Annie Hawkins Green is without a doubt currently my favorite badass woman. She is smart, strong, gutsy, and kind, but at the same time flawed, with emotions (and lingering PTSD) that cause some of her decisions to take her into situations that range from mildly upsetting to life-threateningly dangerous. . . . Sacken’s prose is brilliant.”
Jeannée Sacken has done it again. A well-researched story and intriguing suspense that grips you till the end.”
Captivating, fast-paced, and unsettling, Double Exposure is a story of strength, love, perseverance, and resilience. Chock-full of raw emotion and visceral pain, it made me weep then rage at the plight of females in Afghanistan.”
With smart narration, nuanced characters, and thought-provoking situations reminiscent of Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns, Sacken brilliantly explores the story of Annie Hawkins, a photojournalist torn between the needs of her teenage daughter back home and her own deep-seated desire to change the lives of the women in a small Afghan village.”
Double Exposure thrusts the reader into full-out romantic suspense. Not only is the tension high and the immersion visceral, but the romance is deeply emotional (I fell hard for Cerelli).”
A superbly crafted and thrilling sequel with enough twists and turns to keep you riveted right up to the tension-filled finale. Jeannée Sacken captures the beauty and complexity of Afghanistan through the eyes and lens of Annie Hawkins—always with a tough, yet tender touch.
This is an intense read that focuses on the inner strength of women, the power of profound friendships, the love that aids survival during the hardest moments in life, and appreciation for one another despite cultural and religious divides. . . . Hopefully, the saga of war photojournalist Annie continues beyond Double Exposure.”
September 27th, 2022
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A noise on the side of the house takes my attention away from whatever Cerelli is saying. The wind blowing through the leaves? No. This doesn't sound like wind. More like footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Running footsteps.
I've just processed the thought that no one except me should be back here when the cold barrel of a gun presses against the side of my head just above my ear. I'm still holding the phone when someone else grabs my wrist and wrenches it behind me. I groan in pain.
Someone takes my cell.
"Cerelli--" But instead of an answer, I hear the quiet ping of my cell being turned off.
A thick cloth with the faint odor of gasoline is forced into my mouth. I gag on the filth and manage a few grunts.
Then a blindfold wraps tight around my head. Too tight.
I throw my elbows. But don't connect with anyone.
I kick. And find only air.