Natalie Walters has been a military wife for 22 years and comes from a family with members who have served in either the military or law enforcement. She now utilizes her expansive knowledge to create a fully formed, emotionally rich look at the cost of service and secrets. In Living Lies, book one in the Harbored Secrets series, Walters’s fresh new voice pulls readers into an edge-of-your-seat plot with more than a few surprises.

After the death of her husband, Lane Kent returned home to Walton, Georgia, with her young son—and a secret. Dangerously depressed, Lane is looking for hope but instead finds the body of a murdered teenage girl.

Lane’s life becomes unexpectedly intertwined with Deputy Charlie Lynch to uncover the truth behind the murder. But when the truth hits too close to home, she’ll have to decide if saving the life of another is worth the cost of revealing her darkest secret.

Living Lies adeptly weaves a riveting story with a tantalizing mix of complex characters whose chemistry and snappy dialogue are sure to have readers coming back for more.

Summer Memories

Summers were never complete without gatherings at my grandparent’s home. My father is the youngest of six children. I am one of fifteen grandchildren. We come from a German/Hispanic family where food is nearly as important as family…nearly.

There was really only one rule: No one was allowed inside unless you had to use the restroom or were crying and then it had better be a life or death situation. Of course, that didn’t stop us from triple dog daring each other to sneak into the house only to be chased out of the kitchen by my grandma—I’m fairly certain she actually did have eyes in the back of her head.

Something magical happened in my grandparent’s backyard. We never ran out of things to do. I remember there was a croquet set, three or four old metal toy trucks that had once belonged to my dad and his brothers, an old tricycle with a flat wheel, and a frisbee or ball. Nothing like what fills backyards these days but it was enough to keep the fifteen of us occupied for hours. When we became bored we’d pull out a piece of cardboard and take turns break dancing to the cheers and laughter (mostly laughter) of our parents, or see how high we could stack ourselves into a pyramid before tumbling into the grass, or we’d invent new versions of tag, running around until our cheeks were flushed and the hot, desert day cooled, turning the sky into the prettiest shades of pink, peach, and lavender. 

Mealtime was probably the only thing that slowed any of us down. Long tables would be covered in a variety of food choices but always included fresh green chile (not chili, which is completely different) that would be added to everything. Even ice cream. The best part of the family gathering was always the fresh, hand-churned ice cream, which my grandpa required all grandchildren to participate in if they wanted to eat it. Each of us would be required to hold down the top as my grandpa rotated the crank over and over until the ingredients magically turned into the best ice cream ever made.

My grandparents have passed but their love for family, summer gatherings, and homemade ice cream will live on in my heart forever and it’s a blessing I hope to pass down to my own kids and grandkids.

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