Eyre House is a YA gothic contemporary that recasts Jane Eyre in a sleepy southern island town, complete with all the ghost stories.
All seventeen-year-old Evan Richardson wants out of his summer is an escape from the foster system that’s run his life. A job at Eyre House on quiet Edisto Island, SC, seems like the perfect solution. But the plantation-turned-bed-and-breakfast has a lot more to offer than freedom and employment. The island is full of ghost stories, and Eyre House seems to have more than its fair share of secret passages and things that go bump in the night. The tough part is telling what's ghost and what's story.
Ginny, whose family has owned Eyre House since before the Civil War, seems like the perfect person to help him figure it all out. She’s sexy, confident...and, as the owner's daughter, completely off limits. Except that Ginny's way more interested in distracting Evan than in ghost hunting, especially when the ghosts he’s uncovering are hers. Still, Ginny is hard to resist – and Evan's not sure he really wants to. But when he wakes in the night to the heat of his burning bed, Evan knows the ghosts must be after him. He’s also beginning to think that Ginnny might be hiding something behind those honey-gold eyes.
And unfortunately, the ghosts are growing more and more dangerous. When Ginny’s ex-boyfriend is found dead in the Eyre House pool, Evan knows he’s got two choices: figure out what’s going on, or become the next ghost to haunt Ginny Eyre.
First 150 Words:
I swore under my breath for about the millionth time since leaving Charleston. The blasting staccato of rain against my helmet didn’t quite drown out the deep rumble of my bike’s engine. Lightning highlighted the rural road ahead of me, and the marshes that surrounded it. It was hard to believe it wasn’t even six yet. The clouds rolling up the coast were dark as hell. Even with the right gear, I was cold, wet, and tired.
I had wanted to leave early, make Eyre House by midafternoon. The Gages had never hidden how little they cared about me, but they sure as hell had done their best to keep me from leaving today. They’d delayed me until just before the storm hit, leaving me to make what should have been an hour’s ride in torrential rain.
Personally, I suspected the loss of my foster payment was to blame. Fucking assholes.