Not What She Seems: A Novel by Yasmin Angoe
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Not What She Seems: A Novel

by

Yasmin Angoe

(Author)

4

-

3,659 ratings


She left home as the local pariah at twenty-two, but when a family tragedy brings her back, she must confront her tortured past―and a new danger in town that no one seems to understand but her.

After years of self-exile, Jacinda “Jac” Brodie is back in Brook Haven, South Carolina. But the small cliffside town no longer feels like home. Jac hasn’t been there since the beloved chief of police fell to his death―and all the whispers said she was to blame.

That chief was Jac’s father.

Racked with guilt, Jac left town with no plans to return. But when her granddad lands in the hospital, she rushes back to her family, bracing herself to confront the past.

Brook Haven feels different now. Wealthy newcomer Faye Arden has transformed the notorious Moor Manor into a quaint country inn. Jac’s convinced something sinister lurks beneath Faye’s perfect exterior, yet the whole town fawns over their charismatic new benefactor. And when Jac discovers one of her granddad’s prized possessions in Faye’s office, she knows she has to be right.

But as Jac continues to dig, she stumbles upon dangerous truths that hit too close to home. With not only her life but also her family’s safety on the line, Jac discovers that maybe some secrets are better left buried.

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ISBN-10

166250831X

ISBN-13

978-1662508318

Print length

395 pages

Language

English

Publisher

Thomas & Mercer

Publication date

July 31, 2024

Dimensions

5.5 x 1 x 8.5 inches

Item weight

14.4 ounces


Product details

ASIN :

B0CQ36RDG8

File size :

4125 KB

Text-to-speech :

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Screen reader :

Supported

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Editorial Reviews

Not What She Seems

“Endless skeletons in the family closet
” ―Kirkus Reviews

“Jac’s return to her hometown reveals lie after shocking lie. You’re going to want to help her dig up every dirty secret. Not What She Seems is a must-read for thriller lovers.” ―Melinda Leigh, #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author

“In a small town, secrets collide with the grief and guilt of our fierce, feisty heroine, Jac Brodie. As her world is falling apart, Jac pieces together a mystery that could change her life as she knows it. With an expertly drawn setting, pulse-pounding pacing, and an explosive climax, Not What She Seems is a magnificent read. This twisty, high-octane thriller instantly hooked me and never let go. I’m now a forever fan of Yasmin Angoe’s stunning writing.” ―Samantha M. Bailey, USA Today and #1 international bestselling author of A Friend in the Dark

“Anthony award–nominated author Yasmin Angoe is an expert at blending fast-paced action, jaw-dropping plot twists, and flawed but likable characters. Her first standalone, Not What She Seems, is a must-read for domestic suspense fans. An excellent tale of cat and mouse, or should I say spider versus fly.” ―Kellye Garrett, award-winning author of Missing White Woman

“Angoe not only creates believable characters, she crafts a layered mystery woven through with family secrets, sharp-edged revenge, and unexpected redemption. All that plus it has heart; the climactic scene brought tears to my eyes.” ―Jess Lourey, Edgar-nominated author of The Taken Ones

“Yasmin Angoe’s Not What She Seems is a powerful, electric novel that explores the deadly secrets we want to forget, and the lengths people will go to keep them buried. A story of painful homecomings and powerful reckonings, Not What She Seems builds upon Angoe’s stellar library to present readers with her best novel yet.” ―Alex Segura, bestselling author of Secret Identity and Alter Ego

“Jacinda Brodie, you have my sword. Never have I fallen deeper in love with characters than I did the Brodies of beautiful, troubled, small-town South Carolina. Yasmin Angoe’s incredible blend of talents―her ability to deliver high-intensity blowups on par with the best action thrillers and her deep character work, which shines through her uniquely voicey prose―make Not What She Seems a total knockout. I laughed, I gasped, and―shockingly―I cried. In an astonishing feat, Angoe combines a dark-as-sin psychological suspense with a heartwarming tale of familial redemption, peppered with laugh-out-loud social commentary. Like me, readers will marvel at her virtuosity while eagerly awaiting her next.” ―Ashley Winstead, critically acclaimed author of Midnight Is the Darkest Hour

It Ends with Knight

“Watch your back, Liam Neeson. This avenger is tough.” ―Kirkus Reviews

“High-stakes action, intrigue, and a professional assassin . . . the thrilling conclusion to Yasmin Angoe’s Nena Knight series has it all.” ―Woman’s World

“Nena Knight can cover Orphan X’s six o’clock any day! Stolen from her village in Ghana, Knight reinvents herself as an elite assassin capable of all orders of badassery. One of thrillerdom’s rising stars, Yasmin Angoe paints Knight with nuance, strength, and grace. These books burn hot and read fast.” ―Gregg Hurwitz, New York Times bestselling author of the Orphan X series

“It Ends with Knight finishes this trilogy every bit as heart pounding, soul searching, and explosive as it started. Nena Knight now takes her place alongside crime fiction’s most unforgettable heroines.” ―Rachel Howzell Hall, New York Times bestselling author of We Lie Here and These Toxic Things

“Yasmin Angoe returns with both barrels blazing in It Ends with Knight. Nena Knight is such a well-crafted character, and Angoe’s writing is an absolute joy. You need some pretty strong writer mojo to get readers to root for an assassin, and Angoe pulls it off. I truly hope It Ends with Knight is not the end of this wonderful series.” ―Tracy Clark, bestselling author and winner of the Sue Grafton Memorial Award

They Come at Knight

An Amazon Best Book of the Month: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense

“There’s nothing ho-hum about Nena Knight, the killer at the heart of Yasmin Angoe’s They Come at Knight
 In one blistering action scene after another, we get to see how good Nena is at what she does.” ―New York Times Book Review

“A second round of action-packed, high-casualty intrigue for professional assassin Nena Knight. A lethal tale of an all-but-superhero whose author promises that ‘in this story, there are no heroes.’” ―Kirkus Reviews

“This action-packed novel drives toward an explosive conclusion. Determined to survive devastating loss and mete out justice, Nena is a heroine readers will embrace.” ―Publishers Weekly

Her Name Is Knight

“This stunning debut
deftly balances action, interpersonal relationships, issues of trauma, and profound human questions in an unforgettable novel.” ―Library Journal (starred review)

“A parable of reclaiming personal and tribal identity by seizing power at all costs.” ―Kirkus Reviews

“Angoe expertly builds tension by shifting between her lead’s past and present lives. Thriller fans will cheer Aninyeh every step of the way.” ―Publishers Weekly

“An action-packed thriller you can lose yourself in.” ―PopSugar

“Memorable characters, drama, heart-pounding danger . . . this suspenseful novel has it all.” ―Woman’s World

“A crackerjack story with truly memorable characters. I can’t wait to see what Yasmin Angoe comes up with next.” ―David Baldacci, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Yasmin Angoe’s debut novel, Her Name Is Knight, is an amazing, action-packed international thriller full of suspense, danger, and even romance. It’s like a John Wick prequel except John is a beautiful African woman with a particular set of skills.” ―S. A. Cosby, New York Times bestselling author of Razorblade Tears

“It’s hard to believe that Her Name Is Knight is Yasmin Angoe’s debut novel. This dual-timeline story about a highly trained Miami-based assassin who learns to reclaim her power after having her entire life ripped from her as a teenager in Ghana is equal parts love story, social commentary, and action thriller. Nena Knight will stay with you long after you’ve read the last word, and this is a must-read for fans of Lee Child and S. A. Cosby. I found myself crying in one chapter and cheering in the next. I couldn’t put it down!” ―Kellye Garrett, Anthony, Agatha, and Lefty Award–winning author

“This was a book I couldn’t put down. Yasmin Angoe does a brilliant job of inviting you into a world of espionage and revenge while giving her characters depth and backstory that pull the reader in even more. This story has depth, excitement, and heartbreaking loss all intertwined into an awesome debut. The spy thriller genre has a new name to look out for!” ―Matthew Farrell, bestselling author of Don’t Ever Forget

“This brave and profoundly gorgeous thriller takes readers to places they’ve never been, to challenges they’ve never faced, and to judgments that leave the strongest in tears. Her Name Is Knight is a stunning and important debut, and Yasmin Angoe is a fantastic new talent.” ―Hank Phillippi Ryan, USA Today bestselling author of Her Perfect Life

“Her Name Is Knight is a roundhouse kick of a novel―intense, evocative, and loaded with character and international intrigue. Nena Knight is a protagonist for the ages and one readers will not soon forget. Her Name Is Knight isn’t just thrills and action either―the book lingers with you long after you’ve finished. More, please.” ―Alex Segura, acclaimed author of Star Wars Poe Dameron: Free Fall, Secret Identity, and Blackout

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Sample

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. —Unknown

PROLOGUE

Montavious Brodie Sr. clicked send on his Dell computer, the desktop over five years old that his eldest granddaughter had been begging him to let her upgrade to one of those Macs. He didn’t need something skinny, fast, and flashy. He liked his clunky, heavy computer because it had just what he needed—the World Wide Web, where he could connect to his fellow Armchair Detectives, or Armchairs for short, on the latest unsolved crime they were working to crack.

He loved solving puzzles, or being what the young ones these days called an armchair detective. He didn’t care. He had been a South Carolinian detective and investigator (depending on the agency) in his heyday before he’d retired and left the policing to his son.

Now, something new, something he’d heard when he probably shouldn’t have, had put a bee in his bonnet. Colleton. The name jiggled something in the recesses of his mind. Something from decades ago, but he couldn’t quite shake it loose. Colleton. This was an old one. He could spend his time trying to track the name down to answer the question that was beginning to light a fire in his gut. But honestly, he hated the World Wide Web. There were too many searches. Too much bullshit clouding the truth. He left that kind of work to the younger Armchairs. They found some information, and he combed through it, teasing out the clues and the obscure bits of fact that the novices tended to gloss over. It was a good work model for the group. Everyone knew their lane. People from all points of the world came together in the name of helping to bring justice for victims and closure for families.

Montavious used his two pointer fingers to peck out the letters into his group forums—where he usually went to find new cold cases—to see if someone might recognize the name. Then, satisfied his message had gone through, he logged out and picked up his weathered iPhone. It ran so slow these days because the damn Apple people didn’t send any more updates. Plus, he’d heard on the CNN that consumers were suing the company for forcing customers to upgrade to new phones by not sending updates for the old ones. Well, no damn Apple was gonna make him buy a new phone. He’d ride this one until the wheels fell off.

He looked over his half-moon-shaped readers. He only wore them to read the bright screens of his phone and computer. Maybe the newspaper, too, since the damn print seemed to be getting smaller these days.

He pulled up his recent-calls list, bypassing the first few: Chief Linwood’s office (same office his boy used to head); the post office; Mrs. Barbara Harris (Barb let him take her out a time or two), who volunteered at the hospital and worked part time at the Manor overseeing the renovations with Ms. Arden; and his youngest granddaughter, Pen. He scrolled until his slightly crooked finger landed on the name of his favorite partner in crime, the one who humored his critical, never-trusting eye. Jac, the older grand who’d lost her way, and for years, he had prayed to the man upstairs that he’d be able to get her back home. Somehow. Whatever had happened out there on the bluff, Montavious knew the truth wasn’t gonna be found in the town’s gossip . . . or even in what she believed. What had driven Jac away from home.

Maybe this time she’d pick up the call instead of replying to his voicemail messages days later. Maybe this time she missed her old granddad enough to call back, and he could hear her voice one last time before the night was up.

Probably out with her college folks, he concluded as the automated message told him his granddaughter was unavailable. As usual—though the robot lady didn’t say that part.

“Hey, JD.” His knobby fingers rubbed absentmindedly at the area where his pacemaker was situated beneath his skin.

Junior Dick. The nickname between the two of them. One his daughter-in-law, Angela, hated with a passion, which made her daughter love it even more. Her junior dick to his senior. Partners in crime. Partners in this thing called life.

“’Member how I said way back then you can never run from your past?” He hesitated. Was this really how he wanted to begin? Did he really want to piss her off before he’d even gotten his message out? “Or rather, the past comes and finds you no matter what?”

Maybe this time he’d been asking for the past to find him. He’d willed and hoped that someday the one that got away would come knocking. And they had.

“Junior, this ole man might have played his hand a little too soon. I think . . . think I screwed up real bad.” He swallowed nothing down his dry throat. “It’ll make sense when I can show you. It’s been years.” He couldn’t believe it. After all this time. To have another chance at this again. “Who would have thought?”

He was breathless, looking up to find he was facing his large whiteboard stand and staring at the word he’d just typed to the Armchairs. Colleton. It was as if the name had beckoned him to it, and he’d come running, twisting his chair around instinctively to face the past. The name had just been mentioned in passing. Probably didn’t realize it had even been said. But a reckoning came with that name, Colleton. As in, Colleton Girls. He scribbled it on his whiteboard.

He was in his cabin in the woods, away from the house, where he could get his thoughts together without the constant distracting chatter from Pen and her mom, Angela. Back at the house with them, it was easy to get caught up in Angela’s helicopter mothering and Pen’s incessant doctoring, like he was some kind of invalid. It was just a little thing with his heart.

He cleared his throat and chased away the case of jitters that had suddenly sprouted. “Call me back this time, will ya—”

The snap of brittle branches crushed beneath weight stopped him cold. He ended the call.

Out here, the woods were always alive with sounds, but he knew them all, and they soon became background noise he barely said “boo” to. This wasn’t a raccoon or a coyote, however. Not a bear (hadn’t seen one in decades) or a gator (too far from the lakes and swamps). A tree limb falling? No. Heavy enough to be a deer, though.

The old man’s heart was terrible. Eyesight wasn’t like it used to be, but he thought it was better than that of most folks his age. But his hearing was damn near perfect and could suss out a racoon digging in the trash bins or a wandering deer out there. This was not either. There was no more noise after the snap, as if the trespasser had halted, worried the old man had heard them. Well, he had. And if they were worried about being heard, then that meant they weren’t supposed to be there. He ignored the protesting creaks from his bones as he eased out of his worn, wooden swivel chair, pulling his half-moon glasses from his face before setting them upside down on the oak desk he’d built from scratch. He cocked his ear, honing his hearing and waiting for more noise so he could determine its cause.

Snap. As sharp as a crack of thunder. So loud. So deliberate.

Not an animal or falling wood. Was closer this time.

His cabin—the home he, his dearly departed Mae, and their two sons had owned for over half a century—was made up of five small rooms. Two square bedrooms on opposite ends, with the living room in the middle and their kitchen at the top of it with a tiny bathroom beside it. A small half hall to the left of the kitchen ended at a single side door. If he went out that door, he’d be deposited into the dense woods and marshes surrounding his home. His land stretched out until it bumped into the sprawling Moor property that was made up of a good portion of these woods. The Manor, the winding trails that dumped into the clearing before eventually hitting the cliffs at the back of the mansion—all of that was Moor property.

Stacks of old papers, piles of books, corkboards stuck with pushpins where Montavious had mapped the cases that he and his folks followed with the stereotypical red yarn, all cluttered his living room. No one used the yarn anymore, but he liked it just the same, a nostalgic reminder of back in the day when a cop had to pound serious pavement to figure out the connection. It wasn’t just practically at the tips of your fingers on the computer like it seemed to be these days. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe not. He hadn’t decided yet.

He thought of going to his bedroom and double-checking his hidden safe, which held two things. A case he’d die for. And a case he’d kill to solve. He’d been keeping watch on the first for nearly thirty years. It was the only case he never wanted solved.

Lord forgive him.

The half hall and the side door were where the noise came from. He moved toward them, pulling his handgun from the top bookshelf, where he kept it locked and loaded. If he was anyone else, Montavious would have given the unannounced visitor a second thought before opening the door. But this was his home, his property, his neck of the woods.

Hell, in his career, Detective Brodie had gone up against the likes of murderers, bank robbers, abusers, organized crime syndicates (yes, even in the good ole South), traffickers, and even a serial killer or two.

Not to mention that, as modern and accepting as people claimed to be now, this was still the South. He was still a Black man living in a small house, alone, deep in the woods. He was not far removed—not removed at all—from those times of his life when his advancement in the military, then in the police academy, then through the ranks to detective, then to a job as an agent at SLED, South Carolina’s State Law Enforcement Division, was hindered and nearly made nonexistent because of the color of his skin.

That kind of hell would never be forgotten, no matter how much he and his family were known and respected throughout South Carolina, especially in the Lowcountry, by both Black and white folks. He’d seen the worst of society because of skin color. He’d seen the worst of humanity because of what Cain did to Abel way back when. Murder.

He’d seen plenty of terrifying things. Yet, alone in the pitch black with nothing but the spotlights surrounding his property to stave off the night, and despite his aged body and slowed reflexes, Montavious Brodie Sr. refused to ever be scared. Despite what he’d endured in his lifetime, some clown in the woods wasn’t about to make Montavious Brodie Sr. lose his religion. Not then. Not now.

Still, his mama didn’t raise no fool, either, and the old man could never be too careful. He had his gun. When he opened the door to the warm autumn night, the leaves rustling in the wind, he saw nothing but dark. The light of the cabin shone behind him, making it harder for his eyes to adjust. He should have remembered his police training instead of assuming nothing could touch him here. He should have cut the lights in the house so he could have made out the figure coming close in the dark. Montavious should have done a lot of things differently. But he didn’t.

Recognition washed over him as his visitor approached, and his once-defensive stance with gun at the ready relaxed. Shouldn’t have done that either.

“Well now,” he said. “It’s damn late to be calling.” Surprise, annoyance, and a tiny bit of curiosity overpowered what should have been suspicion and mistrust. “Had time to think it through?”

The Taser lashed out quicker than his numbed reflexes could react. Montavious stumbled back from the impact, surprised at the force with which the contraption was shoved into his chest, right on top of the area where the pacemaker kept his rhythm in check. His gun clattered to the ground, going off in a sharp crack that rendered one ear useless. But the suddenly muted sounds didn’t faze him.

It was the electricity. The volts surging through his body over and over. Paralyzing him. Making his teeth come down hard on his tongue. His mouth flooded with the warm gush filling his throat, spilling through his bared teeth as he ground in. His hands clawed and couldn’t help to break his fall. The Taser was one thing. He’d been hit with one before, though not over and over.

It was his heart. The volts seized the muscle, making it beat faster and faster—too fast. Frighteningly fast. Until it stopped entirely.

As his body lay half in, half out of the tiny cabin where he’d lived with the love of his life (now gone), where he’d raised his two boys (both gone too), where his granddaughters had played, his last thoughts settled in his mind. This had been a happy home. He was glad to die here.

His last thoughts—before the blood from his heart stopped pumping to his brain, until the room went hot and bright and then his sight began to dim—were that now his partner in crime, his JD, would be able to find her way back home to Brook Haven. He was finally bringing her home.

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About the authors

Yasmin Angoe

Yasmin Angoe

Yasmin Angoe is the author of the critically acclaimed Her Name Is Knight, first book in the Nena Knight trilogy. She is a first-generation Ghanaian American and the recipient of the 2020 Eleanor Taylor Bland Award for Emerging Writers of Color. Her Name Is Knight came in #1 on multiple Amazon Bestseller charts and is an Editor’s Pick for Best Mystery, Thriller, & Suspense.

Yasmin is a nominee for the Anthony Awards for Best First Book and the AAMBC Awards for Debut Author of the Year. Her work has received numerous recognitions, Best Of lists, and a Library Journal Starred Review. Her book has appeared in Woman’s World Book Club, POPSUGAR, Nerd Daily, the Washington Independent Review of Books, and other platforms. Yasmin is a former educator and received a Kirkus Review calling Her Name Is Knight, “A parable of reclaiming personal and tribal identity by seizing power at all costs".

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Reviews

Customer reviews

4 out of 5

3,659 global ratings

Kindle Customer

Kindle Customer

5

Very good!

Reviewed in the United States on July 16, 2024

Verified Purchase

Really great story that keeps you on the edge of your seat. it just was so wordy! Some of it was so drawn out I got bored. But still a great and creative story!

Amazon Customer

Amazon Customer

5

Excellent!!

Reviewed in the United States on July 13, 2024

Verified Purchase

Wow!! Excellent read all around! Great story, well developed characters and wonderfully written with so many twists and turns! Please keep writing!! 😀

6 people found this helpful

Lagertha's Apprentice

Lagertha's Apprentice

5

This is Different

Reviewed in the United States on July 20, 2024

Verified Purchase

This book is somewhat different for me, a white Seattle girl. The mystery was intense, addictive, and unputdownable- it is too a word! My reviews on here are predominantly thriller based because I can’t get enough of the hook, the horror and trying to find the, “bad guy.” As with all the greats, this one definitely caught me by surprise, and I loved it! But it was different for me because it had quite a bit of Southern, “culture?” if that’s the right word? It’s fun reading about different places and the way people live elsewhere, and this one was extra interesting for me because the writer and protagonist were both black women, and honestly there’s definitely Not enough thrillers featuring and/or written by people of color (or if there are I’ve sadly missed them). The pigment tone of the author obviously has nothing to do with what makes a book good or bad, but I at least didn’t realize how much of a difference it can make in the experience of reading and character traits. But regardless of all that, the book has my favorite thing to read about - bad ass women solving crazy-twisted crimes!

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17 people found this helpful

Brent Elliott

Brent Elliott

5

Not What She Seems

Reviewed in the United States on July 25, 2024

Verified Purchase

Jacinda Brodie, Jac, is running from her past, her family, and her town in this novel that has it all. There is horror, mystery, suspense, and drama. Jac takes 6 years to go to D.C. for the university. When tragedy calls from home, she returns to the last place she wants to be, South Carolina. She finds what she expects when she visits friends and when the townspeople whisper and gossip of the "wild" Brodie who killed her Father. Jac also finds the unexpected when she meets Carl, from her long lost family, and Faye Anderson, the town's new elite & fiancé to the Mayor. In this small, sleepy town everyone has a story. Jac will find it for the love of her family, at all cost.

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Amazon Customer

Amazon Customer

5

A really great book

Reviewed in the United States on July 20, 2024

Verified Purchase

This story has wonderful, believable characters. The author has written a good, hard to put down book. The story had a lo of twists and turns through the whole book. I will be looking for more from this author.

6 people found this helpful

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