An intense high-stakes story about five friends and the deadly secret that could send their lives up in flames, perfect for fans of Karen McManus and E. Lockhart. “ Five fiery stars for this bingeable , edge-of-your-seat , twisty thriller.”—NATASHA PRESTON, New York Times bestselling author of The Lake In Gap Mountain, California, everyone knows about fire season. And no one is more vigilant than 18-year-old Hannah Warner, the sheriff's daughter and aspiring FBI agent. That is until this summer. When Hannah and her best friends accidentally spark an enormous and deadly wildfire, their instinct is to lie to the police and the fire investigators. But as the blaze roars through their rural town and towards Yosemite National Park, Hannah's friends begin to crack and she finds herself going to extreme lengths to protect their secret. Because sometimes good people do bad things. And if there’s one thing people hate, it’s liars. Praise for Lies Like Wildfire : “ Five fiery stars for this bingeable , edge-of-your-seat , twisty thriller.”—NATASHA PRESTON, New York Times bestselling author of The Lake “ Twisty and fast-paced and visceral . I couldn’t put this one down.” —KATIE COTUGNO, New York Times bestselling author of 99 Days "Using her own experience with wildfire, the author tells a gripping tale about the line between loyalty to the people in your life and the value of telling the truth ."— Entertainment Weekly “An intense high-stakes story.”— The Nerd Daily " Gripping, fast-paced, and addictive , the novel explores what happens when good people do bad things."— Brightly "This tense tale focuses on five friends with a dangerous secret ." — The Boston Globe "A twisty , fast-paced thriller about accountability, guilt, jealousy, and survival."— Kirkus "Consider this a must-have thriller." — SLJ Jennifer Lynn Alvarez is the author of two middle grade fantasy series,The Guardian Herd and Riders of the Realm, and she holds a degree in English from UC Berkeley. She lives in Sonoma County, California and consulted with the Sonoma County Fire District Deputy Chief and a detective at the San Francisco District Attorney's office in relation to this novel. You can follow her on Instagram @jennifer_lynn_alvarez or Twitter @Jenniferdiaries. Visit her online at jenniferlynnalvarez.com. 1 August 11 Time: 11:10 a.m. I’m not dressed to find a body. I’m wearing cutoffs and a thin white tank top. The mosquitoes are going to suck me dry, and my new Vans are going to get trashed. I’m dressed for summer, not for crawling around in the woods, searching for one of my best friends with a bunch of overcaffeinated volunteers. I hope we don’t find her. I want Violet to be alive. We just graduated high school, and we’re going to college soon. Getting kidnapped or murdered or committing suicide, or whatever happened to her, was not scheduled for today. What was scheduled was shopping for bedding and other dorm supplies. So no, I’m not dressed or prepared to find Violet Sandoval’s dead body. Besides that, I believe she was murdered, and I’d like to let that sleeping dog lie. Why? Well, why would anyone want a dead girl to stay missing? Because they don’t like her? Maybe (but not in this case). Because they want a shot at her boyfriend? Perhaps. Or because they helped kill her? Now that’s a reason. I just got out of the hospital, and I don’t know what happened to Violet and I don’t want to know. Only one thing is certain: it all began with a flame. 2 July 7 Time: 12:15 p.m. Five weeks earlier . . . As I reach into my Jeep, I hear quick footsteps and feel the back of my bikini top snap against my skin. I whip around to see the gleeful face of Nathaniel James Drummer, my main best friend out of my four best friends, smiling at me from my driveway. I aim a kick at him. “What are you, twelve?” He dances out of my striking range, cloaked as usual in faded jeans and a too-tight T-shirt. Grizzled, spiny trees surround us, rearing toward the sky, and a hot summer wind gusts off the Sierra Nevada mountains. “What’s in the bag?” he asks. “And you better not say homework.” “It’s summer, idiot.” I snatch my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. I did make the long drive to the library to check out books on criminology, nothing wrong with getting a head start, but it isn’t technically homework—not until I leave for college. Drummer eyeballs the heavy pack, and his smile deflates. “Come on, Han, don’t waste the time we have left reading.” I laugh. “That’s exactly why I’m going to college and you’re not.” But when I meet his gaze, my stomach lightens. Drummer has no idea I fell in love with him in the sixth grade. It happened fast, like sliding off a cliff. One moment he was my sharp-kneed, slightly smelly best friend, and the next he was golden-skinned and handsome and a million miles out of my league. I cross my arms so he can’t see the gigantic Drum