Book Tour

Today Kelly Gunderman and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing the cover and an exclusive content for LIVING DEAD GIRL, her YA Paranormal Thriller Book which releases November 1, 2020! Check out the awesome cover and enter the giveaway!


Author: Kelly Gunderman

Pub. Date: November 1, 2020

Publisher: Kelly Gunderman

Formats: Paperback, eBook, Audiobook

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon

Read for FREE with a Kindle Unlimited Subscription!

In this young adult thriller perfect for fans of Pretty Little Liars, Thirteen Reasons Why, and Sadie, a teenage girl is about to find out how far would she will go to get revenge on those who have taken everything from her.

When seventeen year old high school senior Kaitlyn Davis is almost raped and then brutally murdered at a party by three boys she goes to school with, she uses her dying breath to swear that they will pay for what they’ve done. When she wakes up the next morning, she is a bit blurry on the night before and gets a big surprise – she’s alive? How?

Soon, things start getting weird – it seems as though no one can see her or hear her, and no matter what she does, she can’t seem to feel anything, such as temperature. She can still move things around and touch others, and the room about suddenly drops about thirty degrees wherever she is, but why?

That’s when she is forced to accept it – she’s dead. At first Kaitlyn grieves the loss of her short life – there are so many things that she is going to miss out on, so many things that she will never get to do. But then she gets angry, and she remembers her promise to get revenge on those who had taken her life.

Setting out to give them what they deserve, Kaitlyn has no plans to stop until she gets the revenge she desires.

Chapter 1


“You can’t seriously be wearing that, Kaitlyn.”

I glance at Dana and grin.

“Why?  What’s wrong with it?” I ask her, innocently.

“It’s fucking ugly.”

I ball up the gold sequined tank top and throw it at her.  “Oh, you just want to wear it,” I tease, knowing full well she would never touch something that was covered in sequins. Or the color gold. Dana always told me how she thought gold clothing was gaudy, even though I thought the color complimented her skin tone quite well.

She rolls her eyes and picks it up like it’s an old sock, holding it between her index finger and thumb, contorting her face as though she had just smelled something rancid.  She flings the tank top on the bed and plops down next to it, smoothing out the creases that have formed in my purple comforter.

“I wish Mark was going to be there tonight,” she says, looking forlorn.

I wrinkle my nose and stare at her.  “Why?  He’s such a douche.”

“No he isn’t!”

“You’re defending him because you have a crush on him.  Even though he’s slept with half the girls in the senior class and it’s only January.  It’s disgusting.  You always have crushes on guys who only want one thing.”

Dana grimaced. Obviously I had hit a sore spot with her. She glares at me. “You’re just pissed because you never get any.”

“And you do?” I fire back, hoping I sounded as bitter as I felt.  My boyfriend, Eric, had broken up with me two months ago after we had been together for a year and a half. His reason?  I wanted sex, and he didn’t.

“Hey, at least my boyfriends put out,” she fires back.

“It’s not my fault he wasn’t ready.”

“What seventeen year old guy isn’t ready?  Especially after being together for that long?  Be realistic.”  She lies down on the bed on her back, draping her head over the side.  This position exposes her slender throat and long, beautiful neck.   She peers up at me, seductively, before smirking

    God, she is so beautiful, was the thought that echoed in my head every single time I saw her.  I bite my lip to keep my thoughts to myself. Still, that smirk playing on her lips tells me she can already read my mind without me having to say anything at all.

“I don’t know.  I guess we just weren’t right for each other,” I say to her.  It wasn’t Eric I was thinking about right now, anyway.  It wasn’t Eric I had been thinking about the entire time he and I were together, either. Part of me wonders if he knew that.

“Oh please,” she says, rolling her eyes and looking up at the ceiling.

“’Oh please’, what?  You’re telling me you’ve slept with every guy you’ve dated?”

“Not every guy.  Some of them were just good for kissing.”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.  Sometimes I wondered if she exaggerated some of her experiences.  She was seventeen and had a new boyfriend every week.  There’s no way that she could have slept with all of them, right?

“Maybe you should find a girlfriend, if you’re so anti-boy,” she says with yet another sly smile.  Keep your cool, I tell myself, swallowing the lump in my throat.  I could use this moment to tell her that I have, actually, thought about what it would be like to kiss her, to run my fingers up her spine, to lose myself with her under the covers… but I don’t.  I can’t.

Instead, I laugh – a high-pitched, fake laugh.

Luckily, she buys it.

“Really, Kait.  We have to take you shopping.  You have nothing good in here.”  She gets off the bed, walks over to my closet, and starts rummaging through it to find something that she would deem “party-worthy.”  The problem is, I don’t really have anything that she likes – I never do.  I usually borrow her clothes, and it looks like I might be doing just that again tonight.

“I know, my mom never lets me buy anything I actually like.”

“Ugh.  Let’s go alone, then.”

“My mom pays for my clothes, you know that,” I tell her, kind of embarrassed.  What seventeen year old girl needs to rely on her mom to buy her clothes?  I wish my mom would just give me money – like normal moms.  But no, mine makes sure she comes with me so she can approve of anything that I pick out first.

Dana gives me a disappointed look and shakes her head, pushing the tops in my closet aside.  She pulls out a black halter top and a red cherry print all over it.  Pondering it for a moment, she sighs and puts it back.

“Not all of us have parents who give us our own credit card,” I mutter. She either doesn’t catch it, or she just doesn’t acknowledge it if she does.

“Alright,” she says, and walks back over to the bed, her bare feet leaving small imprints in the pale pink carpeting as she moves.  “I think I might have something you can borrow.  Let’s see…”

She leans over the bed and digs through her duffel bag, throwing pajamas and socks aside.  She pulls out a short red dress and brings it over to me.  I look at it, and my jaw drops.

“There’s no way,” I tell her, shaking my head.  “I can’t wear that.”  Not only is the dress short, it has a dip in the neckline that would reveal a bit…too much. My parents would never even let me leave the house in something like this.

“You have to,” she tells me.  “It’s hot.  You’re hot.  Plus,” she says, inching her way back over to the bed and dipping her hand into her duffel again, “it matches mine.”

“When did you get these?” I ask, snatching the red one out of her hand.  The price tag is still attached, and when I glance at it, I instantly consider dropping it in horror.  The tag read $499.95.

“You paid $500 for this?”

She just shrugs.  “It’s not like I paid for it.  Either of them, actually.”

“What did you do this time?”

“Wore mine under my clothes after trying it on.  I used mom’s Amex for yours.”


“What?  I could have brought necklaces, too.”

“You can’t really plan on keeping these.”

“Why?  Mom’s drunk so often she doesn’t even bother looking at the bill.  And dad’s never home because he’s always out somewhere screwing the flavor of the week.”

“But still.  You stole that dress. It’s just not right.”

“And?” she was getting frustrated, and it was easy to tell I was actually getting on her nerves.

“Whatever,” I tell her, taking the red dress. She paid for mine, even if it meant she used her mom’s credit card. Mine wasn’t stolen, so I shouldn’t think too much on it, right? After all, I did need something nice to wear to this party tonight.

“I thought the red would look nice with your complexion.  And your hair,” she says, reaching out to touch the tip of my auburn hair.  She had always told me she was jealous of my hair; it hadn’t come out of a bottle and she loved that it was a naturally deep red.  What she wouldn’t envy, however, was the fact that I couldn’t even go out in the sun for five minutes without burning, or the spattering of freckles that covered my nose when I didn’t wear layers of concealer.

But Dana?  Dana was drop dead fucking gorgeous.

And she knew it, too.

1 signed paperback copy of Living Dead Girl (U.S.)

1 Kindle copy of Living Dead Girl (International)


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