, Kate Heron, met my dad, Marc Finch, they decided that the bird thing was fate, so when we came along, they \u201chad no choice\u201d but to keep the ball rolling. By the way, no one calls us by our real names, ever. I\u2019m Lark and she\u2019s Piper or, most of the time, just Pip.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>For the moment, there\u2019s only one rule when it comes to my story: I promise to be honest. Otherwise, what\u2019s the point? But I should probably clarify: Just because I promise not to lie doesn\u2019t mean that I\u2019m going to tell the entire truth. I\u2019m not one of those people who is determined to share every unspoken thought with the world and I don\u2019t want to be. Here\u2019s the God\u2019s Honest Truth about me: There are places in my own brain that, when I make a wrong turn and accidentally end up there, I turn around and get out as fast as I can. No need to go poking around places like that\u2014who knows what I\u2019ll find.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>***<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Further west on Main Street, the town starts to perk up. No cars or motorcycles are allowed on the island, so it\u2019s not unusual to see horses and buggies sharing the road with electric golf carts and bicycles. To Pip, who has taken riding lessons at a stable in Chester for the past two years, horses are the best thing about the island. She loves them beyond all reason, and once prepared a PowerPoint presentation to convince Thomas to buy her one. I think they\u2019re very pretty, but the GHT (God\u2019s Honest Truth) is that I can do without them. A twenty-year old palomino tossed me out of the saddle at summer camp a few years ago, and I swear he looked back and laughed at me when I hit the ground. And seriously, have you seen those teeth? I\u2019ll take a bicycle, thank you very much.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We stop in front of the old-fashioned drugstore where we arrange for a wagon to take all of us and our stuff to the house. The boys go inside with their dad while Pip and I stay out on the sidewalk. She wanders a few doors down to pet a horse that is harnessed to a small, Amish-style buggy while I peek through the front window at a stack of the local weekly newspaper, the Swallowtail Citizen. The headline reads \u201cTragedy Strikes Swallowtail 75 Years Ago,\u201d and next to it is a grainy black-and-white photo that takes up the top right quarter of the page. It shows the wrecked hull of an old-school wooden speedboat\u2014like something from an old movie. There are several ragged holes across the bottom of the boat, the largest a good three feet long. Not all of the article is visible through the glass, but I\u2019m able to read enough to learn that the writer is convinced that the speedboat crash that killed Albert Pritchard was no accident and that it was probably also connected to the death of the town\u2019s most important citizen, Captain Edward Cheever. Pritchard was Cheever\u2019s lawyer, and was returning from visiting friends in Leamington, Ontario, when he plowed into the rocks known as Ada\u2019s Reef just west of Swallowtail Island. When I\u2019ve read as far as I can through the drugstore window, I go back to the top where I see that the article was written by Nadine Pritchard\u2014Mom\u2019s oldest friend and the main character in just about every story from her childhood.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPip, you have any money on you?\u201d I ask. \u201cI need fifty cents for a paper.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat? No. It\u2019s back in my bag. Come and look at this horse. Isn\u2019t he beautiful?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYeah, he\u2019s great,\u201d I say, handing her Pogo\u2019s leash. \u201cHold Pogo for a sec. I\u2019m going inside. Don\u2019t go anywhere.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thomas is on his way out the door as I open it. \u201cWe\u2019re all set,\u201d he says. \u201cThe wagon\u2019ll be here in a few minutes. Supposedly.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Where\u2019s Pip?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I nod in her direction.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh, right. Horses.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCan I borrow fifty cents?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSure.\u201d As he digs two quarters out of his pocket and holds them out, I realize he already has a copy of the newspaper in his other hand.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh. You already . . . that\u2019s what I was gonna buy.\u201d He hands me the paper, along with a five-dollar bill. \u201cGet some drinks for you and Pip. This may take a while. Remember the last time? The guy showed up an hour late and then he blamed us. Said we were in the wrong place.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thomas is right. Everything on Swallowtail Island takes a while. Our house is only a couple of miles from the drugstore, but by the time we pick up Blake and the bags and clippity-clop our way there, winding through the streets of downtown and then north on the unpaved Captain\u2019s Road, a good hour has passed. I don\u2019t mind; the sky has cleared up and I\u2019m lying back with my head on my duffel, reading the rest of Nadine\u2019s story about the speedboat crash and ignoring the locals who stop to watch us go by, some of them shaking their heads and muttering about \u201csummer people.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Shortly after we pass the protected cove known to the locals as \u201cthe little harbor,\u201d we come to a fork in the road.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s our house!\u201d Pip cries, pulling me up by the arm to make me look at the carved wooden sign pointing to \u201cThe Roost.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The driver makes the turn and we wind down a long, dusty drive bordered by cornflowers and Queen Anne\u2019s lace with Pip still gripping my arm and vibrating with excitement. As for me, I\u2019m acting nonchalant, but inside I have to admit that I\u2019m incredibly curious if nothing else. I can\u2019t deny that I still haven\u2019t wrapped my head around the idea that the Roost actually belongs to Pip and me, and no one else. It sounds like something from an old novel.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Around one final bend, and the house and barn come into view.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHere we are,\u201d the driver says, making a wide turn in the yard.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We\u2019re still moving, but Pip stands, so now it\u2019s my turn to hold her arm so she doesn\u2019t do a face-plant into the dirt. Her mouth falls open, and she shakes her head in disbelief. \u201cIt\u2019s so beautiful! It seems like forever since we were here.\u201d Sometimes two years is forever.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The house has definitely suffered a bit from neglect in the two years since our last visit, not that it was in perfect condition then. It\u2019s kind of New England-y looking, like our house in Connecticut, except that the Roost\u2019s siding and trim are badly in need of a paint job, and quite a few shingles are either missing or crooked. But the yard is neat and freshly mowed, and somebody has trimmed the shrubs around the house. With the exception of a couple of broken windowpanes, the barn\u2014classic red with a gambrel roof, and surrounded by a good-sized fenced pasture\u2014is in excellent condition.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The wagon shudders to a stop and all five of us kids (and Pogo) hop off, ready to explore, when Thomas predictably holds up a hand. \u201cWait. Everybody stop right where you are. Let\u2019s get the bags off the wagon and then . . . we need a picture.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Five groans. Maybe six\u2014I swear Pogo joined in. She is ready to chase something\u2014anything.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMan,\u201d I say, hanging my head. \u201cYou\u2019re killing me.\u201d He grins and lines us up with the house in the background. The wagon driver takes the picture, then climbs back aboard and waves goodbye. \u201cGive me a call if you need a ride anywhere,\u201d he says. \u201cNumber\u2019s on the card.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thomas thanks him, then says, \u201cNow, maybe one of just Lark and Pip. It is their house, after all. The rest of us are their guests.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCan I be opening the door?\u201d Pip asks. \u201cWhere\u2019s the key?\u201d \u201cHere you go,\u201d says Thomas, tossing her a red rabbit\u2019s foot with one brass key dangling from the chain.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She opens the door and then assumes a car show\u2013model pose, pointing to the opening as a small bird flies out, missing her head by inches. Pip holds a hand to her heart. \u201cOmigosh. That scared me!\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAre you done?\u201d I ask Thomas, so flustered by the bird that he drops his phone.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHe probably came down the chimney,\u201d he says. \u201cYour mom mentioned something about that. Anyway, I got the picture, so we can go inside.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cProbably a swallow,\u201d Pip suggests as we crowd through the narrow door. \u201cThe island\u2019s named after them, there\u2019s so many here. I think it\u2019s a sign that we\u2019re going to have a great summer.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201c\u2018One swallow does not make a summer, neither does one fine day,\u2019\u201d says Thomas, mysteriously. We all ignore him as we do whenever he says something strange, so he adds, \u201cAristotle said that.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Goody for him, I think.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s a good thing we got here when we did,\u201d says Jack, eight, the youngest. \u201cThat poor bird would have starved to death.\u201d Jack worries about things like that. He\u2019s the kind of kid who shoos ants out of the house instead of killing them. \u201cAre you sure it wasn\u2019t a bat?\u201d asks Nate, who is two days older than Pip, a difference that he never lets her forget. \u201cI hate bats.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I set the newspaper and my backpack on the kitchen table. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t a bat. They only come out at night . . . when they turn into vampires.\u201d I whisper into his ear: \u201cAnd go searching for the blood of little boys. Especially little boys with brown eyes and curly hair.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pip stands in the middle of the kitchen, hugging herself as she takes in the whole scene. \u201cIt\u2019s exactly the way I remember it.\u201d She runs to the hallway closet, opens the door, and then points at pencil marks on the wood trim inside with a squeal. \u201cThey\u2019re still here!\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t they be?\u201d I ask. \u201cYou think someone\u2019s going to break in here and erase them?\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI know, but it\u2019s Mommy! Katie, age five! She was so little! Here she is at ten, the same as me.\u201d She backs up against the wall and looks at me. \u201cWho\u2019s taller?\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I lean in for a closer look. \u201cLooks like a tie.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, it\u2019s not,\u201d says Blake. \u201cPip\u2019s\u2014\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cExactly the same height,\u201d Thomas cuts him off with a wink.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Blake takes the hint. \u201cOh . . . yeah. You\u2019re right.\u201d Pip\u2019s face lights up even brighter. \u201cAnd then she grew all the way to . . . here! Do you think I will, too?\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDefinitely,\u201d I say as I wander through the kitchen door into the wallpapered dining room and through that into the living room\u2014my living room, I think to myself. A wide staircase divides the rest of the downstairs into two large rooms, the \u201cofficial\u201d living room with its stiff, rather dated furniture, and the room that Mom called the bird room, with walls of book shelves and a small loft (reached by a ladder) in the bay that juts out toward the lake. (This might be the place to say that Mom, no doubt inspired by the family name, became a professor of ornithology at a university that everyone has heard of.) Anyway, the reason it\u2019s called the bird room is obvious: Resting on tables and shelves, hanging from wires, perched on curtain rods, sitting on the molding above doors and windows, and everywhere else you look are birds of every shape and size. A life-sized great blue heron in bronze anchors one end of the fireplace mantel, at the other is a mounted tree branch with a variety of carved and brightly painted finches (a gift from Dad to Mom on their wedding day).&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Something about not seeing the house and especially this room full of memories for a couple of years gets to me. I feel my legs getting a little wobbly, so I settle into a chair before I do a face-plant onto the hardwood. Pip and the boys are running around\u2014why are they screaming, anyway?\u2014but I stay in the chair for a long time, composing myself.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Eventually, Thomas finds his way to the bird room. \u201cThere you are. I wondered . . . are you okay? You look a little peaked.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat? I\u2019m fine,\u201d I say, almost believing it myself. \u201cOh. Geez. This room . . . I\u2019d forgotten . . .\u201d He looks a little weak in the knees, too, and he steadies himself with one hand on the mantel. He reaches up with his other hand and runs it down the neck of the bronze heron, turning his face away from me. When his shoulders start to tremble, I feel like I\u2019m intruding on a private moment and decide to busy myself by airing out the room. I head to the far end of the room, where I push aside the curtains and turn the cranks to open the windows wide. As a faint breeze begins to replace the stuffy, stale air, Thomas wipes his eyes and forces a smile.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood idea,\u201d he says. \u201cLet\u2019s open all of them. Then everybody out to the front yard.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I grab Bedlam\u2019s cage from the kitchen and race up the stairs, taking a sharp left into the room that Pip and I share. Both upstairs bedrooms have views of the lake, but the one on the left is smaller and has a pair of matching twin beds, while the one on the right has two sets of bunk beds for the three boys. Pip, a step behind me, runs straight to the French doors that take up much of the front wall and throws them open. Her hands cup her face as she steps out onto the narrow balcony that runs the width of the room and looks out at the western end of Lake Erie, letting the wind tousle her hair. \u201cI feel like I\u2019m dreaming. It\u2019s too perfect. I\u2019m afraid I\u2019m going to wake up and it\u2019ll all be gone.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I set Bedlam on an end table and pinch Pip gently on the arm. \u201cThere. See? It\u2019s real. It is weird. . . . I mean, it feels like\u2014\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201c\u2014like home? For me, too!\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI was going to say that it feels like, I don\u2019t know, when I walked in here I almost expected to see Mom there on the bed, sitting up with a book on her lap. It\u2019s stupid.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pip launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck. \u201cIt\u2019s not stupid. Don\u2019t say that. She is here . . . kind of. This was her room when she was a little girl. And remember, she used to say she thought it was haunted. Maybe\u2014\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOUT-RAAA-GEOUS!\u201d Bedlam cries. It\u2019s his favorite word.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI agree with Beddie,\u201d I say. \u201cMom was teasing us. There\u2019s no such thing as ghosts. So, which bed do you want this year?\u201d The two beds are identical, with white-painted headboards and footboards, but every summer we came to the island, I gave Pip first choice. Most kids would probably pick one side and stick with it, but not Pip. And she always had a very specific reason for her choice. Two years ago, she picked the one on the right because she insisted that it was better for viewing the moon.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She spins, twisting her lips as she considers this Very Important Decision. She raises an index finger slowly, moving back and forth between the two before stopping at the bed on the left. \u201cThat one.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re sure.\u201d I look up to admire the mobile that the wind from the open doors has set in motion. Not surprisingly, it\u2019s made up of eight different species of birds, all with wings extended as if they\u2019re flying.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cUmmm . . . yes. Positively. My Misty poster is going right here next to me. And I can keep my books on the table.\u201d Pip has all of Marguerite Henry\u2019s Misty of Chincoteague books, and has read each one at least a hundred times. When I suggested that perhaps she didn\u2019t need to bring them all with her\u2014after all, we\u2019re just staying for the summer, I said\u2014she looked at me as if I\u2019d grown a second head.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGirls!\u201d shouts Thomas from the front yard. \u201cCome on down!\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pip waves at him from the balcony. \u201cCan we stay here forever?\u201d \u201cHow about we have some lunch and talk about that later,\u201d answers Thomas. When we come out the sliding glass door at the front of the house, he is sitting on a plaid blanket in the front yard, unpacking a cooler packed with sandwiches and cans of soda. \u201cTurkey on the left, ham on the right. Everyone grab and go. Lark, will you open that bag of chips, please?\u201d \u201cWhat kind of soda is there?\u201d asks Jack, excited because he usually isn\u2019t allowed to drink it.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAny flavor you like . . . as long as it\u2019s orange,\u201d says Thomas. \u201cIf you don\u2019t like it, blame Nate\u2014he picked it out yesterday. By the way, people out here don\u2019t call it soda. It\u2019s pop.\u201d The way he says it sounds like paaap.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Jack looks at him as if he thinks his leg is being pulled. \u201cYou\u2019re teasing.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thomas holds up a hand. \u201cAsk Lark.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When Jack looks to me for confirmation, I nod. \u201cHe\u2019s right, Jack. You don\u2019t remember, \u2019cause you were so little the last time you were here. Wait till you meet some of the local kids. They all have a funny accent.\u201d I choose a turkey sandwich and sit on the low brick wall at the front edge of the property. The Roost sits high up on a rocky point of land above the lake, and directly below me, small waves break on a narrow beach that is strewn with driftwood and seaweed.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Jack joins me on the wall and holds out his hands. \u201cKate used to hold on to me so I could look out over the edge.\u201d I set my sandwich down and grip his wrists tightly. \u201cYou okay? I can\u2019t believe Mom let you do this when you were six years old.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s not that scary,\u201d said Jack. \u201cDad! Can I go down to the beach?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNot now,\u201d says Thomas. \u201cYou\u2019ll have plenty of time for that later. We have lots to do today. We need to unpack, and make beds, and figure out what we\u2019re going to eat. I\u2019ll ride into town for a little shopping, assuming that the bikes are still in the barn. And the tire pump. Volunteers to join me?\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll go!\u201d Jack says.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI appreciate the offer, Jack, but it\u2019s a long ride,\u201d Thomas says. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you stick around and explore the house? Blake, how about it?\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Blake mumbles, \u201cAll right, I\u2019ll go,\u201d through a mouthful of sandwich.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGreat. Thank you,\u201d says Thomas. \u201cYou can pick what you want for dinner.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGee, I wonder what that will be,\u201d I say, knowing full well that it\u2019s going to be chicken of some kind. Blake would eat chicken every meal of every day if he could. I swear the kid\u2019s growing feathers.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhose house is that?\u201d Jack asks, pointing to the beautiful\u2014 and enormous\u2014Victorian cottage half a mile north, perched on a rocky cliff much higher than the one we\u2019re standing on. \u201cIt\u2019s like a mansion.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSome sea captain,\u201d I say. \u201cIt\u2019s a museum now.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNot just any sea captain,\u201d says an unfamiliar voice. \u201cCaptain Edward Cheever.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We all spin around to find a man in starched khaki pants and a matching safari shirt with its short sleeves rolled right to his shoulders, the better to show off his impressive biceps and tattoos on both forearms. His steel-gray hair is cropped short and perfectly flat on top, as if it were done with a lawn mower\u2014and he looks hard-boiled enough that it just might have been. I have a vague memory of seeing him before. It must have been three or four summers back, before Mom and Thomas got married, when he stopped by the house after a bad storm to see if we were okay. Just like that time, he seems to have just appeared out of thin air\u2014none of us saw him coming and then there he is, standing three feet away. The only thing missing is the puff of smoke.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSorry, didn\u2019t mean to scare you,\u201d he says in response to our blank stares and open mouths. He approaches Thomas and as they shake hands, Thomas winces a little. \u201cDon\u2019t know if you remember me. Les Findlay. Live down the road a bit. Saw you pass by and thought I\u2019d stop and say hi.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cRight. Les. I\u2019m Thomas. Emmery. Sure, I remember you. Good to see you again. Been a couple of years.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMiss Pritchard told me you were coming. Told me about Kate. A real shame. My condolences. Always liked her. Anyway, Miss Pritchard asked me to get everything ready for you. Said you were planning to spend the summer.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cShe was Mommy\u2019s best friend when they were kids,\u201d Pip says. \u201cShe\u2019s at a horse show\u2014that\u2019s why she didn\u2019t meet us at the ferry.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cComing back on the last boat tonight, I believe,\u201d says Les. With a nod at the folded copy of the Citizen on the blanket, he adds, \u201cI see you\u2019re catching up on all the local news. That\u2019s quite a story Miss Pritchard spins.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I lift the paper and point to the picture of the destroyed boat. \u201cThe man who got killed\u2014was he related to Nadine? She doesn\u2019t say, but he has the same last name.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSure is\u2014was. Albert Pritchard was her grandfather.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thomas looks over my shoulder at the front page of the paper. \u201cWow. That must have been some crash.\u201d Findlay points to the house we\u2019d been looking at when he mysteriously appeared. \u201cLook to the left of the museum, couple of hundred yards. See that buoy? That\u2019s where the wreck happened. Ada\u2019s Reef, it\u2019s called. Named after Captain Cheever\u2019s daughter. Or maybe his daughter was named after it\u2014I forget. Nasty rocks a few inches below the surface. Pritchard\u2019s boat was fast, a double-cockpit Hacker, nineteen forty. He was probably going fifty when he hit \u2019em.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Sunlight is sparkling on the water, and I squint for a better look at the buoy. \u201cThe buoy has a light on it, right?\u201d I say. \u201cA red one.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s right. Flashes every second.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I let that sink in. \u201cWas it\u2014the light\u2014there when the crash happened?\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Findlay nods, and the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. \u201cI see where you\u2019re going. Folks\u2019ve been asking that question since the night of the crash: What was he doing on the wrong side of that buoy on a calm night? He knew the waters around the island like the back of his hand. Don\u2019t make sense.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI guess that\u2019s why it\u2019s still selling newspapers,\u201d says Thomas. \u201cPeople love a good mystery. Lark here is really good at solving them.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As Les Findlay talks, Jack zeroes in on his tattoos and follows every movement of those muscular forearms. Eventually, he works up the courage to ask, \u201cWere you in the navy or something? Is that why you have a tattoo of a ship?\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Findlay holds out his right arm for all of us to see. \u201cIt\u2019s not a ship. It\u2019s a PBR\u2014a kind of patrol boat. I took one up the Mekong River in Vietnam back in sixty-seven, sixty-eight. Funny thing is, when I left there, I swore I\u2019d never set foot on another boat. Said I was gonna move to Montana, as far from the water as I could find. But here I am living on an island and runnin\u2019 a work boat\u2014even kinda looks like the PBR. Only difference, most days nobody\u2019s shooting at me. I work down the marina, sorta semi-retired now. Life\u2019s funny, I guess.\u201d He pauses, looking as if he has something to add, but gives up with a shake of his head. \u201cI\u2019ll leave you folks to your lunch now. You need anything, you know where to find me.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Actually, I\u2019m thinking, We don\u2019t\u2014\u201cdown the road a bit\u201d isn\u2019t exactly precise now, is it?&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Findlay tips an imaginary cap and disappears into the brush as quickly and as silently as he\u2019d appeared.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMost days?\u201d I say when he\u2019s out of sight.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Thomas asks.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat he said. Most days nobody\u2019s shooting at him. So, like, some days they are?\u201d Maybe Swallowtail Island isn\u2019t as peaceful as it seems.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"850\" height=\"50\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-17150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png 850w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-300x18.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-768x45.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 850px) 100vw, 850px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"200\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/All-About-the-Author-February-2022.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-16641\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/All-About-the-Author-February-2022.png 1024w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/All-About-the-Author-February-2022-300x59.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/All-About-the-Author-February-2022-768x150.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n<div class=\"ubb-about-author\"><h3>About Michael D. Beil<\/h3><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/michael-d-beil-350x350.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"alignleft ubb-about-author-photo\"><p>In a time not long after the fifth extinction event, Edgar Award-nominated author Michael D. Beil came of age on the shores of Pymatuning Lake, where the ducks walk on the fish. (Look it up. Seriously.) He is the author of the Red Blazer Girls series, Summer at Forsaken Lake, Lantern Sam and the Blue Streak Bandits, and Agents of the Glass: A New Recruit. For reasons that can't be disclosed until September 28, 2041, he now lives somewhere in Portugal with his wife and their two white cats, Bruno and Maisie. He still gets carsick if he has to ride in the back seat for long and feels a little guilty that he doesn't keep a journal. For more on the author and his books, visit him online at www.michaeldbeil.com.<\/p>\n<p class=\"ubb-author-links\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.michaeldbeil.com\/\" target=\"_blank\" class=\"\">Website<\/a> | <a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/MichaelDBeil\/\" target=\"_blank\" class=\"\">Facebook<\/a> | <a href=\"https:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/author\/show\/1908142.Michael_D_Beil\" target=\"_blank\" class=\"\">Goodreads<\/a> | <a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3fUwR6L\" target=\"_blank\" class=\"\">Amazon<\/a><\/p><\/div>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"850\" height=\"50\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-17150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png 850w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-300x18.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-768x45.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 850px) 100vw, 850px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"200\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Follow-the-Blog-Tour-February-2022.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-16639\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Follow-the-Blog-Tour-February-2022.png 1024w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Follow-the-Blog-Tour-February-2022-300x59.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Follow-the-Blog-Tour-February-2022-768x150.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-heading\" id=\"week-one\"><strong>Week One<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-table\"><table><tbody><tr><td>2\/7\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/pickagoodbook.com\/\">Pick A Good Book<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/7\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/thereadingwordsmith.blogspot.com\/\">The Reading Wordsmith<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/8\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/www.yabookscentral.com\/\">YABooksCentral<\/a><\/td><td>Excerpt<\/td><\/tr><tr><td><strong>2\/8\/2022<\/strong><\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/kaitgoodwin.com\/books\"><strong>Kait Plus Books<\/strong><\/a><\/td><td><strong>Excerpt<\/strong><\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/9\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/nonbinaryknight-reads.blogspot.com\/\">Nonbinary Knight Reads<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/9\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/www.girlsinwhitedresses.wordpress.com\/\">Girls in White Dresses<\/a><\/td><td>Review<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/10\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/littleredreads.com\/\">Little Red Reads<\/a><\/td><td>Review<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/10\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/jypsylynn\">@jypsylynn&nbsp;<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/11\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/www.eyerollingdemigod.com\/\">Eye-Rolling Demigod&#8217;s Book Blog<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/11\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/thebookwyrmsden.com\/\">The Bookwyrm&#8217;s Den<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-heading\" id=\"week-two\"><strong>Week Two<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-table\"><table><tbody><tr><td>2\/14\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/rajivsreviews.com\/\">Rajiv&#8217;s Reviews<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/14\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/www.onemoreexclamation.com\/\">OneMoreExclamation<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/15\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/www.nerdophiles.com\/\">Nerdophiles&nbsp;<\/a><\/td><td>Review<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/15\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/coffeesipsandreads\/\">@coffeesipsandreads<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/16\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/themommaspot.home.blog\/\">The Momma Spot<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/16\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/www.bookhoundsya.net\/\">BookHounds YA&nbsp;<\/a><\/td><td>Review<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/17\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/blessedmommysc.blogspot.com\/\">Lifestyle of Me<\/a><\/td><td>Review<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/17\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/enjoyingbooksagain\/\">@enjoyingbooksagain<\/a><\/td><td>Review\/IG Post<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/18\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/am2cents.blogspot.com\/\">Two Points of Interest<\/a><\/td><td>Review<\/td><\/tr><tr><td>2\/18\/2022<\/td><td><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amybooksy.blogspot.com\/\">Locks, Hooks and Books<\/a><\/td><td>Review<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"850\" height=\"50\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-17150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png 850w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-300x18.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-768x45.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 850px) 100vw, 850px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"200\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Enter-the-Giveaway-February-2022.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-16640\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Enter-the-Giveaway-February-2022.png 1024w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Enter-the-Giveaway-February-2022-300x59.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Enter-the-Giveaway-February-2022-768x150.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\"><a rel=\"noreferrer noopener\" href=\"http:\/\/www.rafflecopter.com\/rafl\/display\/e2389ba21396\/\" data-type=\"URL\" target=\"_blank\">Enter here to win a print copy of&nbsp;<em>The Swallowtail Legacy: Wreck at Ada&#8217;s Reef<\/em> by Michael D. Beil!<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\"><strong>(US Only)<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"850\" height=\"50\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-17150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider.png 850w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-300x18.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/0march-2022-divider-768x45.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 850px) 100vw, 850px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"200\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Questions-and-Answers-February-2022.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-16636\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Questions-and-Answers-February-2022.png 1024w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Questions-and-Answers-February-2022-300x59.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Questions-and-Answers-February-2022-768x150.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p>What do you think about <em>The Swallowtail Legacy: Wreck at Ada&#8217;s Reef<\/em>? Have you added it&nbsp;to your tbr yet?&nbsp;Let me know in the comments and have a splendiferous day!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"512\" src=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Kait-Plus-Books-Signature-February-2022-1024x512.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-16634\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Kait-Plus-Books-Signature-February-2022-1024x512.png 1024w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Kait-Plus-Books-Signature-February-2022-300x150.png 300w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Kait-Plus-Books-Signature-February-2022-768x384.png 768w, https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Kait-Plus-Books-Signature-February-2022.png 1200w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/figure><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Happy Monday and welcome to my stop on the blog tour for THE SWALLOWTAIL LEGACY: WRECK AT ADA&#8217;S REEF by Michael D. Beil! I\u2019m so excited to share an excerpt of the book with you today, AND more information about the author and tour, PLUS you can enter the giveaway to win a print copy!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":16668,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[484,1001,27],"tags":[537,651,3828,540,462,3867,538,3865,3866],"reading-challenges":[],"class_list":["post-16667","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-book-tours","category-excerpt","category-giveaways","tag-blog-tour","tag-excerpt","tag-february-2022","tag-giveaway","tag-kait-plus-books","tag-michael-d-beil","tag-rockstar-book-tours","tag-the-swallowtail-legacy","tag-wreck-at-adas-reef","book-author-michael-d-beil","book-publisher-pixelink","book-genre-contemporary","book-genre-middle-grade","book-genre-mystery"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/Wreck-at-Adas-Reef-Featured-Image.png","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16667","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16667"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16667\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16674,"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16667\/revisions\/16674"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16668"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16667"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16667"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16667"},{"taxonomy":"reading-challenges","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kaitgoodwin.com\/books\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/reading-challenges?post=16667"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}