Genre Fiction
![Megan Miranda - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B005NE2K7E.jpg)
The Last House Guest
**A Reese Witherspoon x Hello Sunshine Book Club Pick and New York Times bestseller**
A year after a summer guest dies under suspicious circumstances, her best friend lives under a cloud of grief and suspicion in this "fast-paced and gripping" (People) thriller filled with "dizzying plot twists and multiple surprise endings" (The New York Times Book Review).
Littleport, Maine, has always felt like two separate towns: an ideal vacation enclave for the wealthy, whose summer homes line the coastline; and a simple harbor community for the year-round residents whose livelihoods rely on service to the visitors.
Typically, fierce friendships never develop between a local and a summer girl-but that's just what happens with visitor Sadie Loman and Littleport resident Avery Greer. Each summer for almost a decade, the girls are inseparable-until Sadie is found dead. While the police rule the death a suicide, Avery can't help but feel there are those in the community, including a local detective and Sadie's brother, Parker, who blame her. Someone knows more than they're saying, and Avery is intent on clearing her name, before the facts get twisted against her.
"A riveting read…from master of suspense, Megan Miranda," (Mary Kubica, New York Times bestselling author of The Good Girl) The Last House Guest is a clever, twisty mystery that brilliantly explores the elusive nature of memory and the complexities of female friendships.
A year after a summer guest dies under suspicious circumstances, her best friend lives under a cloud of grief and suspicion in this "fast-paced and gripping" (People) thriller filled with "dizzying plot twists and multiple surprise endings" (The New York Times Book Review).
Littleport, Maine, has always felt like two separate towns: an ideal vacation enclave for the wealthy, whose summer homes line the coastline; and a simple harbor community for the year-round residents whose livelihoods rely on service to the visitors.
Typically, fierce friendships never develop between a local and a summer girl-but that's just what happens with visitor Sadie Loman and Littleport resident Avery Greer. Each summer for almost a decade, the girls are inseparable-until Sadie is found dead. While the police rule the death a suicide, Avery can't help but feel there are those in the community, including a local detective and Sadie's brother, Parker, who blame her. Someone knows more than they're saying, and Avery is intent on clearing her name, before the facts get twisted against her.
"A riveting read…from master of suspense, Megan Miranda," (Mary Kubica, New York Times bestselling author of The Good Girl) The Last House Guest is a clever, twisty mystery that brilliantly explores the elusive nature of memory and the complexities of female friendships.
Editorial Reviews
PRAISE FOR THE LAST HOUSE GUEST BY MEGAN MIRANDA
"If you want to sample the black humor of summer resort relationships, have breakfast at the local diner of a pretty coastal town like Littleport, Me., the setting for Megan Miranda's The Last House Guest. Dizzying plot twists and multiple surprise endings are this author's stock in trade, but she warms them up by establishing the close friendship between Sadie Loman...and Avery Greer...And, oh boy, does she ever know how to write a twisty-turny ending (or two, or more)."-MARILYN STASIO, New York Times Book Review
"Once again, Megan Miranda has crafted the perfect summer thriller. The Last House Guest is twisty and tense, with a pace that made my heart race. An edge-of-your-seat, up-all-night read."-RILEY SAGER, New York Times bestselling author of The Last Time I Lied
"No one can be trusted in the latest chilling thriller from master of suspense, Megan Miranda. The Last House Guest is a lightning-fast mystery, full of menace and unexpected twists and turns that will have readers on the edge of their seats. A riveting read!"-MARY KUBICA, New York Times bestselling author of The Good Girl
"This searing small-town thriller from bestseller Miranda (The Perfect Stranger) explores the complexities of female friendship and the picturesque fictions that money can buy...Sharply drawn characters both ground and elevate the bombshell-laden plot, while evocative prose heightens tension and conjures place. Miranda delivers a clever, stylish mystery that will seize readers like a riptide."-PUBLISHERS WEEKLY (starred review)
"The narrative, which flips between 2017 and 2018, grows increasingly tense as Avery, who is a surprisingly reliable narrator, gets closer to the truth...Most compelling are the class tensions between Littleport's year-round residents and the seasonal, moneyed tourists as well as the el...
"If you want to sample the black humor of summer resort relationships, have breakfast at the local diner of a pretty coastal town like Littleport, Me., the setting for Megan Miranda's The Last House Guest. Dizzying plot twists and multiple surprise endings are this author's stock in trade, but she warms them up by establishing the close friendship between Sadie Loman...and Avery Greer...And, oh boy, does she ever know how to write a twisty-turny ending (or two, or more)."-MARILYN STASIO, New York Times Book Review
"Once again, Megan Miranda has crafted the perfect summer thriller. The Last House Guest is twisty and tense, with a pace that made my heart race. An edge-of-your-seat, up-all-night read."-RILEY SAGER, New York Times bestselling author of The Last Time I Lied
"No one can be trusted in the latest chilling thriller from master of suspense, Megan Miranda. The Last House Guest is a lightning-fast mystery, full of menace and unexpected twists and turns that will have readers on the edge of their seats. A riveting read!"-MARY KUBICA, New York Times bestselling author of The Good Girl
"This searing small-town thriller from bestseller Miranda (The Perfect Stranger) explores the complexities of female friendship and the picturesque fictions that money can buy...Sharply drawn characters both ground and elevate the bombshell-laden plot, while evocative prose heightens tension and conjures place. Miranda delivers a clever, stylish mystery that will seize readers like a riptide."-PUBLISHERS WEEKLY (starred review)
"The narrative, which flips between 2017 and 2018, grows increasingly tense as Avery, who is a surprisingly reliable narrator, gets closer to the truth...Most compelling are the class tensions between Littleport's year-round residents and the seasonal, moneyed tourists as well as the el...
Readers Top Reviews
Zoe Woodend
I must admit , what attracted me firstly was the cover (I know don't judge a book by the cover!!) and I expect this is a good selling point as it stands out with the bright colours. The book is set in maine which was another selling point for me as I love books set in American communities and focuses on the two main characters of Avery & Sadie who are from very different backgrounds within the community. the story jumps from the present day and one year earlier which was confusing at first but as I kept reading I found I got used to this. It did however take a while to get going and wasn't the page turner I had hoped it would be . It reminded me a bit of Pretty Little Liars meets Murder she wrote! It will make a good holiday read but I felt that it had so much more potential.
Mr. D. L. ReesJ.
Littleport, Maine - coastal resort where the wealthy Loman family reigns supreme - income boosted still further by their holiday lets. But what happened at 2017's end-of-season party when daughter Sadie died? An accident? Suicide? Or circumstances more sinister? Detective Ben Collins then made many uncomfortable with his persistent questioning. He will do so again now, a year later, when a service is dedicated to Sadie's memory.... Avery Greer narrates, she responsible for the upkeep of the chalets - and high on the list of suspects because of a decidedly dodgy past. She and Sadie had once been birds of a feather, a law unto themselves. If only Avery could remember more clearly the sequence of events at that party! Meanwhile she has other things on her mind - not least signs of intrusion when chalets left empty. All the way through the telling alternates between now and then. An intriguing start and a dramatic climax. Sadly, in between, too much is off-putting. Where are characters with substance? They seem such a shallow lot, it hard to care what happens to them. Arguably fisherman Connor seems the most likeable, but in murder mysteries the villain is so often the one least suspected. Some may feel the novel outstays its welcome. Admittedly the climax is worth waiting for, but firmer editing en route would immeasurably have added to its impact.
Jennifer Chichest
I read this book for work, but I got to choose it from a list of unassigned books. I chose it because, well, I'm a thriller reader. Avid to the core. I read and write in this genre. There are good and not-so-good things about The Last House Guest. I'll compact them into two lists to better explain them. The Good 1. The plot moves quickly. I did not feel like I was stuck in a total quagmire, trying in vain to get out. The chapters are short enough and digestible for readers like me who have short attention spans. And, yeah, this is how a good thriller should be paced. 2. There are some relate-able characters. Faith is a minor character who plays an important role and comes off as infinitely more likable than the narrator, Avery. Connor is also relatively likable and believable. But we do not get to see a lot of Connor or Faith, Avery's two former friends. 3. The description of the scenery is vivid enough for me to get a clear idea of what fictional Littleport is supposed to look like. These passages are some of the best parts of the novel, in my opinion. On to the Not-So-Good Things 1. Some of the language gets repetitive. I don't think I've ever seen "fulcrum" used as often in a novel. 2. The language can get lofty. Even for an adult thriller novel, it comes off as excessive. I would suggest that the author tone down some of the word choices to make the book more accessible. Some readers might also find this to be a bit pretentious. 3. What the hell is with the concluding chapter?! First off, Detective Collins' demise is not at all fulfilling. The showdown between Avery, Parker, and Collins just feels like a blip, not a climax. Then to have Avery reveal she has been investing all along, setting herself up to survive her split with the Lomans... It didn't feel right. It kind of made me dislike Avery even more. At no point in the novel did I feel sorry for her, but I had hoped that she would leave Littleport for good in the end. 4. It's not that thrilling. The format feels repetitive. Avery goes somewhere she shouldn't. Avery hears odd noise. Avery sees shadowy figure. Lather, rinse, repeat. I'm divided on how I feel about this novel. Parts of it are really good, and parts of it are just... bland. I don't know. Maybe it caters better to a younger audience. But, if it is trying to do that, the elevated lexicon gets in the way.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1
There was a storm offshore at dusk. I could see it coming in the shelf of darker clouds looming near the horizon. Feel it in the wind blowing in from the north, colder than the evening air. I hadn't heard anything in the forecast, but that meant nothing for a summer night in Littleport.
I stepped back from the bluffs, imagined Sadie standing here instead, as I often did. Her blue dress trailing behind her in the wind, her blond hair blowing across her face, her eyes drifting shut. Her toes curled on the edge, a slow shift in weight. The moment-the fulcrum on which her life balanced.
I often imagined the last thing she was writing to me, standing on the edge: There are things even you don't know.
I can't do this anymore.
Remember me.
But in the end, the silence was perfectly, tragically Sadie Loman, leaving everyone wanting more.
THE LOMANS' SPRAWLING ESTATE had once felt like home, warm and comforting-the stone base, the blue-gray clapboard siding, doors and glass panes trimmed in white, and every window lit up on summer nights, like the house was alive. Reduced now to a dark and hollow shell.
In the winter, it had been easier to pretend: handling the maintenance of the properties around town, coordinating the future bookings, overseeing the new construction. I was accustomed to the stillness of the off-season, the lingering quiet. But the summer bustle, the visitors, the way I was always on call, smile in place, voice accommodating-the house was a stark contrast. An absence you could feel; ghosts in the corner of your vision.
Now each evening I'd walk by on my way to the guest cottage and catch sight of something that made me look twice-a blur of movement. Thinking for an awful, beautiful moment: Sadie. But the only thing I ever saw in the darkened windows was my distorted reflection watching back. My own personal haunting.
IN THE DAYS AFTER Sadie's death, I remained on the outskirts, coming only when summoned, speaking only when called upon. Everything mattered, and nothing did.
I gave my stilted statement about that night to the two men who knocked on my door the next morning. The detective in charge was the same man who'd found me on the cliffs the night before. His name was Detective Collins, and every pointed question came from him. He wanted to know when I'd last seen Sadie (here in the guesthouse, around noon), whether she'd told me her plans for that night (she hadn't), how she'd been acting that day (like Sadie).
But my answers lagged unnaturally behind, as if some connection had been severed. I could hear myself from a remove as the interview was happening.
You, Luciana, and Parker each arrived at the party separately. How did that go again?
I was there first. Luciana arrived next. Parker arrived last.
Here, a pause. And Connor Harlow? We heard he was at the party.
A nod. A gap. Connor was there, too.
I told them about the message, showed them my phone, promised she'd been writing to me when all of us were already at the party together. How many drinks had you had by then? Detective Collins had asked. And I'd said two, meaning three.
He tore a sheet of lined paper off his notepad, wrote out a list of our names, asked me to fill in the arrival times as well as I could. I estimated Luce's arrival based on the time I'd called Sadie and Parker's on the time I'd sent the text, asking where she was.
Avery Greer-6:40 p.m.
Luciana Suarez-8 p.m.
Parker Loman-8:30 p.m.
Connor Harlow-?
I hadn't seen Connor come in, and I'd frowned at the page. Connor got there before Parker. I'm not sure when, I'd said.
Detective Collins had twisted the paper back his way, eyes skimming the list. That's a big gap between you and the next person.
I told him I was setting up. Told him the first-timers always came early.
The investigation that followed was tight and ...
There was a storm offshore at dusk. I could see it coming in the shelf of darker clouds looming near the horizon. Feel it in the wind blowing in from the north, colder than the evening air. I hadn't heard anything in the forecast, but that meant nothing for a summer night in Littleport.
I stepped back from the bluffs, imagined Sadie standing here instead, as I often did. Her blue dress trailing behind her in the wind, her blond hair blowing across her face, her eyes drifting shut. Her toes curled on the edge, a slow shift in weight. The moment-the fulcrum on which her life balanced.
I often imagined the last thing she was writing to me, standing on the edge: There are things even you don't know.
I can't do this anymore.
Remember me.
But in the end, the silence was perfectly, tragically Sadie Loman, leaving everyone wanting more.
THE LOMANS' SPRAWLING ESTATE had once felt like home, warm and comforting-the stone base, the blue-gray clapboard siding, doors and glass panes trimmed in white, and every window lit up on summer nights, like the house was alive. Reduced now to a dark and hollow shell.
In the winter, it had been easier to pretend: handling the maintenance of the properties around town, coordinating the future bookings, overseeing the new construction. I was accustomed to the stillness of the off-season, the lingering quiet. But the summer bustle, the visitors, the way I was always on call, smile in place, voice accommodating-the house was a stark contrast. An absence you could feel; ghosts in the corner of your vision.
Now each evening I'd walk by on my way to the guest cottage and catch sight of something that made me look twice-a blur of movement. Thinking for an awful, beautiful moment: Sadie. But the only thing I ever saw in the darkened windows was my distorted reflection watching back. My own personal haunting.
IN THE DAYS AFTER Sadie's death, I remained on the outskirts, coming only when summoned, speaking only when called upon. Everything mattered, and nothing did.
I gave my stilted statement about that night to the two men who knocked on my door the next morning. The detective in charge was the same man who'd found me on the cliffs the night before. His name was Detective Collins, and every pointed question came from him. He wanted to know when I'd last seen Sadie (here in the guesthouse, around noon), whether she'd told me her plans for that night (she hadn't), how she'd been acting that day (like Sadie).
But my answers lagged unnaturally behind, as if some connection had been severed. I could hear myself from a remove as the interview was happening.
You, Luciana, and Parker each arrived at the party separately. How did that go again?
I was there first. Luciana arrived next. Parker arrived last.
Here, a pause. And Connor Harlow? We heard he was at the party.
A nod. A gap. Connor was there, too.
I told them about the message, showed them my phone, promised she'd been writing to me when all of us were already at the party together. How many drinks had you had by then? Detective Collins had asked. And I'd said two, meaning three.
He tore a sheet of lined paper off his notepad, wrote out a list of our names, asked me to fill in the arrival times as well as I could. I estimated Luce's arrival based on the time I'd called Sadie and Parker's on the time I'd sent the text, asking where she was.
Avery Greer-6:40 p.m.
Luciana Suarez-8 p.m.
Parker Loman-8:30 p.m.
Connor Harlow-?
I hadn't seen Connor come in, and I'd frowned at the page. Connor got there before Parker. I'm not sure when, I'd said.
Detective Collins had twisted the paper back his way, eyes skimming the list. That's a big gap between you and the next person.
I told him I was setting up. Told him the first-timers always came early.
The investigation that followed was tight and ...
