Today, I'm hosting a promo on S.T. Ashman's upcoming release, Her Silence, as a part of the ongoing book blast tour. Check it out!
S.T. Ashman will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.
S.T. Ashman
Expected Publication: July 21, 2026
Nicole gets the call at 4 a.m. Her daughter Lacey was found in the woods beside her friend's dead husband. He was stabbed forty-four times. Lacey is barely alive. Covered in his blood. And completely mute.
She hasn't said a word since. Not to the police. Not to her husband. Not even to Nicole.
Nicole had Lacey at seventeen and swore her daughter would have a good life. Now Lacey is sitting in a cell, and Nicole's three grandchildren are left behind with a father who is losing it.
But Nicole knows her daughter. She isn't a cold-blooded murderer. Guilt didn't silence her. Fear did. Whatever happened in those woods scared Lacey more than prison.
So Nicole starts digging. But some secrets don't save people. They destroy them.
Buy Link:
Amazon
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An Excerpt from Her Silence:
"I heard a noise." Dylan's voice came from behind me.
I turned, still holding the bottle. He noticed it before I could hide it.
"What's the date on it?" he asked, unfazed.
It took me a second to catch up. "Oh. Umm. Let me see." I squinted at the label. "The stamp says the bottle is ten years old."
He nodded. "Then it's an old one."
I looked at Dylan in a mix of admiration and sadness.
Admiration for how mature he was. Standing there like that. Calm and composed.
Sadness because that bottle was a reminder of darker times. When Brian's parents died in their sleep from a carbon monoxide leak, it shattered the family. Brian fell into drinking, unable to cope with the loss.
It was Lacey, as always, who held everyone together and helped him through it.
"I'll throw it away," I said.
Dylan nodded again. "I better get back to Ethan and Lila."
He turned and headed back upstairs. I followed on his heels and tossed the bottle into the kitchen trash just as the phone rang.
Brian.
As if he knew we'd just been talking about him.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hey, it's me. Did you talk to Lacey?"
"Yes, she called me when she was finishing up her shift to check in on the kids. Is everything all right up there?"
"Yeah … just … just wanted to see how you guys are doing."
His tone wasn't alarming or overly sweet. Just neutral.
"We're good. Let me get the kids on the phone—"
"No, no. I'll talk to them later. Amanda … she needs my help with something."
I turned, still holding the bottle. He noticed it before I could hide it.
"What's the date on it?" he asked, unfazed.
It took me a second to catch up. "Oh. Umm. Let me see." I squinted at the label. "The stamp says the bottle is ten years old."
He nodded. "Then it's an old one."
I looked at Dylan in a mix of admiration and sadness.
Admiration for how mature he was. Standing there like that. Calm and composed.
Sadness because that bottle was a reminder of darker times. When Brian's parents died in their sleep from a carbon monoxide leak, it shattered the family. Brian fell into drinking, unable to cope with the loss.
It was Lacey, as always, who held everyone together and helped him through it.
"I'll throw it away," I said.
Dylan nodded again. "I better get back to Ethan and Lila."
He turned and headed back upstairs. I followed on his heels and tossed the bottle into the kitchen trash just as the phone rang.
Brian.
As if he knew we'd just been talking about him.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hey, it's me. Did you talk to Lacey?"
"Yes, she called me when she was finishing up her shift to check in on the kids. Is everything all right up there?"
"Yeah … just … just wanted to see how you guys are doing."
His tone wasn't alarming or overly sweet. Just neutral.
"We're good. Let me get the kids on the phone—"
"No, no. I'll talk to them later. Amanda … she needs my help with something."
Giveaway:
S. T. Ashman is an American-German author who calls the beautiful U.S. Seacoast home. A graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, she spent years working as a psychotherapist in the criminal justice system. The work gave her a rare window into the human mind, both the beautiful and the deeply shadowed. It's no wonder readers often say her characters feel real enough to step off the page.
When she's not crafting her next twisty tale, you'll find her chasing after her kids, nose-deep in a book, or curled up late at night with a horror movie and a husband who always falls asleep on the couch before the scary parts.
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