In the tradition of Jordan Peele and Tiffany Jackson’s The Weight of Blood, a YA thriller about a Black teen whose fight for survival forces a small southern vacation town to face its dark history of racial violence. When sixteen-year-old Naomi Ward and her family head to a secluded cabin in the Shenandoah Valley for summer vacation they don’t know the small, mountain town of Sparksburg, Virginia has a dark and twisted past. But when they arrive, Naomi can’t shake the feeling that something about Sparksburg just isn’t right—and it smells god awful, but for some reason Naomi is the only who can smell the town’s stench. When she learns Sparksburg had once been a Sundown Town—a town where Black people weren’t allowed after sunset lest they be murdered—Naomi’s unease starts to make sense. As Naomi digs more into Sparksburg’s violent origins, she finds herself haunted by the ghost of a girl, appearing nightly outside her window. Then she learns of two girls who’ve recently gone missing and suspects the past may still be present in Sparksburg and beneath the quaint façade of this tourist town is a palpable danger. When Naomi decides to track the disappearance of the two girls herself, she becomes suspicious of a local man who has kindled fear in Naomi more than once. She soon learns he has a connection to one of the missing girls, and Naomi is certain he’s responsible for the disappearances. When no one believes her, Naomi takes matters into her own hands. But to save the missing girls, she’ll have to finally face her own past trauma as a “missing girl” as she finds herself in a fight for survival. Gripping and triumphant, L.S. Stratton tells an important and unforgettable story of racial reckoning inspired by historical events. Praise for Sundown Girls : ★ “This well-paced debut’s immersive narrative and descriptive language support its strong characterization . Stratton effectively crafts complex family dynamics, and Naomi’s struggle to reconcile the love she feels for her kidnapper with the heinous crime is compelling. The nail-biting final act , which leads to a shocking reveal, will make readers feel as though they’re right beside Naomi, fighting for survival. A riveting, emotionally resonant thriller infused with supernatural intrigue .”— Kirkus , starred review ★ “In an eerie speculative thriller , a Black teen finds herself caught in a conspiracy while visiting a former sundown town…The novel’s strength lies in its depiction of complex relationships and their impact… Tension continually runs high throughout this illuminating and unsettling thriller that empathetically addresses topics relating to Black history and mental health stigma .”— Publishers Weekly , starred review ★ “A combination of thrills , history, mystery , and the supernatural in a story that manages to be both chilling and heartwarming… The writing style is immersive , filled with vivid imagery that sustains a mood of unease and suspense while balancing supernatural horror with contemporary issues.”— School Library Journal , starred review “Stratton’s supernatural thriller explores the darkness that lingers in sundown towns and the forgotten stories of their victims. While the mystery will draw readers in , Naomi’s transformation and acceptance of her past will tug at heartstrings .”— Booklist L.S. Stratton currently lives in Maryland with her husband, their daughter, and their tuxedo cat, where she is already musing about her next standalone YA thriller. 1 They’d sat in the dark for so long that Naomi lost track of how long it had been. It was pitch-black down here, so black that she couldn’t even see her own hand inches from her face. She couldn’t see the other girls either, though she knew they were here. The two girls that were living—and the silent girl who was always watching. Naomi could hear the others. A soft whimper. Shuffling footsteps and the clink of metal. The chanting whisper of “I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I just want to go home.” “Shut up! Shut up!” one whispered. “No one’s going anywhere. We’re never leaving. Don’t you get it?” Naomi could smell the others, too. It was an overwhelming stench that permeated the hot basement . . . or cellar . . . whatever room this was, which seemed both stiflingly claustrophobic and mind-numbingly vast. The smell was an acrid mix of armpits that had gone way too long without antiperspirant, sweat, a used, overflowed toilet, menstrual blood—and desperation. She hadn’t known before that desperation had a smell, but it radiated off her skin in invisible waves. Then suddenly there was the bang of a door opening and a shaft of light. It came from above, through floorboards. Naomi winced at its brightness and held up her hand again. This time to shield her eyes. She could finally see a little. One of the girls was a year or so younger than herself. She was partially illuminated by the tiny spotlight now. It showed her matted dark h