He called me temporary on my first day in his house—like I was luggage someone forgot to pick up.
After my parents die, I’m sent to Rosewood Drive to live with my aunt and uncle in a neighborhood that looks like it was built to hide secrets behind perfect lawns. Aunt Lisa tries to make me feel wanted. Uncle Richard keeps things polite.
But Gaten doesn’t pretend.
He makes sure I understand the this is his home, his life, his family—and I’m just the problem they’re managing until I’m old enough to be someone else’s.
I learn how to stay quiet. How to take up less space. How to survive being unwanted.
Then school notices me, and one cruel comment turns into a spectacle nobody forgets. Rumors spread. Eyes follow me. And Gaten—who’s spent years cutting me down—suddenly starts acting like I’m something he has to defend.
Or something he owns.
When I finally reach for something normal—friends, a boy who’s kind, a life that isn’t built on fear—Gaten’s control tightens. The walls feel closer. The air feels thinner.
And I start to realize the most dangerous thing about Rosewood Drive isn’t what happens outside the house.
It’s what’s waiting on the other side of my bedroom wall.
TEMPORARY is a dark, gripping psychological suspense about grief, obsession, and what it costs to belong to the wrong person.
⚠️ Content Some scenes may be distressing for sensitive readers.
The characters in this sotry are almost robotic in their reactions and dialogue. Often it seems the author has forgotten about major facts that the reader must remember, like the fact that the FMC isn't wearing a bra--but then suddenly she is when the MMC rips it off of her. The writing, similarly, feels almost crafted by a machine. Formulaic constructions are piled up one after the other unremittingly. The characters lack even the shallowest of depths, and they strain against any grounding or social context. I found myself hoping the book would end tragically--that they'd come to Mexico and be forced to return to the U.S.--just to give the novel some character and complexity. Alas, it wasn't to be. The book remained solidly on the surface to the very last . . .