Lorana Hoopes's Blog

Tucker Jackson’s blood boiled as he watched the seconds on the clock run out. The buzz of the clock felt like a nail straight to his heart as did the cheers from the other team’s fans. Three points. Just three measly points. How could they have gotten so close? They had tasted the victory and then lost it.

An urge to hit something surged within him, and he curled his hand into a fist to keep it at bay. He thought he’d quelled the angry beast that lived inside of him with his boxing classes. Boxing classes that his friend and former teammate Emmitt Brown had recommended when his anger had surfaced because of the trade. And they’d been helping. Five days a week of pounding a bag was generally enough to appease the hunger. So, anger wasn’t usually his go-to emotion anymore, but this was ridiculous.

 

This was their second loss in a row, and both were by fewer than ten points. Sure, this was the toughest part of the team’s schedule. The teams they were playing now had good records, but the Tornados did too. At least they had. Of course, if they continued playing like this, they would lose their spot in the playoffs. With this loss, they were now sitting in the wild card position. Which meant instead of a week off to recover, they had to play in the wild card game and win in order to move to the quarterfinals. One more loss, and they would be out. Their season would be over. They had to win the next game.

 

And the next game was on Christmas Day just ten days away. Not the best day to play a football game. Morale was always a little lower because the men wanted to be with their families, especially the men with kids. Tucker didn’t have any kids, and he wasn’t that close to his family any more, but he didn’t like playing on Christmas Day either. Christmas Day was for watching silly holiday movies and eating too much.

 

He took off his helmet, clenching it in his left hand, as he joined the line of his teammates. It was tradition after every game to slap hands with the opposing team members. It was supposed to encourage camaraderie and discourage fighting, but Tucker wasn’t sure how effective it was. Maybe in high school when their jobs and paychecks hadn’t been on the line, but this was pro-football. How much money you were paid depended on individual playing time during the games and team performance throughout the season, so every play mattered. Every game mattered. And slapping hands with the men who had just lowered your paycheck often felt unnatural and forced.

 

Tucker kept his eyes down as he made his way through the line. “Good game. Good game.” The rote words rolled off is tongue without a conscious thought as his mind wandered back to the trade that had landed him here. Last year at this time, he had been on the Rebels. Sure, he hadn’t gotten to play as much, but the Rebels had won the Championship game. He even had the ring to prove it, although it meant less than it might have because he’d known even then he was getting traded to the Texas Tornados.

 

Trades happened in football. All the time. But why did it have to happen to him? He’d always been one of the best – in high school, in college, but he hadn’t even gotten the chance to show the Rebels what he could do. And yes, the Tornados were letting him run more, but what good was that if they didn’t win? Perhaps, if the Rebels saw how good he was, they might trade for him back, but even that was a shot in the dark. Had a team ever done that? He didn’t know.

 

With the obligatory congratulatory line finished, he headed toward the locker room. Blaine Hollis, quarterback, captain, and longest team member stood at the door smiling and patting the guys’ shoulders as they entered. Blaine was the definition of good sportsmanship. In fact, Tucker was fairly certain his face would be next to the word in the dictionary. Win or lose, the man always had a smile and an encouraging word. Most days, Tucker found it refreshing – it reminded him of his former teammate Emmitt who everyone had called “Rev” – but not today. Not after losing a game they should have won.

 

“Good game.” Blaine nodded and clapped Tucker on the shoulder. “We’ll get them next time.” Hollis was a good guy, but he was always spouting platitudes like these. Platitudes that felt empty when the loss column rose in number instead of the win column. Tucker was tired of his optimism. Optimism and platitudes didn’t win championships.

 

“Will we?” Tucker asked. The condescension in his voice surprised him. He wasn’t normally so pessimistic, but he hadn’t adjusted to Southlake the way he thought he would have by now. People had flocked to him in the past, but he was beginning to wonder if that had been more because of his family’s money than himself.

 

His father was a prominent attorney in San Antonio, and he had donated a lot of money to buildings and charities to get his name on things – a dormitory hall, a high school stadium, a hospital wing. Tucker had enjoyed the fame, and he had never lacked for anything in his life, except maybe a father who was physically there; but he certainly wasn’t experiencing the same thing here. Not that the people weren’t nice, it was just that they were also like him. He didn’t stand out. Not like he used to. “If we lose the next game, we’re out for the rest of the season. If you had just let me run that last play…”

 

Blaine shook his head and fixed his steely eyes on Tucker. His voice dropped to his serious captain’s tone – the one that declared he was in charge and he would not allow backtalk. “I made a call. They were all over your running game today. Maybe it would have played out differently if you had run but maybe not. We can’t win every game, Tucker, and if you only focus on the ones we lose, you will never find the joy of playing the game.”

 

The joy of playing the game? This wasn’t some neighborhood tackle game. This was his livelihood Blaine was being so blase about. “Is that what you guys told yourselves when you lost last year?”

 

Tucker stared defiantly at Blaine. He knew Blaine wasn’t to blame for the Tornados’ losses last year; he was a good quarterback. In the top five of the league to be exact. The problem was that there were thirty-two teams and only two made it all the way to the championship game, so sometimes being good wasn’t good enough. Still, he couldn’t seem to tame the anger coursing through his veins.

 

“Shower and get out of here,” Blaine said with a nod toward the locker room behind him. “You need some time off.” Though his words were forceful, and his level gaze backed them up, he didn’t raise his voice or yell. Tucker might have felt better if he had. The quiet, even tone reminded him of his mother’s scolding when he’d been in trouble growing up; and just like then, it quelled Tucker’s anger and made him realize his mistake.

 

“Blaine, I’m sorry man. I’m just frustrated.” Tucker knew he had stepped over the line, and if he didn’t get back in Blaine’s good graces, he’d be riding the bench and probably facing another trade. In fact, if he didn’t watch it, he’d wind up with a label on his back that would make every team in the league shy away from him. And then where would he be?

 

“We all are, but I wasn’t kidding. Go clear your head and decide if this is still where you want to be, what you want to be doing. IF it is, I’ll see you at practice at five p.m. tomorrow.”

 

Tucker knew better than to argue. Like a scolded puppy, he hung his head and shuffled past Blaine, barely managing a “Yes, sir.” He berated himself as he walked to his locker. His temper was getting the better of him. Again. And he needed to get it under control. This was a struggle he thought he had won but apparently not.

 

Around him, the banter from his teammates created a soft buzz. A few words bypassed the static and reached his ears – favorite plays of the game, mistakes they’d made. How did they all appear in better spirits than Tucker? Why did he let his frustration get the better of him? Why did he always focus on the worst case scenario?

 

**

 

Shelby Doll sighed as she watched Quinn attempt to dribble a basketball and give up when the ball refused to bounce. She had already put air in the ball twice this week, but it seemed to lose the air as soon as she filled it. Just another thing she needed to replace if she only had the money.

 

“Uh oh, I know that sigh,” her friend Kenzi said beside her. “What’s wrong?”

 

“What’s always wrong?” Shelby didn’t know why Kenzi even asked. It was always the same answer. “Money. The rent is due on this place by the end of the month, and we don’t have it. Attendance has dropped since that trampoline park opened up down the street.”

 

She didn’t want to wish ill on any business, but that place was the bane of her existence. They’d come in a few months ago with flashy signs, a new sparkling building, and more money to spend on advertising and specials than she’d make in a year. The town of Southlake was rather affluent, and most families had been using the community center because it was the only option. When the trampoline park opened, those that had the money to spend had pulled their kids, leaving the few kids who were already scraping by as the only customers.

 

“That place is just a fad,” Kenzi said with a wave of her hand. The sparkly pink of her nails caught the light and sent tiny rainbows of colors dancing across the nearby wall. Kenzi always had her nails painted and it changed with her mood or her outfit. Shelby, on the other hand, rarely painted her nails, and when she did, it was never a frivolous red or a fluffy pink color. A clear polish was much more functional.

 

“It won’t last,” Kenzi continued, “and when kids tire of it, they’ll come back here because you are amazing.” She flashed her famous cheerleader smile – the one that had made her one of the most popular girls in college – as she squeezed Shelby’s shoulder.

 

Shelby didn’t know about that. When she had begun managing the center a year ago, she felt amazing, but now she felt… behind the times. “What if they don’t? Those kids out there need us.” Her eyes found Darby, the young girl with glasses bigger than her face whose father had just been killed in the line of duty. Her mother needed this place for Darby, but she was strapped financially now that she was a single mother. And then there was Quinn. Tall and skinny, he was often picked on at school because he spent more time reading than playing sports or the newest video game. But here he was just one of the gang. His mother was battling cancer, so there was no extra money there. And there was Benji. She still wasn’t sure exactly how he had become paralyzed as he never talked about it, but his father had left when he was young, and his mother worked long hours.

 

There were other kids, but these three always stood out to her because they seemed to need the center the most. She scanned the gymnasium again. Once, they had watched nearly every school age kid in town for at least a few hours after school. Basketballs would echo across the floor as teams played. One corner of the gym had been staked out for reading and playing cards. Still another part had been the creative hangout for students who enjoyed theater and role play. But then the trampoline park had opened and offered its flashy new entertainment for kids, and most of the kids had left.

 

Now, there were only a handful. A few basketballs still thudded against the floor, but even they sounded sad as if the kids couldn’t muster the emotion of delight that had previously lived there. Now, most of the kids read or worked on homework, and the muted atmosphere broke Shelby’s heart. Quinn placed the ball back into the rack and didn’t even try another. He simply shuffled to the bleachers and sat down next to Darby.

 

“What if they don’t?” she asked again. “What if, come the new year, we can’t pay the rent, and we have to close the doors forever?” They had always run on a tight budget, but the drop in enrollment had quickly drained what little reserve they kept. If anything unexpected happened they would have to repair, there would be no money. Plus, Christmas was right around the corner, and there would be little cheer at the center this year. There was no money for decorations, no money for a party, no money for gifts. Shelby pushed her wire-framed glasses up her freckled nose and sighed.

 

Kenzi flashed a sympathetic smile as she wrapped an arm around Shelby’s shoulders. “We’ll just have to pray that doesn’t happen.”

 

Prayer. Shelby knew how important that was; but while she would never stop praying, she couldn’t stop the tiny voice that often whispered in her ear that she wasn’t seeing her prayers answered yet. Was God even listening to her? Did He even care? Couldn’t He send the money if He really wanted to? Drop a winning lottery ticket on the front doorstep? Or have a wealthy family leave a donation?

 

“I think we may need more than just prayers for help,” Shelby said with a final glance at the gym. “We might need to pray for a miracle.

 

Read the Rest!

Never Forget the Past Sneak Peek!

Chapter 1

She loved to watch things burn. Fire meant renewal. It allowed the old and useless items to be destroyed so new and worthwhile things could take their places. It was also cleansing. Sins could be erased in fire. The hot, searing heat held perfection and no mercy. No one could escape the fire’s wrath. Which was why it had to be done. 

Some people believed that God doled out judgement, but the truth was that God was often too merciful. Too full of grace. He forgave people who didn’t deserve it. Therein lay the need for His angels. People who could witness the depravity of man or woman and take the necessary steps to cleanse the world. People like her.

She let the match burn to her fingertips, enjoying the heat that pulsed through her hand. Some angels preferred fancier ways to start a fire, but she had always enjoyed the simplest way. A little gasoline and a match. All it took was an open window, a splash of gas, one strike, and the fire would lick the gas up in giant gulps. Flames would race each other to the top of the house and snake their way along the walls. She never had to be inside this way, but she always made sure they were. And she always struck at night when deep sleep would keep them from escaping. So far, no one had escaped.

The match, a charred remnant of wood now, floated to the ground. When it landed, she placed the toe of her shoe over it and twisted, burying it into the dirt. She only ever left one. To leave any more would be tempting fate. Even the one she left was always a way back from the scene, but it was her homage, her thanks for being bestowed with this honor. Not everyone could do what she did, and she willingly bore the weight of her title.

As the flames licked higher, she stepped back into the comforting dark of the forest. The limbs of the trees reached out for her like arms of a mother, and the leaves hid her form so she could watch undisturbed. Watching was her favorite part. She thrived on the fear that graced each face that saw the fire, the terror that colored each voice as they yelled out orders or cried. Even the nervous bustling activity brought a smile to her face. But the best part by far was when the coroner arrived, and the body left the house in its black bag. 

A finality existed just in the word black – its heavy feeling on the tongue and its abundance of thick blended consonants – but even more in the form of it. Zipped from head to toe, no more light poked into the bag. No more grace. Only darkness. A shiver of delight ran down her spine at the thought. Yes, that was her favorite part.

She settled against the tree and waited. It had been a long time, but finally, she was back.

 

Chapter 2

Captain Makenna Drake stared at the crime scene and sighed. It had been so quiet the last few years. Why did this have to start again now?

“Do you think it’s the same guy?” Tad asked from behind her shoulder.

She glanced up at her lieutenant, the only other cop still on the force who had been on the case five years ago when the murders had first started. He was still young-looking, his face not yet marred with the wrinkles the stress of this job brought. His dark hair held no traces of gray, and his eyes glistened with curiosity and wonder – something she had lost long ago. 

But, he’d just been training then. He’d heard about the murders and worked a little on the case, but he hadn’t been entrenched in it the way she had. And life had returned to normal after that – traffic stops and bar brawls, but nothing serious. She wondered if he would still look so young when this was over, or if, like her, his face would bear the brunt of the weight of cases like this. “I don’t know. The MO is the same. House fire at night, open window where the fire starts, but all the victims last time were women.”

“Except for Matt Parker,” he said.

Right, Matt Parker. The final victim. The man everyone thought was dead. Everyone except Makenna who knew better. Everyone except Makenna who sent him away when he came to her after the attempt on his life. “Yes, except for him, but if our killer changed his victim MO with Matt, why the long break?”

Tad shook his head, confusion clouding his face. “Something must have triggered him.”

“Yes, but what?” Makenna hated that this guy was killing again. She hated the fear that would blanket the small town as it had five years ago. She hated the fact that she hadn’t caught the guy last time. Even more, she hated the fact that she had told Matt Parker to leave, had let his family believe he was dead, for nothing. She’d thought she was saving him, had thought the killer was after him, but now he was striking again even though Matt Parker was long gone. How much of Matt Parker’s life had she destroyed with her wrong choice?

She supposed it could be a copycat. The fires always started at night when the victims were asleep. They always started inside an open window, and the only accelerant they could ever determine was gasoline. Sometimes the window was broken, but they never found fingerprints or what he used to break it which meant he took it with him and probably wore gloves. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was possible someone had read about the old cases and decided to try his hand. 

Makenna didn’t think so though. Woodville was a smaller town – not tiny but small enough that crimes were few and far between. Most of her time was spent ticketing speeders or the occasional red light runners. Besides those murders five years ago, the only other big case they’d had was when Tommy Granger went missing for a few hours and his parents believed he’d been kidnapped. Turned out, he had fallen asleep in the dog house with their new puppy and just didn’t hear all the shouts. 

So, the chances of a copycat choosing their town again just didn’t sit right with her. It made much more sense that something had appeased the killer last time and something had triggered him again this time. Of course, the only thing that could have appeased him last time was the death of Matt Parker, but then why start killing again? As far as Makenna knew, she was the only one who knew Matt was alive, who knew where he was. Had there been more to it last time? Something she had missed?

“What are we going to do, Captain?” Tad asked.

Makenna took another deep breath and uttered the words she’d both hoped to and dreaded to say. “I guess I’m going to bring someone back from the dead.”

**

Billy “Bubba” Campbell glanced around his apartment as he locked up. Though he enjoyed his alone time, he wished he had someone to share the evenings with, but his job as a firefighter kept him busy. And then there was the issue with his past. No one in Fire Beach knew his real past, and though he had fully embraced his current life, that reality made it hard to let people in – really in – enough to form a relationship with. Besides, what if it happened again? He couldn’t stand any woman he cared about getting hurt again. No, it was better this way. He would just be content with good friends and the good Lord.

Speaking of good friends, he better hurry up. Tonight, Detective Jordan Graves, was throwing a party for Tia Sweetchild, the author who had ended up in their town after a car accident the opening night of Jordan’s restaurant. They had all worked to save her, and though she’d had a long recovery, she’d done it with the help of her now-boyfriend, Dr. Brody Cavanaugh. Bubba still marveled at how the members of the different departments had bonded. 

The rest of the crew was already at the restaurant when Bubba entered, but thankfully, his friend and fellow firefighter Luca had saved him a seat. Luca was a Southerner like Bubba, but he was from Georgia. The differences were few, but they came out occasionally, usually around food. Luca had once called him a Yankee for not knowing what a ham hock was. Weird that they now both lived up North in Illinois.

He slid into the seat next to Luca just as Jordan banged his water glass with a spoon. Though he would never have opted for the title, Jordan had become their glue. He had a commanding presence, and being a cop plus the co-owner of the restaurant put him in the forefront quite often.

The conversation quieted, allowing him to speak. “Thank you all for coming. As you all know, we have a resident celebrity in our midst.” He smiled at Tia, and she dropped her eyes as a soft pink color crawled up her cheeks. “And she has finally finished her masterpiece. Tia get up here and show off your beautiful book.” Tia had been an author before her accident, but after it, she had taken some time to work in the restaurant while she healed. Somehow, she had managed to write a book at the same time.

Tia shook her head as she pushed back her chair. Bubba didn’t know all of Tia’s story, but he’d heard a little through the grapevine and he’d been there when she had first been rescued with the Jaws of Life. It would be hard to tell she had ever been in a serious accident except for the large red scar that still arced across her forehead.  

She grabbed a bag and walked to the front of the table. “Thank you all for wanting to celebrate this with me. This wasn’t an easy book to write, but your support helped me get past all the hard parts. Now, I’ve loved a lot of books I’ve written, but I think this might be my best.”

“Hear, hear,” Brody, her boyfriend and ICU doctor, said lifting his glass and flashing her a large smile. “What?” he asked as he looked around the table. “I already read it, so I know that it’s good. She got the doctor spot on.”

Tia shook her head and smiled at him. “Anyway, I think it is because of all of you that it turned out so well, and that’s why I’m pleased to present to you…” she paused before pulling the book out of the bag, “The Key to Remember.”

Bubba joined in the cheers and clapping as Tia passed the book around the table. He hadn’t read it yet, but if it chronicled her narrow escape from the men who had been after her when she lost her memory, he had no doubt it would be interesting. When the book reached his hands, he flipped through the pages before turning to Luca Sanders. “Hey, this might even be a book you could read, Luca.” 

“Only if it’s on audiobook,” Luca shot back. “I can’t sit still long enough to read a paper book. Sorry, Tia.”

“You probably couldn’t focus long enough to listen to an audiobook either,” Bubba said with a deep chuckle. “Unless maybe it was a Dr. Seuss book.”

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with Dr. Seuss,” Luca said, punching Bubba in the arm. “I still remember Green Eggs and Ham. Of course, maybe that’s because our teacher actually made us eat green eggs.” A grimace contorted his face and Bubba laughed out loud.

“Excuse me?”

The conversation stilled at the unfamiliar voice, and Bubba’s blood ran cold. It couldn’t be. She’d promised not to come find him unless the murders started again. He turned toward the doorway where a petite woman stood. She was thinner and her hair held a few more silver strands, but Bubba would have wagered a year’s wage that the woman was Makenna Drake.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but do any of you know where I can find Matt Parker?” Her eyes scanned the room, and Bubba knew when they reached him, she would recognize him. He hadn’t changed that much in five years. They hadn’t thought a change of appearance would be necessary. Moving him a few hours away and giving him a whole new name and past had seemed like enough.

Confused glances shot around the room and Jordan stood to address her. “I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s no Matt Parker here.”

“Actually, there is.” Bubba took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Time seemed to freeze as every eye turned turned his direction, and he pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m Matt Parker.”

“What? What are you talking about, Bubba? Who is this woman?” The questions fired at him from all across the table and Bubba held up his hands to quiet them down.

“I’ll answer all your questions, but let me start with the last one first.” He turned to Makenna and motioned her to join them. “This is Lieutenant Makenna Drake.”

“Actually, it’s Captain now.”

Bubba raised a brow and shot her a glance riddled with questions. She was a good cop, but captain already?

She smiled and shrugged as if reading his mind. “It’s a small town.” 

He chuckled at that. “It is, but somehow I doubt that’s the only reason you’re a captain now. I should have expected nothing less.” He looked away from Makenna and back to his friends to continue his story. “Captain,” he emphasized the word, “Drake is from Woodville where I used to live.”

“Woodville? I thought you were from Texas,” Luca said.

“I am originally from Texas, but I moved to Woodville in high school. I graduated there and trained to become a firefighter.”

“You? Or Matt Parker?” Jordan asked, and Bubba did not miss the note of suspicion threading his voice.

“Matt Parker. That is the name I was born with. Anyway, for a couple of years, it was great. I loved the area and my job, but then about five years ago, people began dying.”

“Women, specifically,” Makenna said, joining in. “Women who happened to die in fires and all had some connection to Matt.”

“You didn’t honestly think he was responsible, did you?” Cassidy asked. Daggers flew from her eyes and laced her voice.

Bubba had to smile at Cassidy. She was the only female firefighter in their unit, and she was like his little sister. He was fiercely protective of her, and it appeared she was of him as well.

“We didn’t have much to go on,” Makenna said sadly. “Nothing is ever left at the scene, and the only link seemed to be Matt.”

“So, what changed your mind?” Officer Alayna “Al” Parker asked.

“When I became a victim,” Bubba said. “Maybe it was because I’m always around fires, but the smell woke me up, and I escaped. Makenna decided then that I wasn’t the perpetrator and that it would be safer if I left town and changed my name. She helped me set up this new identity. I didn’t mean to lie to you all.” Bubba meant every word, but he also couldn’t deny feeling lighter finally sharing his past with his friends.

“That all makes sense,” Jordan said, “but why are you back now?”

Makenna bit her lip and then sighed as she caught Bubba’s eye. “Because the murders have started again.”

Bubba’s heart sank at the words, and a seed of anger sprouted in his chest. Makenna had told him that whoever was behind the killings held a vendetta against him for some reason and would stop with the news of his death. He had believed her. He had let his family believe he was dead and broken all communication with them. And for what? Nothing, it appeared now.

“I know you have no reason to come back, but I’m hoping that you will. You were the only victim who survived, though the killer doesn’t know that. We’re hoping that seeing that you survived might fluster him enough to mess up and give us some clue as to who he is.”

Bubba leaned back as he thought about her request. He owed her nothing. He’d spent the last five years trying to put Woodville out of his mind, to pretend he didn’t miss his family. And he was happy here in Fire Beach, mostly. But there had always been that nagging thought in his head. The thought that wondered if he would really ever forget Matt Parker and truly be Billy Campbell. The thought that the killer had some connection to him and by running, he had put more people in danger. 

“I’ll do it,” he said finally. The thought of going back to Woodville held a sense of relief along with a feeling of terror, but it also felt right. 

“Are you sure, Bubba?” Cassidy asked. “It sounds dangerous. Maybe Jordan should go with you.” She looked to her boyfriend, but his face was impassive.

“I’m about out of leave, but I’ll check with Stone, and see if he’ll give me some more leave.”

“I could go,” Al said. “I’m pretty certain I have some leave saved up.”

“Guys, I’ll be fine,” Bubba said though inside he wondered if that were true. He’d gone through a lot of counseling after leaving Woodville. He’d spent an abundant amount of time trying to forget the women who were killed, trying to forget his family. Could he really go back and relive it all again? What would his parents say?

“Thank you, Matt. I guess it’s settled then,” Makenna said.

But it didn’t feel settled to Bubba. Could he really face his old demons? What if he didn’t make it back this time? No, that was out of his hands. God had protected him last time, and He would do it again this time if it was His will. Bubba shook his head to clear the voices and turned to Makenna. “When do we leave?”

 

Chapter 3

Makenna felt like a trespasser as she stood in Matt’s apartment waiting for him to gather some items. She had told him to pack for a week, but what if it turned out to be longer? What if Matt wasn’t the link and seeing him did nothing? What if it really was a copycat who would have little knowledge of Matt Parker at all?

Trust. She had to trust God that this was the right move. She’d learned to trust her instincts when she became a cop, and they had rarely proved her wrong. But, she knew that trusting God was even more important, and she felt sure He’d led her back to Matt Parker. 

She’d begun looking to God after the case from five years ago. She’d needed a way to deal with her anger and frustration at not finding the killer. Then, the promotions had happened and stress had consumed her life. Church and her time with God had been the only sanity saving times for a while.

“Almost ready,” he called from the bedroom.

His place was small – a one bedroom apartment, but he had decorated it tastefully. The furniture matched, and the pictures on the wall complemented them. She wondered if he had decorated the place himself or if a woman had? 

There had been several women at the restaurant where she’d found him, but none of them appeared to be more than a friend, and she saw no sign of a woman living in the apartment. Of course, it was none of her business if he did have a woman, but for some reason the thought that he didn’t… affected her. She told herself it was simply because she too was single and she liked the validation that it was okay to be in your thirties and still single, but if she were honest with herself, she would acknowledge that Matt had a place in her heart.

She had truly believed sending him away was saving not only his life but the life of his family and friends, but she had never forgotten him. She’d thought often of checking up on him to see how he was doing, but she hadn’t wanted to chance the killer finding out he was still alive and coming after him. Now, here he was back in her life. As strong and handsome as he had been five years ago.    

“You ready?” he asked.

His voice shook her back to reality, and she nodded. “Do you have anyone to look after the place while you’re gone?” It was a cowardly way to ask, but his answer would tell her if he was seeing someone or not.

“Cassidy and Luca both offered to check in on the place.”

Makenna nodded and stepped out the front door. “They seem nice. Your friends.”

“They are. And protective. They’re all I’ve had for the last five years.” She didn’t hear condemnation in his voice, but she felt it all the same.

“I’m sorry, Matt.”

He held up a hand and shook his head. “Let’s not rehash the past. You did what you thought was right, and I went along with it. Let’s just hope it ends differently this time.”

Makenna nodded. What could she say to that? He locked the door and followed her to her car, but the tension lay heavy between them. Like an invisible barrier. She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake coming back here and upending his life. Again.

She glanced over at Matt as they drove back to Woodville. His posture was stiff and his eyes stared out of the window. She wondered what was going on in his head. Was he scared? Nervous? She sure was. It had been a nightmare working this case five years ago, but she’d still been learning then. Now, she was running the department which meant that more responsibility lay on her shoulders. She had to catch this guy. 

“Why Bubba?” she asked. The audible words surprised her. She had been wondering about the nickname from the moment she heard it, but she hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud. At least, not yet.

Matt shrugged and turned his head slowly in her direction. “Bubba seemed to fit the Southern personality I had created. Once I said it out loud, it just sort of stuck.”

“Should I call you that?” Makenna wasn’t sure what to call him. She knew him as Matt, but she also knew he’d been living under a different name for the last few years. How odd must that be? She didn’t even like nicknames though her old captain had called her Mac. He was the only one though.

Matt appeared to think for a minute as the knuckles of his right hand ran down the side of his square jaw. She’d forgotten how solid he was, but now that he was in her car, it was hard not to notice how his broad shoulders filled every inch of the passenger seat and how the seatbelt accentuated his muscular chest. 

“Yeah, Bubba would be nice. It’s the only name that’s felt right since I quit being Matt.”

“Was it hard to adjust?”

The seatbelt groaned as it stretched with his deep breath. “It was at first. Especially leaving my life behind. How is my family anyway?”

“They’re fine,” Makenna said careful to keep her voice even, but she knew that was far from the truth. His parents had been devastated by Matt’s “death,” and the grief had aged them faster than they might have without it. She knew he probably had other siblings, but the only one she had ever met was Felicity, his sister who worked for a local doctor. She had grieved briefly, but then she had seemed to continue on as if nothing had happened. Perhaps, it was because of her job. Maybe her boss had given her counseling, but it had still given Makenna pause. His parents, however, would probably be overjoyed to see him now and know he was alive, but Makenna knew they would rain fire down on her for the lie, even if it had been a lie to keep him safe.

“That was the hardest part,” he continued. Makenna breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t pressed about his family any further. “Not seeing my family and learning to respond to a different name. It’s not something I ever thought I’d have to do, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I often felt like I was developing multiple personalities.”

Makenna could understand that. Even though she knew he was the same person, the man sitting next to her was slightly different from the one who had left five years ago. His voice was softer. His eyes carried a little more sadness. Even some of his mannerisms were different. 

“I’m sorry. I thought it was the best way to keep you safe.”

He shrugged again and turned his face back to the window. “It probably was.”

Silence filled the car, and Makenna forced her mouth shut. She wanted to ask him more questions. About the last few years, about what he remembered of the case, about how he was feeling, but she could tell he wasn’t ready to throw that door wide open yet.

“Why do you think he started again?” Matt asked as he turned to her suddenly. No, not Matt. Bubba. He wanted her to call him Bubba, and she would try and honor that. The name felt weird in her head and she imagined it would on her tongue as well, but she would bury her discomfort for him.

“We’re not sure. Something definitely triggered him. Maybe a death.” She paused, unsure if she should tell him the rest of the issue now or when they could look over the evidence.

“What aren’t you saying?” 

Her eyes flicked from the road to meet his steely gaze. Now, it was. If he hadn’t become a firefighter, he would have made a great cop as well. “Something in the MO changed.”

“A copycat?” Bubba asked.

Makenna shook her head. “No, we’re pretty sure it’s the same guy. Same details. Fire started at an open window, gas for accelerant, single match found at the scene. Details we never released to the public.”

“So, what’s changed?”

“The victim. When he struck five years ago, all the victims were women. Except for you. Our current victim is another man.”

“What does that mean?” Bubba asked as he shook his head.

“We don’t know. We’re hoping maybe you can help us figure that out.”

**

Bubba swallowed the lump that clogged his throat as they passed the small green “Welcome to Woodville” sign. Conflicting emotions raged within him. On one hand, he was excited to see his parents and his sister again, but coming back here also brought back a lot of memories.

Bubba’s eyes snapped open. For a second, he wasn’t sure what had woken him, but then he smelled it – the acrid smell of smoke. Light but definitely there. Once you’ve been in a burning building, the smell of the smoke never leaves you, and he had been in enough buildings to never mistake the smell no matter how faint it was. Then the soft crackle of the fire met his ears. He threw his covers back and could already feel the gentle tease of the approaching heat. Out! He had to get out.

He touched the handle of his door and quickly pulled his hand back. An intense heat coated the metal. The fire was right outside of the door then. No opening the door to make it to an exit. No using his fire extinguisher to tame the fire. The idea of losing his house and belongings was sobering, but he hadn’t started this fire. Someone else had. Someone who could be the same arsonist who had killed three women in fires recently. Someone who could still be around – watching, waiting to see if Bubba escaped. From his years in the department, Bubba knew many arsonists liked to stay and watch the fires. 

Bubba turned from the door and crossed to the window. He peered into the darkness but saw no one waiting in the shadows. Still, what if the killer was waiting outside to make sure Bubba didn’t escape? It was a chance he had to take. He grabbed his cell phone and threw on a pair of shoes, and then he opened the window and knocked out the screen. It would be a tight squeeze for his large frame, but he thought he would just fit. 

The cool night air sent a shiver down his back as it dispelled the heat he had felt just moments before. He should have grabbed a shirt too or a jacket. His feet hit the ground, and he stepped back. The fire had already claimed half of his house, and the flames licked closer to where he stood. With a final glance around him, Bubba shot off in the direction farthest from the fire’s origin. Only when he felt he was far enough away not to be seen or heard did he pull his cell phone out and dial 911.

Bubba squeezed his eyes shut to dispel the images and then took a deep breath. He could do this.

“You okay?” Makenna asked beside him.

“Yeah, just dealing with a few demons from the past.” 

She didn’t press the issue for which Bubba was glad. He didn’t want to relive the nightmare out loud. He’d done enough of that in counseling when he’d first moved to Fire Beach. The therapist had been cleared and sworn to secrecy, but Bubba had still been relieved when the sessions ended.

“I know you want to see your family, but I have a feeling it might be a long and emotional reunion, so do you mind if we hit the station first? I want to see what we’ve found out about our victim.”

“Fine.” Bubba did want to see his parents and his sister if she still lived here, but he was nervous about it as well. He wouldn’t mind the extra time to prepare himself mentally. “Is anybody else from the old case still here?” Most of the cops had been great, but there’d been one, an older, gruff man who had glared at Bubba every time he’d come around.

“Just Tad Brewer. He’s my lieutenant now. Everyone else either retired or took a position in another town.”

“Couldn’t handle the pressure of the investigation?” Bubba asked.

She glanced at him as she pulled into the parking lot. “I’m sure that was the issue for a few of them – the ones who have always tied everything up with a nice bow. For the others,” she shrugged, “I think they thought a small town would be less work.”

Bubba chuckled at that, but he bet she was right.

“You ready?” she asked as she turned off the engine.

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.” Could one ever be ready for something like this? To step back into the fire after narrowly escaping with his life? What if the killer found out he was still alive and went after him again? No. Trust. He had to trust. He whispered a silent prayer as he put his hand on the door.

“Okay, let’s go.”

**

Makenna pulled open the door and stepped inside the small station first, but she could feel the hulking presence of Bubba behind her. Had he always been such a presence? She remembered him being handsome back then, but she’d been too focused on her career to notice many men. Plus, he’d been a suspect at first, making him unsuitable to date, but now she was settled and he was cleared. And she couldn’t deny he was attractive.

“Hey, Captain,” Clark, her newest recruit, said from the front desk. He had just graduated from the academy and was green, but he seemed like a good kid.

She nodded at him before continuing through to the evidence room. Tad, Kelsey, and Brayden sat at their respective desks, but all looked up as they entered.

“Guys, this is Matt Parker, er Bubba, the guy I was telling you about. He’s the only one to escape the arsonist, and he’s offered to lend whatever help he can. Bubba, you remember Tad Brewer. This is Kelsey Knight and Brayden Cook.”

Tad stood first and extended a hand. “Good to see you again, man.” The two men shook and then Kelsey stood and threw out her hand as well.

Kelsey had been the first one hired after Makenna’s predecessor, Stillman, had made captain. She was good, thorough, and though her thinner frame mislead people, she was tough as nails.

“Nice to meet you, Bubba. Wish it was under better circumstances.”

“As do I.”

Brayden was the last to stand. He’d sent his application in right after the arsonist story made the news. Makenna hadn’t been sure whether he was simply chasing the story or if he was hoping to be the one to break the case. He had an ego the size of Texas. Had it been her decision, she might not have hired him, but he had turned out to be a decent cop.

“Welcome, Bubba.”

“Okay, now that introductions are made, let’s catch Bubba up on the case. As you remember, there were three women killed the first time.” Makenna moved over to the board where pictures were hanging. “Daisy Johnson who worked at the coffee shop you stopped at regularly. Alexis Gibbons who worked out at the same gym you did, and Clarissa Wiggins who was a massage therapist and whom you dated briefly, am I right?”

Bubba nodded, but his eyes were wide as he looked from one woman to the next. “When you lay it out like that, I can see why you thought I was a suspect.”

Makenna nodded. “You were the only link we could find between these three women. Clarissa and Daisy didn’t attend the same gym Alexis did. Neither Alexis or Clarissa drank coffee much, and we found no record that Daisy or Alexis were ever clients of Clarissa.”

“So, if the killer was after me, why go after these women? I barely knew Daisy. I mean I spoke to her the mornings I ordered coffee, but I’d never seen her outside of the coffee shop, and Alexis led the aerobics classes at my gym which I didn’t take. The only one I had a true connection with was Clarissa, and we broke up months before she was killed. And it was amicable.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Tad spoke up and joined Makenna at the board. “At first we thought the killer was a spurned interest or something. All of these women are beautiful, so perhaps he tried to ask them out and was rejected. That made sense until the attempt on your life.”

“When you were brought into the equation, we were left with two scenarios,” Makenna continued. “Either the killer wanted to hurt you and he chose these women because he thought they meant something to you or you represented what he would never be.”

“But if it were the latter, wouldn’t he have kept killing even after me?” Bubba’s eyes flicked from Tad to Makenna. “You said the killings had stopped after the attempt on my life.”

“They did. Until the other night. Now, we have another victim.” She motioned to Kelsey who stood and took her place at the board. 

“This is Peter Smith,” Kelsey said pointing to a picture of a young looking man. “Single though we believe he had a girlfriend. He owned a detail shop on Fifth that he opened a few years ago. There’s only one other employee and we’re still working on his friends, but his parents live here as well.”

Bubba’s brow creased as he gazed at the man. “I don’t understand. I don’t know that man and he isn’t in the same occupation that I am. Does the killer want to be both of us?”

Makenna exchanged glances with her team. Bubba not knowing Peter did blow a hole in the first theory, and he was right – the other man didn’t look like him. He was smaller, more average looking, and his job didn’t hold the clout that a firefighter’s did. “We don’t know.”

She hated saying those words. She was supposed to be in control here, but this guy – if it was the same guy and not a copycat – just made no sense. Why the shift in victims? Why the long break? Why did he start killing again? There had to be some connection, some trigger, but she had no idea what it was.

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Chapter 1

Cassidy Marcel gazed at the firehouse with trepidation. She loved her job, but she also knew firefighters. They loved to razz each other over everything, and her appearance on the reality dating show, Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy, would be no exception. Plus, she wondered how Captain Fitzgerald was going to react. The stony-faced Captain hadn’t been her biggest fan before she took three weeks off; she assumed she would be even lower on his list now.

Inhaling deeply, she pulled her shoulders back hoping she appeared more confident than she felt. Then she opened her car door, tucked her dark hair behind her ears, and walked into the lion’s den.

“Marcel, so glad you could grace us with your presence again.” Billy Campbell, or Bubba, as everyone called him stood before her, a giant smile on his face. He was one of her favorite people in the firehouse. Originally from Texas, he had a heart bigger than his smile and was more like an older brother than a co-worker. “I didn’t want you to feel like we didn’t want you, so I thought this my help.” From behind his back, he brandished a miniature black cowboy hat and held it out to her. Though small, it somehow sported sequins that caught and shimmered in the light.

Cassidy rolled her eyes good naturedly as she shook her head. She should have expected something like this, especially after the sugar incident last year. Sugar wouldn’t have to grace her grocery list for another six months at least. “Haha, thanks, Bubba. I missed you too.” She grabbed the hat knowing several more of these would be in store before the day was through. “Did I miss any excitement while I was gone?”

Bubba pushed open the door to the common room that doubled as a living room and the kitchen area. “Only if you count Luca’s boycott of Deacon’s Paleo meal plan.”

“It’s not a meal if there’s no potatoes in it,” Luca said speaking up from the couch. Luca was a Southern boy as well, and he believed every meal should include meat and potatoes. And chocolate. The man insisted that every meal come with a dessert which explained the extra twenty pounds he carried on his frame. Somehow though it didn’t hinder him in his job. He was strong and agile and quicker than almost all of them. His eyes flicked up briefly from the television he was watching. “Oh, hey, Marcel, welcome back.” He launched something at her without ever taking his eyes off the screen.

She knew what it was before it landed a few inches from her. Another miniature cowboy hat. This one was brown and had a tiny feather. Cassidy picked it up and flashed Luca a crooked grin. “Thanks, Luca. I missed you too.”

“Forgive him. He didn’t like the brownies I gave him with dinner last night, and he’s still sour about it,” Deacon said as he stepped around the island in the kitchen and toward her and Bubba. Strong and dark skinned, Deacon was the epitome of an oxymoron. His bulging muscles gave him an intimidating presence, but inside he was the biggest teddy bear. He pulled her in for a hug before brandishing his own miniature hat.

Cassidy chuckled as she took the hat though she had no idea what she was going to do with all of these. She had only kept one from the show and that was more as a souvenir than anything else. And a reminder to never do something like that again.

“Brownies don’t have prunes in them,” Luca spoke up from the couch.

Cassidy lifted a brow at Deacon. “You made brownies with prunes? Things really have changed in a month.” It wasn’t that prunes were completely out of the norm for Deacon. He regarded his body as a temple and rarely put anything processed in it, but he also wasn’t one for sweets generally. He focused more on macronutrients and desserts rarely fit in his plan.

Deacon shrugged. “I thought I could slip some healthy desserts in on these guys. Keep them a little trimmer in the middle if you know what I mean.” He patted his rock-hard abs.

“Might have worked too, if you hadn’t eaten them as well,” Bubba said with a deep laugh. “That was clue number one they had to be healthy. You really couldn’t taste the prunes though, but man did they wreak havoc on my insides later.”

“Okay, enough of that,” Cassidy said shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut. The image of a run on the bathroom was not the visual she wanted to have of her fellow firemen.

“Cassidy, oh my gosh, I’m so glad you’re back.”

Cassidy would have recognized Ivy’s voice anywhere. Not only was she the only other woman in the firehouse, but her voice held just the slightest valley girl twang. On anyone else it might have been annoying, but Ivy was wholesomely sweet, down to earth, and as cute as a button. Her blond hair perfectly framed her heart-shaped face, and big blue eyes sat above a ski-sloped nose that contained no trace of freckles, unlike Cassidy’s.

Ivy attacked her with a hug before Cassidy was ready and the gesture jostled her full arms sending the contents flying to the floor. Ivy’s eyes widened as she released Cassidy and her petite hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I was just so excited to see you. You don’t know how awful it’s been being the only woman here for the last month.” She dropped to the floor to help Cassidy pick up the hats.

Ivy was teasing mostly, but Cassidy had been at the firehouse before Ivy arrived, and she remembered how hard it was being the only female. “Don’t worry about it. They’re just silly hats, and I’m sorry I left you high and dry.”

“Marcel? Is that you?”

Cassidy froze at the stern sound of her captain’s voice. Having been recently promoted, Captain Darryl Fitzgerald was now all business. Every rule needed to be followed to the letter and the teasing shut down when he was around. She snatched the hat and stood. “Good morning, Captain, what can I do for you?”

“You can follow me to my office. We need to have a chat.”

“Of course, sir.” Cassidy fought the anxiety clawing at her throat. Captain Fitzgerald was intimidating, but she had just returned. She couldn’t have done anything too bad. Maybe it was about the hats. She would explain that the guys were just razzing her a little and then take them to her car so they were out of sight.

Cassidy’s anxiety increased when Captain Fitzgerald shut the door to his office behind her. Closed door meetings rarely held a good outcome. “Have I done something, sir?” She hated the slight tremble in her voice, but she knew he controlled her future and she loved her job.

“Sit.” He pointed at one of the chairs opposite his desk and then walked to his own chair and sat down. “I know that you had time saved up for this trip, but I need someone I can rely on in this firehouse.”

“I understand, sir, and I have no intention of going anywhere else anytime soon.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “That is good to hear, but to be sure, I am placing you back on probation. You’ll have cleaning duty for the next month, and I want that truck sparkling at the end of every shift. Is that clear?”

Cassidy had no idea if he had the power to do that since she technically had done nothing wrong, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. She loved this job and this house. No way did she want to go back to being a floater, so if he wanted her to wash the truck every day, she would do it. If he wanted to put her on kitchen duty, she would do that too even though her cooking left a lot to be desired. “Crystal clear, sir. I promise I am committed to this job and will do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

“Perfect, now we should discuss the mail situation.” He steepled his fingers and regarded her with a cool stare.

She furrowed her brow, confused as to what he could mean. “I’m sorry, the what?”

His eyebrow inched up his forehead. “You don’t know?” Cassidy shook her head. “It appears you garnered a few fans while you were gallivanting on your show, and as they didn’t know where you lived, they dropped your mail here.”

Cassidy winced and bit the inside of her lip. No wonder he was angry. “I had no idea, sir. I’m so sorry.”

He waved a hand dismissing her. “It is what it is, but I want them gone from the firehouse at the end of your shift.”

“Of course sir. Um, where are they?”

He nodded to the corner of the room. Cassidy turned and spied a large brown bag that she hadn’t noticed when they entered. Roughly the size of a burlap sack, it bulged and protruded as wide as appeared possible. “All of that is for me?”

“Yep, letters, gifts, you name it. I suggest you find a better place for it.”

“Yes sir.” Cassidy pulled her shoulders back as she faced the mountainous bag. Since shift had just started, she might as well drag it to the bunk room and go through it while there was time. She didn’t need all of this cluttering her small house either.

The bag proved unwieldy but thankfully just enough extra sack remained at the top that she was able to drag it down the hallway and into the bunk room. Meant generally for sleeping when they worked long shifts, the bunk room held rows and rows of two beds separated by half walls. A small table that held a lamp sat between each two-bed section.

She and Ivy shared the section at the very back of the room, and sweat rolled down Cassidy’s spine as she dragged the bag to the bunk she normally slept in. With a sigh and an exhalation, she plopped down on the bunk and opened the bag. If Santa had been real, she would know exactly how he felt. She grabbed one of the envelopes and opened it.

“Dear Cassidy, I saw you on the show, and I think we’d make a great couple. I love horses and roller skating. You can call me at 555-1324. Signed, David. P.S. If a woman answers, it’s just my mom.”

Cassidy shook her head and laid the letter to the side. No need to keep that one. She wanted a man established enough that he lived on his own or maybe with a roommate. Rent wasn’t cheap in the city, but moms were a no go. With a sigh, she reached into the bag again. It was going to be a long afternoon.

**

Jordan issued his apology as he hurried into the office. “Sorry I’m late. We were helping with a drug bust.”

“Of course you were,” Graham said with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s no problem, Jordan, we were just getting started.” Mr. Keyes, their father’s attorney adjusted his tie before placing his hands on either side of a stack of papers. “I’m sure you know that I called you in today for a reading of your father’s will. Most of it is rather straightforward, but there is something I wasn’t sure you were aware of.” He picked up the top sheet of paper and scanned it before flipping it around to them. “Did you know your father owned a bar?”

“A bar?” Graham asked leaning forward.

“That’s not possible. Dad was an alcoholic. Why would he own a bar?” Jordan asked.

“It hasn’t been a bar in a long time. I drove by the other day, so I would have current information for you both. It appears to be boarded up currently.” He pulled a picture from the stack and slid it across the table to Graham who glanced at it before handing it to Jordan.

“So, we should just try and sell it, right?” Jordan asked. He had no use for a bar or the rundown building in the picture.

“No, we can’t sell it. Dad obviously kept the bar for a reason,” Graham said.

“He probably just forgot he owned it and therefore forgot to sell it. What would we do with an old building?”

Mr. Keyes said nothing but moved his head from one brother to the next as they argued.

“What would we do?” Graham turned in his chair to face Jordan. “We fix it up, give it new life, take it back to how it once was.”

Jordan shook his head. “I have no time to fix up a bar. And what about the money? Did Dad leave any money to fix this bar?”

“Your father left you the proceeds from the sale of the house and he had a few stocks and bonds, but it isn’t much.”

“See? It isn’t much. Probably not enough to fix up an old bar.”

Graham folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not selling. Dad could have sold the building years ago, and he didn’t. That tells me it meant something to him, so I’m going to restore it with or without you.”

Jordan turned fierce eyes on the lawyer. “Can he do that? Can he make me keep it?”

Mr. Keyes shrugged. “He could offer to buy you out, but there is no stipulation that he has to sell.”

Before he could say anything else, Jordan’s phone buzzed. He swiped the screen, shook his head, and stood. “I have to go, but this isn’t over. We are going to discuss this Graham.”

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Chapter 1

Laney Swann clutched her designer bag tighter as she weaved in and out of the crowded sidewalk. Why did the crowd have to be so thick today, on the one day she overslept? Normally, she was out the door by six am giving her plenty of time to get uptown, stop at the coffee shop, and make it to work by eight, but sleep had eluded her last night, and she’d slept through her alarm. Now, she was paying the price.

She flipped her delicate silver watch around so she could read the face and quickened her pace. She was going to be so late, and Victoria Bonavich detested tardiness. It was a fireable offense in her book if you stepped in the office even a minute late, and Laney couldn’t afford to lose this job. She’d moved to the city with big dreams but a small savings after college. If she lost this job, there would be no paying her rent, and she’d have to go home.

“Watch it,” a man’s voice cried out as she squeezed between him and another man with a cell phone glued to his ear.

“Sorry,” she called back, but her head never turned. Turning around would cost her precious seconds and she had none to spare.

A tendril of blond hair appeared in her vision and she blew it off her forehead. Great. Now, not only was she late, but her hair was eeking out of its hair sprayed mold, another issue she would have to remedy before seeing Madame Bonavich or The Maneater as they called her in the office.

The woman was fearsome. With short grey hair, hawkish eyes, and thin lips that rarely smiled, she exuded a no-nonsense air whereever she went, but Laney enjoyed working for her. She had learned so much in the six months she had been there even though she was still just an unknown office worker to Madame Bonavich. At least she had gotten promoted to coffee bearer the last month. It gave her a chance to interact with The Maneater if only for a minute.

However, today, it could be her downfalling. She had only fifteen minutes to obtain the coffee and get to the office, and it wasn’t looking good.

“Excuse me,” she said as she pushed through another clump of pedestrians. Why did it seem as if people walked slower and in clumped groups whenever she was in a hurry? The busy city was always like this, she knew that, but her need to move quicker exaggerated the normal bustling bog and edged her anxiety up another notch.

At last the coffee shop came into view. Her feet ached already from the rigorous pace she had set the moment she stepped out of her door. The four inch heels were a requirement in the office, and though Laney agreed they added style to her outfit, her feet were not fans. They screamed for a nightly soak, and she had purchased so much Epsom Salt in the last few months that she really ought to buy stock in the company.

A sigh billowed out of her lips as she pulled open the door. At least four other people stood in line. Laney bit her lip and checked her watch again. Thirteen minutes remained. The impatient tapping of her foot garnered a few irritated stares, but Laney didn’t care.

The man in front of her turned around. “You appear to be in an awful hurry. Would you like to take my spot?”

“Could I? That would be amazing.” Laney stepped in front of the man, but remained facing him. He had the most amazing eyes. “My boss is a little bit of a time manager, if you know what I mean.”

The man said nothing, just raised an eyebrow at her, but Laney couldn’t shut her mouth. Perhaps it was his beautiful blue eyes – she had always been a sucker for blue eyes.

“Normally, it’s not an issue, but I couldn’t sleep last night – just tossed and turned, so when my alarm clock went off, I guess I didn’t hear it. Though I must have turned it off because it wasn’t still going off when I did finally wake up. Sadly, by then, I was running late, and now I’m in danger of incurring her wrath.” Laney paused as the man’s lips pulled into a smirk. “What?”

He pointed behind her toward the register. “I believe it’s your turn to order.”

“Oh, right, thank you.” A heated flush crawled up her face as she turned to face the woman behind the counter. She had made a fool of herself with the handsome man behind her. Why did her mouth always seem to run unchecked whenever she was nervous?

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, just a second.” Laney cleared her throat and forced her mind to focus. She could berate herself later.  “I need a tall caramel macchiato and-” she shook her head. Even after a month, she didn’t have Madame Bonavish’s order memorized, but who could blame her? It had to be the longest order she had ever seen. “Sorry, just a second.” Her fingers rifled in her purse until they touched a folded piece of paper. She pulled it out and unfolded it. “A double ristretto venti half soy nonfat organic chocolate brownie iced vanilla double shot gingerbread frappuccino extra hot with foam upside down double blended, one Sweet N Low and one Nutrasweet.”

The cashier blinked at her as a momentary shell-shocked expression covered her face. Then composure set in and she rang up the order and picked up two cups. Laney felt sorry for the woman. All she had to do was read off an order, but this woman had to put that nonsense on a cup in a way that the barista making the coffee would understand. Not for the first time, Laney wondered if Madame Bonavich ordered this drink because she enjoyed it or because she relished putting others through the ringer.

When the bill was paid, Laney continued down the line to stand at the other end where drinks were handed out. She kept her eyes on the floor to avoid seeking out the nice man again. He didn’t need another verbal diatribe from her.

Nine more minutes. She was going to be cutting it so close. The office was just around the corner, but her high heels kept her from running, so she’d have to opt for long strides and hope for the best.

“Caramel Macchiato and gingerbread frap,” the barista called as she placed the two drinks down.

“Thank you.” Laney flashed the woman an apologetic smile as she grabbed the drinks.

As she pushed open the door, she realized she should have asked for a tray. A cup in each hand made it nearly impossible to adjust her purse strap which kept threatening to slip off her shoulder with every step. Unable to stop, Laney adjusted her body throwing her right shoulder as high into the air as she could with hopes that gravity would keep it there.

She must look a sight, hunched over to one side, and Madame Bonavich would ream her if she saw her, but it was either this or arrive late with the woman’s coffee. Laney honestly didn’t know which would be worse.

A sigh of relief issued from her mouth as the office came into view. There was no way she could chance looking at her watch, but she figured she had a few minutes to spare. However, she also had a conundrum. How was she going to open the door? She hated taking the chance, but stacking one cup on top of the other appeared to be the quickest option.

Before she could change her mind, she set the venti on top of her cup and secured it with her chin. Then she reached for the door handle, but as her fingertips brushed the cold metal, the door swung open.

The force knocked her backwards. Her chin lifted from the lid of the cup, and without something to secure it, it teetered. Laney watched in slow motion horror as the cup not only fell off its perch but onto her chest. The lid popped off and flew through the air as the contents of the drink spilled down Laney’s front.

Her body finally unfroze when the searing hot liquid broached her skin. Laney jumped even farther back sending the venti cup crashing to the pavement.

“I’m so sorry. Can I help?”

Anger flared in her stomach and Laney flicked her eyes up to take in the perpetrator before she let loose her vitriol on him. However, the flame fizzled at the sight of the young man with glasses who stood gaping at her. His wide eyes held an apology and his baby face placed his age in his early twenties – probably a college intern. She swallowed the harsh words she almost barked at him. If she’d had Madame Bonavich’s coffee order written down anywhere else, she would give him the paper and tell him to go replace the coffee. It would be late, but perhaps late was better than never, but she didn’t.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” She didn’t know how exactly. The only option she had was giving Madame Bonavich her drink which probably wouldn’t sit well with the woman. She could only hope she was in a good mood.

“Again I’m so sorry.” The man ducked his head and scurried away looking very much like a scolded puppy with its tail between its legs.

Laney spared one glance at her formerly white shirt now stained brown and sighed. Now she was late, she didn’t have the woman’s coffee, and she looked like a slob. These were not the makings of a good day.

Chapter 2

Tyler Hall stared at the woman across the table from him as if she were a stranger and not the woman he’d been dating for the last six months. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She let out an exasperated sigh and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I’m leaving, Tyler. I thought I could handle this, that it might be fun, but there is nothing to do in this town, and I’m bored. You work all day and you don’t even drink-”

Anger flared within Tyler and he interrupted her, “I told you why I don’t drink.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “I know, you don’t drink because you’re a recovering alcoholic, but I’m not. I’m twenty-six years old, and I want to have a little fun.”

“I’m fun.” Tyler couldn’t believe this was happening again. “I have fun.”

“Hanging out with your friend Aaron and his wife is not my idea of fun. I mean it’s fine for them to stay home and play scrabble – they’re married – but I want to do more. I want to go out and not worry if I have a drink.”

Or a few drinks, Tyler thought to himself. He should have known when he met Amber at the social. She’d been tipsy that night but had assured him it was only because it was her friend’s birthday. They’d avoided drinks after that, but lately Amber had insisted they go out to eat instead of eating at his ranch, and she’d ordered a drink every time. “I’ve never stopped you from drinking.”

“No, you haven’t, but it hasn’t made me feel any less guilty, and I don’t want to feel guilty.” She reached across the table and took ahold of his hand. “We’re just not right for each other, Tyler. Surely you know that.”

He glanced down at their hands. Yes, he did know that. He’d noticed her distancing herself in the last month, and it wasn’t like this was new to him. HIs last three relationships had ended similarly. Still, he never seemed to be prepared when the words left their mouths. He eased his hand out of her grip and leaned back. “You’re right, Amber. We aren’t right for each other.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. A twenty should be enough to cover his meal. She could pay for her own. He dropped the twenty on the table and pushed back his chair. “I wish you the best.”

Her eyes widened and her demeanor shifted. “You don’t have to leave right now, Tyler. At least eat.” She glanced around the crowded restaurant, but kept her voice low.

“I’m no longer hungry, Amber, but that should cover my order.”

“Tyler.” Her voice held an angry hiss, but she still didn’t raise her volume. Probably she hoped he would come back and not make a scene, but he was tired of doing what everyone else wanted.

The cool air matched his mood as he stepped out of the restaurant and walked toward his truck. Lights from a nearby bar called to him, but he ignored them. Aaron. He needed to see Aaron. That would calm him down and keep him from drinking. He’d been sober long before Amber, and he was determined to remain that way after her.

“So, what happened?” Aaron asked as he flipped over the ribs he’d been cooking when Tyler arrived.

Tyler pulled his coat tighter and leaned closer to the warmth emanating from the grill. “Amber and I broke up. Or she broke up with me, rather.”

“Man, I’m sorry. You’ve had rough luck with women lately.” Aaron closed the grill lid to give the meat a little more heat.

Tyler scoffed. “Yeah, rough doesn’t really begin to describe it.” His last three girlfriends had all said similar things. They loved him, but they needed excitement or someone with more drive. Tyler had drive, but his drive was focused on his rance – keeping it afloat and obtaining more cattle. They just didn’t understand his drive, and part of that was because two of the last three had been city girls thinking they wanted a change but realizing later the country was not the change the sought. Dierdre had been a country girl, but it turned out she wanted to try the other side as well. She’d left him for a lawyer in a big city.

“Maybe you should go on that reality show that Nancy watches. Marry a Cowboy or something like that.”

A deep chuckle issued from Tyler’s throat. “Yeah, that’s what I need – the whole world knowing I can’t keep a girl around.”

“No, I’m serious. Don’t tell anyone, but Nancy made me watch an episode with her. I think it was the first one. They brought in like thirty beautiful women for this guy to choose from.”

“A beautiful outside isn’t everything.” Tyler hated it when people only focused on outer appearances. Yeah, it was necessary to be attracted to the other person, but beauty faded. Personality was way more important to Tyler.

“But it never hurts. Anyway, they pay for the dates and you get to know the women. Maybe it’s worth a try. Widen the pool as it were.”

“Can you imagine me on television?” The thought sent Tyler laughing and Aaron quickly joined in.

“What’s so funny?” Nancy had snuck up on them and now stood looking from one man to the other.

“Aaron thinks I should try to be a contestant on some reality dating show,” Tyler said as his laugh faded.

Nancy’s eyes widened to the size of half dollars. “Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Aaron said as his own laughter fizzled. “Amber broke up with him.”

Nancy’s smile faded and her forehead wrinkled in a sympathetic expression. “Oh, Tyler, I’m so sorry to hear that, but I think you would be great on the show. From what I understand you fill out a survey and they find women that match what you like. It might be a great opportunity to meet women you wouldn’t normally.”

Tyler chuffed as he looked from Aaron to Nancy. He’d known Aaron since high school and Nancy since just after graduation. There was a time they were clearly separate people but after being married for a decade, it was harder to tell where Nancy ended and Aaron began. “You two sound so alike.” Tyler shook his head. Would he ever find a love like Nancy and Aaron had?

“I’m serious. In fact, I’m going to go look up the requirements right now. I’m sure it’s easy.” Before either man could say a word, Nancy spun and disappeared into the house.

“Why do I have the feeling that I’m going to be auditioning whether I like it or not?” Tyler asked as he leaned back against the porch railing.

“Because you know my wife.” Aaron grinned and opened the grill to check the meat.

That he did. Nancy was a determined woman and she almost always accomplished whatever she set out to do.

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The Prologue

“Kat, honey, what are you doing?” Leah had just laid her two-year old daughter down for the night, but the girl kept tilting her head to look around Leah.

“Trying to see Jesus.” Kat smiled matter-of-factly as she looked up at the ceiling. As if this were a common occurrence.

Leah followed her gaze but all she saw was the smoke detector attached to the ceiling. “I don’t see anything, honey.”

“Jesus is right there, Mommy. Don’t you see him?” Kat’s green eyes were wide and round beneath her dark curls.

“I don’t honey.” Leah tried to keep her voice even as she shook her head. She didn’t want her daughter to know she was afraid of her seeing visions. This wasn’t the first time she had claimed to see Jesus.

The first time, Jesus had been on the hall ceiling as they were heading out to church.

“Are you ready, munchkin?” Leah scooped up her daughter who giggled as she flew through the air. “You ready to go to church?”

Kat’s curls bobbed as she nodded.

“And do you love Jesus?”

Kat’s tiny mouth pulled into a large smile and she pointed to the corner of the ceiling. “Uh huh. Hi, Jesus.” She waved her little hand, the same way she waved to Leah whenever she dropped her off with the nanny.

Leah brushed it off as a two-year old’s imagination. “Do you see Jesus up there?” Kat nodded again and Leah kissed her on the cheek. “Well, that’s nice. I wish I could see Jesus like you do.”

The second time, Jesus appeared in the corner of Kat’s ceiling as Leah was reading her a story.

“Honey, where are you going? The story isn’t finished yet.”

Leah watched as Kat toddled over to the small area between the closed bedroom door and the closet. She pointed her tiny hand up at the ceiling. “Hi, Jesus.” Then she held up her bunny as if offering the stuffed toy to someone. “No?” She lowered the bunny and looked around the room. Then she grabbed a book, returned to the spot, and held it up. “No? Okay.” She returned to Leah and climbed back onto her lap to finish the story. “He doesn’t want bunny.”

Leah forced a tight-lipped smile across her face. Was her daughter really seeing Jesus or was this the natural young child imagination at work?

Tonight, Jesus was in a different place. He was still on the ceiling but now firmly over the foot of Kat’s bed instead of by her bedroom door. While Leah hoped her daughter was seeing Jesus, she couldn’t dismiss the possibility that she was seeing something else and that bothered her. “Can you tell me what he looks like?”

“He’s wearing white, but he’s not talking to Bunny.” Kat held up her stuffed bunny – the one that went everywhere with her. Once a soft pink color, time and dirt had worn the plush animal to a dull grey color now.

“Does he talk to you?” Leah supposed she should be relieved that whatever Kat was seeing was wearing white and not black, but the fact he didn’t talk struck her as odd. If Kat was seeing Jesus, wouldn’t he tell her how much he loved her or something like that? Leah was a religious person. She believed in God, but she’d never seen God or heard him speak to her.

“He’s not talking right now.”

“Is he smiling?” She was trying not to ask leading questions, but it was hard with a two-year-old who was just now putting sentences together. Leah wished she could see what her daughter was seeing to make sure it was safe.

“Mommy, who’s that?”

Leah followed the tiny index finger pointing to the top of Kat’s closet. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t see anything.” A cold stone settled in Leah’s stomach. It was one thing to be seeing Jesus, but now she was seeing something else too? What was wrong with her daughter? She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke again. “Here, let’s get to sleep. We’ll see Jesus in the morning.”

She whipped the blanket up and let it fall until it covered Kat completely, another thing Leah found odd. Most of her friends said their children were afraid of the dark, but Kat wanted to be under the blanket. It had to cover her head and her toes. Leah wondered if the visions were why Kat wanted her head covered. Though not simultaneous, they had started at similar times.

Leah sat in the rocker in Kat’s room until she heard the rhythmic cadence of breathing signaling her sleep; then she tiptoed out of the room and to the master bedroom down the hall. Her Bible lay on her nightstand, where she kept it to remind her to read every night, and she picked it up before sinking to her knees on the floor.

She clutched the Bible against her chest and turned her head heavenward. “Lord, please protect my daughter. I don’t know what she is seeing, but please protect her.” That was all Leah could get out before the tears ran down her cheeks. She had waited so long for her baby girl, and now she was terrified that either something was wrong with her or that something would happen to her.

Chapter 1: Thirty years later, Saturday in Olympia, Washington

Dr. Kat Jameson dropped her head into her hands. She hadn’t specialized in pediatric oncology for this reason. No one should get cancer, but it was worse when it was a child. Children had their whole life ahead of them, and they came in with small faces and tiny hands. Hands that always seemed to wind their way around Kat’s heart.

Thankfully, she’d only had a few child patients in the year she had been practicing on her own, and they had all gone into remission, but this time was different. Cade had brain cancer. It was harder to treat and almost impossible to operate on.

A knock on her door grabbed Kat’s attention. She looked up to see Micah Gibson, a fellow doctor at the hospital in her door frame. His blue eyes held more concern than usual as he caught her gaze. “Heard you have a tough case right now.”

Kat sighed. “Yeah, a ten-year-old boy whose favorite superhero is Wolverine. I almost wish I could give this kid adamantium, so he could heal himself. Our treatments don’t seem to be doing much.”

Micah cocked an eyebrow as he continued into her small office and sat across from her. “I didn’t know you were an X-Men fan.”

“That’s what you got from my statement?” Kat didn’t know Micah well, but she hadn’t thought he was this insensitive.

His expression softened and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood. So, this patient? You’ve tried everything?”

Kat nodded. “Almost. We started with diet because his mom wanted to avoid radiation. When that did nothing, we moved on to proton therapy. He’s taking it well, but the tumor just isn’t shrinking.”

“So, you’ve tried everything you know medically?”

Kat nodded.

“Have you tried praying?”

His words took her off guard, and she blinked at him. “I didn’t realize you were religious.”

“I’m not, but I am a Christ follower.” He leaned forward, placing his hands on her desk. “I honestly don’t know how doctors can see the miracles we see and not believe in God. Can you?”

Kat wasn’t sure what to say. She considered herself a believer though she didn’t get to church as often as she once had. Before med school, she had gone every Sunday and even sung in her church choir, but then she’d needed the time to study. When she’d finished med school, she’d had residency which also took up a lot of time. Even now that she was in her own practice, work filled six days of her week, and Sunday was generally her one day off. Still, she attended when she could.

“Anyhow, I’ll let you get back to work, but I’ll be praying for your patient.” Micah stood and turned to the door, but before he left, he turned back to Kat. “And you.” Then he tapped her door frame and disappeared down the hall.

Prayer. Kat knew she should do more of that, but she’d never seen a prayer answered. And she’d felt no kind of response when she prayed, so it too had fallen to the side. She prayed at church, but that was only because someone on the stage prompted it. And some nights before she fell asleep, but if she were honest, that prayer was more from habit than actually speaking to God. Yes, she should pray more, but right now she needed something else.

A drink. That’s what Kat needed. She wasn’t a big drinker, more the type to be the designated driver so she could watch other people get silly and stupid, but tonight she needed something. Something to take the edge off. Something to calm her nerves. Something to help clear her head so she didn’t have visions of Cade’s boyish face haunting her dreams.

Kat turned off her computer and grabbed her purse. She had a few charts to look over, but they could wait another day. Or until Monday.

As she passed the receptionist, Kat paused. A strange feeling that she should thank the woman for something flashed through her thoughts, but she couldn’t for the life of her think of what. The woman did a fine job, but nothing exceptional. Chalking it up as nothing important, Kat shook her head and continued out of the hospital and to her car.

Her phone buzzed as she pulled into the parking lot of a nearby bar. Kat swiped the screen and sighed as she read Stella’s message.

See you at church tomorrow?

Kat wasn’t sure she felt up to church tomorrow. Today had been rough, and if she drank too much, tomorrow morning would be even rougher. However, Stella being her best friend and being Stella, she didn’t seem to care that Sunday was Kat’s day off. She always reminded Kat of church and when Kat missed too many times, Stella would play the Maddie card. Maddie was Stella’s daughter, and she knew Kat would do anything for that strawberry blonde five-year-old.

I’ll try. Bad day at work.

Kat shoved the phone back in her purse before Stella could respond. Stella would not approve of her method of easing the pain and would try to talk her out of going in, but tonight Kat just wanted not to think. She wanted to drown her sorrows and ponder at the cruelty of the universe.

Kat locked her car and walked up the short sidewalk to the front entrance. The peeling paint and faded signage gave her a moment’s pause. Could she trust the drinks flowing inside if the exterior of the place was in such need of repair? Deciding she didn’t care, Kat gripped the solid handle, pulled the door open, and stepped into the dimly lit establishment.

The bar was mostly empty. A few couples sat in the darkened vinyl booths trading secrets and licentious glances. Kat chose a barstool instead, a few down from the one other bar customer – a portly man perched at the end of the sticky mahogany bar, nursing a beer and probably avoiding going home alone.

Kat signaled the bartender and ordered a Tequila Sunrise. She took a sip and then turned the glass in a slow circle as her thoughts collided in her head.

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on those shoulders.”

Kat glanced up at the bartender who stared her direction as he wiped a cloth across the bar. Though young, his head was bald, but the hint of color on the sides told her he shaved at least part of it. Somehow, it worked on him. The dimple in his cheek softened the harsh lines of the chiseled face that was still visible under a dark stubble, and his crooked smile gave him an air of jocularity.

Any other night, Kat would have been flattered by his obvious flirtation and might have even left him her number, but tonight she wanted to be left alone. “You could say that.” She kept most of the edge out of her voice, though by the bartender’s reaction, not enough.

He let out a low whistle, and she forced her eyes back to her drink. Maybe if she ignored him, he would just leave her alone to sate her frustration with the alcohol. Lifting the glass, she tilted her head back and let the remaining liquid burn down her throat.

“When I feel like that, it always helps me to hit things.” He had not taken her subtle hint and was now standing in front of her. She could see pale flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

“How very destructive of you.” Her manicured finger tapped the glass as she debated asking for another.

“No, not like that.” His laugh was rather melodious and brought a sparkle to his eyes. “I’m a kickboxer, so hitting the bag is cathartic to me. Seems like it might be for you too right now.”

Kat kept silent, unsure of what to say, but she let her eyes wander over the rest of his body. He could be a fighter. He had the right build, lean but not too thin and sculpted arms.

“Look, I teach at a gym nearby during the week. Why don’t you come by and see if hitting something doesn’t give you some reprieve from whatever you’re feeling?” He slipped a white card out of his pocket and slid it across the bar to her.

She held his gaze another moment before dropping her eyes to the card. It was white with black lettering, simple but still eye-catching with the black boxing gloves gracing the corner. “The Academy of Brian Johnson?”

“I know, not the most original name. I didn’t name it, the owner did, but it’s a good work out. Bring that card in, and I’ll make sure you get a week for free to try it out.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about it.” Kat pocketed the card and then pushed her glass forward. “Can I get another?”

The man’s eyebrow rose as he regarded her with narrowed eyes, but he pulled out the tequila bottle and filled her glass again.

When the second glass was empty, Kat pushed a twenty across the bar and stood to leave. However, the room spun and she grabbed the counter for support.

“Hey, I don’t think you should be driving. Let me call you a cab.”

Kat focused on the bartender and took a deep breath. The room righted itself and she pulled her shoulders back and held up a hand. “I’m fine. I don’t live far. Thank you for the drinks.” Before he could say anything else, Kat made her way to the exit cursing her low tolerance.

The cool night air sobered her a little more and Kat remembered she had eaten nothing since lunch. No wonder two drinks were hitting her so hard. Thankfully, she always kept a few granola bars in her car as she often missed dinner and had to eat on the run. She’d eat one and sit in the car until she felt able to drive. While she lived nearby, she had no intention of causing an accident or getting a DUI. Either could ruin her career.

She climbed into the car, but didn’t start the engine. Leaning over, Kat popped open the glove compartment and snatched a bar, peeling back the wrapper and taking a large bite. Then she fished in her purse for her phone. Might as well see what Stella said in response.

Want to pray about it?

Kat chuckled at the irony. What was it with everyone and prayer today?

**

“This is the one God has chosen?” Afriel asked his superior. He was still learning the gauntlet of how to navigate the world of mortals and how to avoid the demons.

Galadriel’s smile was soft, as if he knew Afriel wasn’t questioning him, just trying to learn all he could. “God has plans for Kat. He has since she was little, but she has not been open to listening to him since her father left. Maybe she will be now.”

“How can that be?” Afriel asked. “Isn’t she a Christian? Doesn’t she believe in God?”

Galadriel smiled, but sadness laced it. “There are many who call themselves Christians, and even more who believe in God, but few of them take the time to seek his voice. Perhaps if they did, things could be different.

Buy Now!

Chapter 1

DING!

As Brent glanced at the display, a stream of curses tumbled out of his mouth. This was the last thing he needed. The check engine light gleamed, its orange glow mocking him for not taking the car into the shop last month for its regular inspection. Usually, he was a stickler for those things, but he had just finished filming a movie and his most recent breakup, Tricia, had been blowing up his phone since the breakup. It was only natural that a small thing like car maintenance had slipped his mind.

And the timing was impeccable, of course. The last major city was approximately ten miles back, and nothing but sagebrush passed by his window now. Dusty, dirty, yellow and brown sagebrush. Why had he thought going to a cabin in the middle of nowhere would help him relax? Oh, right, it had been Julia’s idea.

Julia had been his agent for years, so he knew better than to argue with her when she told him he needed to get away and take some time to regroup. It hadn’t really been his fault he lost it with the most recent director. The script had been terrible, and Brent was tired of roles that held no substance. But, he should have rented a cabin in the mountains or the penthouse of some nice hotel on the beach. With his money, he could have afforded either and been closer to humanity. But no, Julia had insisted a cabin out in the middle of nowhere would be preferable.

“Come on, baby,” he urged the Porsche, hoping they had a good enough relationship she would get him to the next town. The size didn’t even matter as long as it had a working phone. His cell phone had lost reception after the last big town. A mechanic wouldn’t hurt either.

“Stella, if you get me to the next town, I promise I’ll take you to the best shop when we return.” Brent had named her Stella after the girl he had been dating at the time – a high maintenance ex-girlfriend. The girl, a penthouse owning, designer wearing, Tiffany’s lover hadn’t lasted, but the car had, until now.

His hands glided over the grey leather covered steering wheel, sending positive energy and good thoughts to Stella. Perhaps his touch would spur her to limp another two miles to… what was the name on the last sign? Soda Spurs? An odd name for a town, but in Podunk Texas, he expected no less.

But, it was not to be. With a final stutter and a plume of blue smoke, Stella died on the side of Farm Market Road 1276. He glared at the asinine GPS that had recommended this shortcut in the first place and sighed. He should have stayed on the major highway. The city traffic was terrible, but at least a city would have guaranteed a tow truck and a mechanic in case of the unexpected. Now, he was stranded in the middle of nowhere with a hot, two-mile walk ahead of him.

As he popped the hood—hoping she had simply overheated and would work when she cooled down—more smoke billowed out from underneath. Brent was no mechanic, but smoke was never a good thing and probably meant a major fix. He checked the phone one more time in hopes the gods would show him pity, but it had no bars. Useless! It landed on the passenger seat as he swung open the car door.

The oppressive heat sent beads of sweat trickling down his back. Brent hated being sweaty unless he was at the gym. Even then, he always kept a towel close by. Salty stings in his eye while lifting heavy weights was not only annoying but dangerous.

He wiped a hand across his face before waving the smoke away and peering under the hood. A series of black and silver tubish things stared back at him, looking like a puzzle in a foreign language. He was not a car guy. Brent liked fancy cars – driving them, owning them, showing off in them, but he didn’t care how they worked—that was why he paid other people. It was one of the many benefits of having money.

With a raised hand to shield his eyes, he scanned the road. Nothing but brown—unmoving, silent brown. A dirt plume at least would have meant a car was coming, but no dirt stirred along the road. He slammed the hood down.

With a heavy sigh, Brent snatched his worthless iphone from the passenger seat, and jammed it back in his pocket. What good was having the latest technology if there were still parts of the state that had terrible service? Perhaps he needed to see about buying a few cell towers. There was a chance there would be cell reception in Soda Spurs though he doubted it.

Brent glanced into the backseat of the car to see if he needed to grab anything else, but there was nothing worth stealing there except his travel bag and it really only held his clothes and toiletries.

A final thought urged him to grab the lukewarm bottle of water from the cup holder. His mouth turned down in disgust at the thought of swigging the warm liquid, but it was all he had.

After locking Stella, he flashed her one more longing glance and began the trek. The dust from the road soon covered his expensive black loafers, turning them an ashy color. He would have to purchase new ones when he returned to civilization.

Sweat pasted his short dark hair to his head, and beads ran in little rivulets down his back and sides. Stains developed under his arms, and the heat rolled his shoulders forward. He would be sore tomorrow, but he pushed on.

Relief flooded him as the first signs of life appeared. Small run-down houses dotted the side of the road. The faded paint on them crackled and curled, and the boarded windows kept their secrets locked inside. His gold Rolex told him he had been walking for eighteen minutes though it felt much longer.

Another few minutes yielded a green sign welcoming him to Soda Spurs, TX. Population 5003. 5003? He sighed, certain that many people lived in a city block alone in Houston, but the houses looked a little newer, not expensive, but more cared for, which ignited a small sliver of hope. Newer paint and open windows allowed the light breeze to flow in and rustle the curtains.

He approached a blue house with white trim where a lone figure rocked in a chair on the porch. The gray of her hair suggested an elderly age, but her hands nimbly moved the needles she worked as the chair tilted forward and back. It emitted an odd creaking sound in the silence of the street.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Brent poured out the charm his mother had taught him to use at a young age. He didn’t have to use it as much now as people flocked to him because of his money, but he could still whip it out when necessary. “Can you tell me where I might find a phone or mechanic?”

She frowned at him, wrinkles crisscrossing her face, though the beauty underneath was still visible. In her youth, she must have broken hearts left and right. Her hands slowed as her eyes narrowed. Perhaps his charm had lost its touch, or else maybe his ragged appearance was causing her concern.

“I don’t mean to scare you, ma’am. My car broke down about two miles back, and I had to walk. Is there anyone in this town who can help me? A mechanic or a tow place or something.”

The stare continued another long minute before his answer seemed to satisfy her, and she leaned back in her rocker, needles clicking again. “Sam’s auto shop is up the way. Turn left at the gnarled tree.” Her leathery hand pointed to the right. “Norma’s is on the way. She’ll give you a bite to eat if you stop in. Tell her Fanny sent you.”

Her head dropped back to whatever she was making in her lap, and the rocker began its rhythmic motion again. Brent raised his hand in a thank you, wishing he had a cowboy hat to tip her direction. He hadn’t worn one in ages, not since leaving the small town he grew up in, but an image of his mother flustered and blushing as a man tipped his hat at her flashed into his mind. The cowboy hat held a mysterious power over some Texas women, and it would come in handy now.

Brent continued his trek, sighing in relief when a white building on the left caught his eye. It was more like a house than a business as only the small sign spelling Norma’s in faded red letters above the door told him this was the restaurant. Three cars filled spaces around the house. A glance around revealed no gnarled tree so he turned into Norma’s, hoping for better directions.

The cooler air smacked him as the door opened, sending a shiver racing along his spine. Two red booths and matching tables with red chairs filled most of the real estate in the room, which appeared to have once served as a dining room and living room.

The appearance outside had been deceptive as the inside was larger than he expected. Four stools, also upholstered in red fabric, sat in front of a large wooden bar. Rows of clear glasses lined several shelves behind the bar, and a drink dispenser that advertised Mr. Pibb and Mellow Yellow took up part of one wall. A cash register, the only newer contraption in the place, sat on the edge of the counter. At the far end of the room, a jukebox belted out an old country tune. Brent felt like he had traveled back in time.

All eyes in the place turned to him as the floor creaked beneath his feet, announcing his arrival. The room was not crowded. A man sat at the bar and a younger couple filled one booth. His eyes scanned the place, searching for the owner.

An older woman with short brown hair stepped out of the doorway he assumed led to the kitchen. A white towel was slung over her shoulder, and an apron, stained with many colors, hung on her waist.

“Can I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on the apron.

“Yes ma’am. My car broke down a few miles outside town. I’m hoping you have a phone I can use as I can’t get reception either.” He pasted his best smile across his face—the one that got him any woman he wanted back home.

“Ain’t got no phone, no use for one. Everyone here knows to come by if they need me.” The woman shook her head once before turning back toward the kitchen.

“Wait.” He stepped forward, his hand held out to her, though not too high. No sense in broadcasting his sweat stains. “I met Fanny, and she told me to find Norma. She also mentioned maybe Sam’s shop could help get my car fixed.”

Three pairs of eyes shifted from Brent back to the woman as if watching a slow-motion tennis match on TV.

A small grin tugged at Norma’s lips as she turned back. “Well, if Fanny sent you, you must be all right. Why don’t you sit, and I’ll get you something to eat?”

He had eaten in the last town at a nice restaurant with servers who wore black pants and white shirts and handed him a proper menu. The single sheet of paper kind attached to a hard background and filled with elegant writing. He doubted Norma’s even had a menu or if it did, it would be one of those laminated atrocities that would make a sticky, suction sound as you pried it open.

The steak and salad at the restaurant had filled him up, but his stomach rumbled at the idea of food. Perhaps a dessert and a cold drink would hit the spot. Snagging an empty barstool, he collapsed in it. “Do you have pie and iced tea, unsweetened?”

A tittering of laughter circled the room. “Do we have pie?” Norma asked placing her hands on her meaty hips. “Honey, we have apple pie, cherry pie, blueberry pie, pumpkin pie, and mincemeat pie.” She ticked the names off on her fingers. “Norma is known for her pie. Though considering Soda Spurs was founded on an apple orchard, people say my apple pie is the best.”

“You tell him, Norma,” the man in the far corner shouted, lifting his fork in the air in salute.

“I’ll have a slice of apple then.” Brent had never liked fruit pies, but there was no way he would pick something else and risk offending the woman.

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a large slice of apple pie on a white china plate. Tiny wisps of steam rose from the combination of cold whip cream against the warm crust, and the aroma of apples and cinnamon reached his nose before she even set the plate in front of him. Based on the smell, he feared the taste would be overpowering. A small silver fork appeared next to the plate, and then Norma stepped back, crossed her arms, and waited.

A furtive glance around revealed everyone in the room watching him. Nothing like tasting something with an audience hanging on your every move. He hoped it either would be fantastic or that he’d be able to maintain a poker face if it didn’t, for he believed they would throw him out if he showed any dislike for the pie. It was almost as if a stranger’s acceptance among this group hung on his or her reaction to the pie.

The fork slid through the dessert, and he raised it to his mouth. As the small portion hit his tongue, a burst of flavors exploded in his mouth. It was the best apple pie he had ever had, and his eyes widened in surprise. Cheers and clapping ensued as his lips turned up and he nodded before taking another bite. His reaction seemed to have appeased Norma as she then filled a cup with cold iced tea for him. Brent took a few long gulps before placing the cup back down. His throat felt as arid as the Sahara, but the cool liquid did its job.

“So, Fanny mentioned Sam’s. Is it much farther?” he asked between bites. He would regret finishing this pie the next time he hit the gym, but for now he didn’t care.

“Nah, it’s jest a little ways up past the gnarled tree,” the man to his right said. His denim overalls stretched across his large frame and a plain white t-shirt with visible sweat stains poked out. Day old stubble covered his face, and his hair was brown but thinning on top.

“Does it have a street name?”

“I reckon, but no one round here uses it, so I can’t rightly say I remember what it is.” He picked up a toothpick and chewed on it.

“Don’t mind Paul here.” Norma shot a look at the stout man. “This is the outskirts of Soda Spurs. The main town has street names. Sam’s is about a block up. If you get to Willow Street, you’ve gone too far.”

“Thanks.” He downed another gulp of tea and pushed the cleaned plate toward her. “How much do I owe you?”

Her hand flicked in dismissal. “First one’s on the house. I can’t have you passing out from hunger and dehydration. Marnie and Ernest would have my hide.”

Another laugh erupted, and Brent forced a smile though he did not understand what she meant. However, he knew from experience that small towns held many inside jokes.

“Well, thank you again.” His legs buckled as he stood and he had to grip the counter to remain standing. They were still a little rubbery from the long walk. The reprieve had been nice. When all the feeling came back into them, he raised his hand in a wave and headed out the door.

Scorching heat beat down on him again as he stepped out of the air-conditioned diner. He should have asked for a bottle of water, but it had sounded like this Sam’s place wasn’t much farther. Perhaps, he would have water.

As the gnarled tree came into view, Brent could see why they used it as a marker. It was grey and twisted as if cursed with some ancient magic, and nothing was around it. There was no street sign marker, so if it had a name, it was keeping it secret.

Down this street were a few houses, painted in tans and beiges. They almost blended into the background. Up ahead, the small converted shop appeared among the neighborhood houses. He couldn’t imagine the shop could hold more than one car at a time, but it probably didn’t need to. He hadn’t heard or seen a car driving in this town.

S A M‘ S was stenciled across the front door. As he pushed open the door, a bell jingled above his head announcing his arrival.

No one manned the cluttered counter, so he stepped into the large opening that led to the shop to the left. An old green Ford truck filled the space, and at the front of the truck, he spied two denim legs.

“Hello?” he asked. “I’m looking for Sam.”

The legs rolled out from under the car until the full person was exposed. His heart stalled in his chest. Sam was not the greasy male mechanic he expected, but a petite brunette, though she was sporting a grease smear across her cheek. Her dark blue jumpsuit was large and hung on her body, hiding the curves he imagined lay underneath.

“I’m Sam. What can I do for you?” She wiped her hand on a red towel she pulled from her pocket as she met his gaze. Her blue eyes reminded him of the sky when no clouds filled it.

“But … you’re a woman.” The shocked words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Her eyebrow inched up her forehead as her arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m a woman. You got a problem with that?”

He did, on so many levels. A woman could not possibly fix his Porsche, but he’d already ruffled her feathers. If nothing else, perhaps she would order whatever part he needed, and recommend a real mechanic.

Brent swallowed his pride and issued a lackluster apology.  “No, I’m sorry. It’s … I was expecting a man.” Her sky-blue eyes continued to glare at him, waiting for a better explanation. “My car broke down outside of town, and I was hoping you could fix it or order a part or something.”

Her gaze traveled the length of his body as if sizing him up. “What kind of car?”

“Porsche 911.”

A snort escaped her mouth. “Figures.”

Irritation flared within him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Figures you would drive such an uppity car. I could tell by the way you’re dressed.”

He bit his tongue to keep the reply he wanted to spew back at her in check. A few hasty generalizations on her outfit and the fact that she lived in this small town flooded his mind, but he needed her help. With great effort, he swallowed the vinegar and opted to pour out honey instead.

“You got me. I live in Houston, but I was hoping to get away from the noise and relax. Can you help me?” He flashed his best puppy dog eyes at her, hoping they would work as well on her as they had on other women.

“Fine. I’ll look at your snobby car. Follow me.”

With a quick spin, she led the way through a back door where a faded blue Chevy truck waited.

I need this book!

A look back:

As his arms circled her, William thought again how perfect a fit she was in them. He had never expected to fall in love with another woman after Catherine, but as he twirled the beautiful blond woman around, he knew he had done just that. Yet he wasn’t scared. In fact, he was exhilarated. The thought of a life with her filled him with excitement each day.

“You’re not a bad dancer,” Emma teased up at him.

“I’m actually a very good dancer,” he responded. “It just takes me a minute to warm up.”

“By the end of the night, I expect to be amazed then.”

He tightened his grip on her and pulled her closer. “I’m amazed every day I spend with you,” he whispered down at her.

A rosy pink color flooded her cheeks, and she shook her head. “Flattery will get you nowhere Mr. Cook.”

“Well, then how about this?” Though the music played on, he stopped moving and dropped to one knee. “Emma Stewart, you have reopened my heart to God and to love and for that I am truly thankful. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

A silence fell as the crowd around them realized what was happening. Even the music stopped. Emma glanced around before returning her gaze to him. “Of course I’ll marry you, William.”

Clapping and cheers erupted around them, but William barely heard them. He stood, scooping the woman he loved up and twirled her around. Though he had not thought it possible, he had finally found his way home.

Chapter 1

“You’re so lucky” Carrie sighed as the girls got ready for bed that night. “That proposal was so romantic.”

“I’m sure yours will come soon,” Emma said with a smile. “I saw you dancing with Phillip Alder, and he had stars in his eyes.”

“What about me?” Jennie asked.

Emma laughed. “You have a few years yet, Jennie Bean, but there’s a man out there for you as well. You just have to be patient.”

Jennie’s lower lip fell out in an adorable pout. “I want to be older now. I want to be kissed like you were, Emma. It looked so romantic.” She put her little hand on her forehead and fell onto the bed.

“Oh, dear,” Emma said. “We have our work cut out for us with this one.” She slipped off her dress and climbed into bed beside Jennie. Carrie followed suit and climbed in on the side of Jennie.

“Have you thought about the wedding yet?” Carrie asked.

“He just proposed tonight,” Emma said, but she had already been thinking about the wedding. She wanted it in the church of course. Carrie would be a bridesmaid and Jennie the flower girl. Emma wondered if William would ask Samuel to be his best man. The two had been spending a lot of time together building William’s homestead, but he had also been spending time with Jesse Jennings.

Of course, Emma had also been spending time with Kate Jennings. The two were fairly close in age and had started spending more time together when William made it clear he was staying and courting Emma. Once or twice a week, they would get together and trade secrets and recipes. They also spoke often of children.

Of course, Kate was going to reach that milestone first. She was with child and nearing her fifth month. Though Emma enjoyed seeing her friend grow, she couldn’t help feeling jealous, and so she hoped William would be okay with a fairly short engagement. She couldn’t wait to start a family with him.

“I know he just proposed tonight,” Carrie continued, “but I bet you’ve been thinking about the wedding since the first day he kissed you.”

Emma was glad the light from the lantern was low so her sisters wouldn’t see her blush. She had been thinking about the wedding since that day. Well, not the wedding itself, but the marriage. She had already had one wedding, but her first marriage had ended so shortly it was almost nonexistent.

As much as Emma loved her family, she wanted to be a wife again, to run her own homestead, cook for her husband, and enjoy quiet times in front of the fire. Of course, eventually she hoped to fill the house with children, but that was at least a year away.

“Get some sleep,” Emma said in answer. “We can talk more about the wedding tomorrow.”

“Do I get to throw the flowers again?” Jennie asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Yes, Jennie Bean, you can throw the flowers. Now, get some sleep.”

Carrie and Jennie obliged, but it was Emma’s own mind that refused to shut down. When it wasn’t reliving the wonderful night and the proposal, it was thinking forward to what had to be done for a wedding. She would need to make the cake, get flowers, see if she could alter her old wedding dress a little. Emma couldn’t afford a new one, and it would have been a frivolous waste of money anyway.

**

William left Emma’s house with a smile on his lips. Though he had been nearly certain she would say yes, there was always the small chance of a no.

However with the positive response, he could now relax and focus all his energy on finishing the homestead. It was nearly complete as he had spent the last few months on it, but he needed to finish the interior caulking and get the rest of the furniture.

That would require a trip into a larger town though. Sage Creek was growing, but it wasn’t quite large enough to have the type of furniture he had in mind, and he wanted the best for Emma. Perhaps he could do that in the next few days.

“You’re a hard man to track down.”

William started at the voice and reached for his gun. Retired or not, he still liked having it attached to his side and rarely went anywhere without it.

“Easy now,” the voice said, and a moment later William relaxed as the man stepped out of the shadows. Though it had been awhile, William would have recognized that mustache anywhere.

“What are you doing here, Jack? I’m retired.” William walked past the man who had convinced him to become a bounty hunter and up the few steps to his porch.

“Yeah, I heard that. Didn’t really believe it though,” Jack replied. “Wild Bill Cook no longer hunting? It just doesn’t seem right.”

“Well, it is. I’ve been out of the game for months. This is my life now.” William motioned to the house.

“Are you really ready to settle down?”

“I was settled down once before if you remember.” William said.

Jack’s fingers traced his mustache. “That’s right. You were married before. What was her name?”

“Catherine,” William said. “After her death, I wasn’t sure I would ever marry again, but I love Emma and I am ready.” William folded his arms across his chest, “and even if I weren’t, this here keeps me from getting back into bounty collecting.” He pointed to the scar on his neck. “Got wounded on the bounty that landed me here. Emma nursed me back to health, but I wasn’t ready to settle down. Took another job, but landed in the wrong place at the wrong time and took a punch to the neck. The bullet fragments shifted. Ended up having to have a tracheotomy. Doctors in Dallas told me I should give up the hunting life. So, I’ll ask you again, Jack, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Holden.”

William froze at the mention of the name. John Holden, his first job as a Bounty Hunter and the job that had gotten Emma’s late husband, Joseph, killed. “What about him?”

“Can we talk inside?” Jack motioned to the front door.

William debated for a moment before nodding. He led the way through the mostly empty living room into the kitchen area. Here, at least, he had already built a table and some chairs. He pointed to one and pulled out a second one for himself.

“So, what about Holden?”

Jack took a deep breath and ran his hands over his mustache and down his chin. “After we picked up Holden, he was being held in the Dallas jail until his trial. About a week ago, he managed to disarm a guard and escape.”

The thought turned William’s stomach over. John Holden had been notoriously evil before he was arrested and having him out again was an unsettling thought, but it was no longer William’s fight. “I’m sorry to hear that, but you have great men. I’m sure you’ll be able to capture him again.”

“There’s more, Bill.”

“It’s William, now.”

Jack nodded and then dropped his eyes to the table top. His index finger tapped a few times on the wood, and William bit the inside of his lip to keep from snapping at the man to spit it out.

“You remember how connected he was?” Jack finally asked, raising his eyes to meet William’s once again.

“Yes, I remember.”

“We got word that he’s gotten a few good men together and wants revenge on those who put him in prison.”

William stiffened. He didn’t want Holden anywhere near this town, Emma, or her family.

“He’s going after their families. Most of us don’t have many left, but…”

“Mabel?” William asked. He hadn’t spoken the name in years, but she was his only family outside of Emma.

Jack looked up. “Who?”

“My half-sister,” William said, blinking away old memories. “We haven’t spoken in years. How would Holden even know about her?”

“He might not,” Jack said with a sigh. “But, William, you know how dangerous he is. He went after my brother. He was shot at the saloon two days ago. From what I can gather from witnesses, it was Holden. I didn’t know about your sister, but I came out here to warn you and to ask you to join me. My brother lived in Roseville, so we’ve dispatched the Rangers there. They’ll spread out from Roseville and update the local sheriffs. I’ve also rounded up as many bounty hunters as I can to track him, but I want to find him first and I want you with me. Not only are you a great shot, but your sister could be in danger.”

William closed his eyes as he processed the information. Roseville wasn’t far from Barefoot Glen where he had grown up and where Mabel probably still lived though he hadn’t spoken with her since their mother died. Emma wouldn’t want him to go. In fact, if he were honest, he felt a small sliver of fear at the thought of going. What if he didn’t make it back to Emma? Or what if he received an injury that would cost him his throat and his voice? But it was Mabel, and while they hadn’t been close, she was still his sister. And what if Holden didn’t stop there? If Hardesty found him, Holden could too and then Emma and her family would be in danger as well.

“Please William,” Jack said. “He was my brother.”

William opened his eyes. “I need to talk with Emma.”

“I understand,” Jack said. “I’ll be heading out tomorrow by noon. I can’t lose him. Will that give you enough time?”

No, it wouldn’t give him enough time. He needed another few weeks to finish the house. He wanted to marry Emma first, to start a family, but he couldn’t say those things aloud. “I guess it will have to,” William said instead. “And why don’t you stay here tonight? I’ve only got the one bed right now, but I have plenty of blankets.”

“Thank you,” Jack said. “That’d be nice.”

William nodded, pushed back his chair, and led the way to the bedrooms. The house had three. One for Emma and himself and two for the children he hoped to have one day. As he set Jack up in one of the rooms, he couldn’t help wondering if his decision would keep that from ever happening.

Chapter 1

Jess Peterson stepped off the bus onto the campus of Texas Tech and took a deep breath. Though it hadn’t been her first choice of colleges – she’d wanted to get farther away – it had at least gotten her away from her “handsy” stepfather. In fact, if she never saw Paducah, Texas and it’s one stoplight again, she would be completely fine with that.

She slung her black backpack over her shoulder and crossed the quad to Knapp hall. A folded map resided in the back pocket of her cutoff denim shorts just in case, but having a photographic memory, she’d memorized most of the buildings, on the east side of campus at least. Knapp Hall was a large, though non-descript, brick building of three floors built in 1948.

Jess registered the cracks in the cement steps as she pulled open the front door. They weren’t surprising as old as the building was, but she hoped the interior had been updated more recently.

It was not to be. Though the dorm had definitely been improved since 1948, it still looked to be about ten years behind the times in terms of decorating. Variations of browns and greens were the main colors, interspersed with a few streaks of gray.

After stopping at the information desk on the first floor just long enough to get the keys, Jess took the stairs at the end of the hall two at a time to the third floor. 316. The closed door elicited a glimmer of hope that they’d gotten her the single she had asked for. The last thing she wanted was a roommate.

The door swung open and Jess swore softly under her breath. A blond girl stood beside the left bed unpacking the suitcase in front of her. She looked up when Jess entered and smiled. “Who are you?”

The girl dropped the item of clothing she had been holding and stepped forward, extending her hand. “I’m Emily. I guess you’re my new roommate.”

Rolling her eyes, Jess pushed past the girl, ignoring the hand. “Crap. I told them I wanted a single.”

“Well, they ran out,” Emily stated, appearing unperturbed by the rude behavior. “See, I’m a sophomore, but I offered to room with an incoming freshman if it was needed. Since you’re here, I guess it was needed.”

Jess tossed her backpack on the right bed and glared at the blond. “Well, I’ll be asking them to look again. I don’t do roommates.” Her hand plunged into her backpack, rifling through the contents until she found the item she was looking for – the paperwork with the RA’s name on it. Ah, there it was. Clasping it in her hand, she glared at Emily again, and then abruptly left the room, slamming the wooden door behind her. “Nope, nu uh,” she muttered as she stomped down the hallway to the RA’s room.

Room 350 was at the far end of the hall, and Jess rapped loudly on the wooden door when she arrived. A tall leggy blonde with sparkly pink lips opened the door. “Hi, can I help you?”

Oh, great. My RA was probably the prom queen – every year. Jess shoved the paper clenched in her fist in front of the preppy blond’s face. “I’m Jess Peterson, and I’m supposed to have a single, but there’s some goody-two-shoes who has already unpacked her things in my room.”

Her perfectly arched eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead as she leaned back slightly and took the paper, lowering it to a level she could read it from. “Okay, well, first off, let’s try not to call our roommate names.” She unfolded the paper and glanced over it.

With crossed my arms, Jess tapped her foot against the carpeted floor as she waited for the RA to explain they had made a mistake. “This says we’d try to get you a single, but that we couldn’t guarantee it. I’m afraid we had more upperclassmen return than we expected, and they get their choice of a single first. So, I can add you to the waiting list, but I’m afraid you’re stuck for now.”

Heat erupted in Jess’s body and her hands clenched into fists at her side. “That’s it? That’s all you can do?”

The blond shrugged and held the paper out to her, “Maybe try to get to know your roommate. I bet she’s not as bad as you think.”

“Argh, you are worthless.” Jess snatched the paper back from the RA’s glittery pink nails and marched down the stairs. This could NOT be happening. She slammed the outside door open as she reached the final step. It banged against the wall before slamming shut, satisfying a small destructive desire burning within.

Leaning against the brick wall, she pulled a cigarette and a lighter out of the pocket of her shorts and flicked the lighter on. As she puffed on the cigarette, the nicotine went to work on her nerves, soothing some of the manic feeling. How was she going to make it through a semester with a roommate?

It wasn’t that she’d never lived with anyone. She’d had to crash with a few friends the last few months after moving out of her mom’s house, but that had been a necessary evil and she’d been hoping to finally have a place of her own when she arrived at college.

As she inhaled, plans formulated in her mind. Maybe if living with her was awful enough, she could get the girl to leave. What would it take? Loud music? Being a slob? A parade of men? She would have to try them all, until one worked. The cigarette burned to a nub, and she dropped it to the ground, squishing it into the dirt with the toe of her boot before deciding to take a walk to calm her anger and solidify a plan.

When she returned to the room later, the girl was still there, and she had decorated. Red and black towels hung from the handle by the sink. Pictures of the Eiffel tower covered the wall above a soft grey bedspread. The girl sat on the bed with a book open on her lap. Ice flooded Jess’s veins as she realized what the girl was reading. She hadn’t thought this roommate situation could get worse, but she’d been wrong.

“Oh heck no, you’re one of those?”

“I’m sorry, one of what?” The girl’s brow wrinkled as she looked at Jess.

“One of those Bible beaters.” Jess had known enough “religious” people in her lifetime to know that she wanted nothing to do with them. They always talked a big talk, but rarely did they live what they preached. Even her mother had attended a church for a time, but dropped it when she met Jim.

The girl smiled. “I am a Christ follower, if that’s what you mean.”

With another eye roll, Jess mumbled under her breath, “Great, they paired me with a religious nut job.” She grabbed her headphones from her bag, plugged them into her phone, and turned up the music. Though the girl said nothing, Jess could tell the music was bugging her, and she smiled a little inside. Maybe this wouldn’t be too hard after all.

A few minutes later, the girl motioned for Jess to remove the headphones. She pushed one back just enough to hear her ask something about food. Yeah, as if I’d want to eat with you. Jess flicked a hand at her in dismissal and sighed in relief when the door closed behind the girl.

Turning off the music, she began to unpack her own things. There wasn’t much, only what would fit in her large backpack. When she’d left home a few months back, she had taken only a few clothes and items, just enough to get by. She’d stayed with a few acquaintances through the summer before having to spend the last week in a shelter. It hadn’t been that bad, and it had allowed her to keep the small wad of money she managed to save up and keep hidden from her mother.

Thankfully, a scholarship had arrived her senior year that covered room and board. While Jess hadn’t had a great high school experience, she’d had a pretty amazing guidance counselor who had understood her unfortunate home situation and convinced Jess she was a good enough student that she could get a scholarship if she worked hard. The counselor had been right and that had been Jess’s ticket out of the abuse she’d lived with for the last several years.

Jess pulled out her favorite black blanket, unrolled it, and covered the bed. Then she uncurled the few posters she had brought and hung them up on the walls. The contrast between her dark side of the room and the other girl’s happy bright side was nauseating and slightly comical.

An audible rumbling in her stomach sounded, and Jess realized she was hungry after all, but she had no idea which dorm the blond saint had gone to, and she didn’t want to risk running into her. It was time to see what the town had to offer.

University Avenue was to the east, and she trekked that direction having seen some restaurants from the bus when she arrived earlier. The sun still shone warmly, though it was nearing dusk, and beads of sweat began to trickle down one side of her neck. She had shaved the other side in hopes of deterring her stepfather’s advances, but it hadn’t worked. However, it had seemed to fit well with her “don’t mess with me” attitude, so she’d decided to keep it.

She crossed University at one of the crosswalks and debated. A pizza place, a burger joint, and a pancake house dotted the row of buildings. Not feeling much like breakfast, Jess decided to try the burger joint, Ollie’s.

The red and black building oozed Tech pride, and a picture of Ollie, a white dog with a black patch over one eye and a red bandana, completed the sign. Jess sighed at the gimmicky exterior, but figured the food couldn’t be too bad. It was rather hard to mess up a burger and fries.

As she opened the door, second thoughts flooded her mind. She might as well have walked into an updated version of Cheers. Huge television screens adorned the walls. Booths covered in red vinyl hugged the large windows, and a few tables and chairs sat near a large bar. A lively group filled the room, including a group of jocks at the nearest table cheering at the big screens. Pretty, blonde girls in designer clothes sat at another table tapping away on their expensive cell phones. If there were two things she couldn’t stand, it was jocks and Barbies.

She paused, hand on the door, debating her options. Though not her scene, she was hungry, and there were a few empty booths. The audible rumbling of her stomach finalized the decision and with a clenched jaw, she crossed to a nearby empty booth. Why couldn’t she be old enough to sit at the bar and order a stiff tequila drink?

She’d been drinking since the age of fourteen when she had found the liquor in her mother’s stash. The first swig had been awful, but she’d found after that the lightheaded sensation helped her forget the looks and the touches of her stepfather. Jess wouldn’t say she had acquired a taste for the liquor, but she had developed an appreciation to the mindless bliss it offered.

A college-aged waiter, clad in a white t-shirt and shorts, and wearing a bored expression arrived shortly and handed her a menu. New fears of the quality of the food deepened as the sticky menu audibly ripped open. Swallowing her disgust, Jess ordered a burger, fries, and a diet coke.

As the waiter turned away and headed to the kitchen, a large man slid in the booth across from her. With his short brown hair and broad shoulders, he looked very much like all the other jocks at the nearby table. A quick glance that direction confirmed her suspicion as the whole table had their eyes glued Jess’s direction. The man wasn’t bad looking, but Jess had no love for jocks. Perhaps if she could give him a cold enough stare he would leave, but alas he opened his mouth, and at the sound of his thick southern drawl, Jess felt IQ points begin oozing out of her head.

“I haven’t seen you ‘round here before,” the behemoth said. “I’m Randy. I’m a linebacker.”

Though Jess watched football – she was, in fact, a closet Dallas Cowboys fan – she had no intention of letting this dolt know it.

“That’s nice,” she said sweetly, plastering a fake smile on her face, “now get out of my booth.” The last words were filled with venom as her smile dropped and she glared daggers at him.

Randy held up his hands in defense. “Woah, no need to be rude now. I just thought I’d say hi.”

“Hi, now please leave.”

“Whatever.” He unfolded himself from the booth and lumbered back to his friends who cheered and clapped.

Jess rolled her eyes and sighed. Maybe she should have ordered in. She turned her attention out the window, and as she watched the cars pass, she wished for a different life. Thankfully, the table of jocks decided she wasn’t worth any more trouble and left her alone.

A few moments later, her plate of greasy food arrived. Jess hadn’t thought a restaurant could mess up a burger and fries, but she had been wrong. There was so much sauce on the burger that the bun had begun to disintegrate, and she was forced to eat the patty with a fork. The fries had evidently sat in the fryer a little too long as they were not golden yellow, but an odd brownish color. She shoveled down what little she could to satisfy the rumbling, paid the tab, and left. It was still better than home, she reminded herself as she stepped out into the humid night.

“Hey, you got a light?”

The voice came from the right, where a man with dark hair and a black leather jacket stood. Stubble covered his chin, making his blue eyes shine like a beacon in a dark storm, and the hint of a tattoo peeked over his collar. Jess’s breath caught as her heart hammered in her chest.

She nodded, forcing her voice to stay cool as she reached for her lighter. Her hand shook just slightly as she held it out, but The Highlander didn’t seem to notice. He lit his cigarette and then handed the lighter back. Jess shook out her own cigarette and lit up next to him.

“What’s your name?” he asked, nodding at her and taking a deep breath of smoke. It curled out of his thin lips in little wisps. Jess had never wanted to be a cigarette so badly.

“Jess. You?” She breathed in a deep lungful, careful not to overdo it. A coughing fit in front of this Adonis would be mortifying.

“Chad. You go to Tech?”

“Yeah, I just got here.”

He nodded again and continued puffing. Jess watched as his hand rose to his mouth and lowered to his side in a rhythmic motion, and she wondered what the stubble on his face would feel like against her cheek. Would it be rough like sandpaper or was it softer? A heat seared across her face, and she turned away.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” He finished his cigarette, flicked it on the ground, and then mounted a black Harley Davidson parked at the curb. His bad boy quotient rose even higher, and her heart pounded faster as she envisioned herself climbing on the back and wrapping her arms around his waist, the smell of leather tickling her nose.

As the engine roared to life, the image vanished, and the pounding in her heart slowed. He flicked a mock salute and rode away. Sighing, Jess finished her cigarette and began the trek back to the dorm room.

When the building came into view, her good mood faded away. If only she didn’t have the perky roommate to put up with, today would have been nearly perfect.

With a sigh, she pushed open the door to the shared room. Emily looked up from her book, but said nothing. Crossing to the little sink, Jess brushed her teeth, changed into her sleeping attire of cutoff shorts and a t-shirt, and then flicked off the overhead light.

“Excuse me, but I was reading.” Emily’s voice held a note of annoyance, and Jess smiled to herself in the darkness.

“And now you’re not,” she retorted.

A sigh carried across the room, followed by the sound of rummaging around in a drawer. There was a click, and a little book light came on. Jess should have known Emily would be a prepared little girl scout. She rolled her eyes and turned to face the wall. Score one for the annoying blonde, but there was always tomorrow. She would just have to be more creative. Pre-order today 

Hello everyone,

Though my writing time is limited, I am busy working on a new book for you in the Star Lake series. I’m hoping to release it at the end of January or the first of February. Please enjoy the first chapter:

Chapter 1

Lanie Perkins Hall stared at the two-story house she had once called home and sighed. Not how she imagined her life at thirty, coming home felt like a failure. At nearly thirty, she was supposed to be married with three kids – two boys and a girl or two girls and a boy. Instead, she found herself divorced, childless, alone, and back in Star Lake where single men were as prevalent as four-leaf clovers, but she hadn’t known where to turn when her marriage fell apart.        

After nine years, she and Denny had admitted they were no longer in love. Roommates who hung out on occasion, they had spent the last few years on opposite sides of the small two-bedroom house they owned.        

“I can’t do this anymore, Denny. We hardly talk, and when we do, it’s short and curt. I want to experience something again.”        

“You’re right,” he nodded. “Neither of us are getting anything out of this marriage any longer. I think it best we go our separate ways.”        

Lanie blinked at him, but nodded. A part of her had hoped he would fight, that he would suggest counseling or something else, but his quick agreement informed her he no longer cared to try. It saddened her a little, but she didn’t have the energy to fight for them both.        

Because they hadn’t desired the same items from the house, the smooth process had taken no time. Before she had even processed it, her hand was bare, and she had half the money from the sale of the house in her account but no idea where to go.        

She’d met Denny at college, and though they’d stayed in Dallas, close friendships had never formed. When he left, she realized the last place she remembered feeling comfortable was home in Star Lake. At least friends and family existed there.        

With a sigh, she turned the engine off and popped the trunk. Inside was a small suitcase with some clothes and toiletries, her tablet, and a few books as the rest of her furniture and clothes would arrive later.        

“Lanie, you’re here!” Her mother’s voice carried from the porch where she stood waving.  Lanie shut the trunk and grabbed her purse from the passenger side before mounting the few steps to join her mother, an older, plumper version of herself.        

“Hi, Mom. Thanks for letting me crash here a few days while I find a place.”        

“We couldn’t leave you on the street, Honey, and don’t worry about a place.” She held the door open for Lanie to enter. “You can stay here as long as you’d like.”        

Lanie forced a smile and swallowed her reply. If she had anywhere else to go, she wouldn’t be crashing with her parents.  Though she loved them, they were easier to tolerate in smaller doses like at Christmas or Thanksgiving. If she’d planned better, she could have rented a room at the inn, but winter was Layla’s busiest time, and Lanie didn’t want to be an inconvenience.        

“Dad is watching TV if you want to stop in and say hi.”        

“Can I drop my bag off first?” Lanie asked. Elaine, her mother, was easy to get along with, but her father was another matter. Ex-military, Bob had always been strict, and he hadn’t jumped for joy when she moved away or when she married Denny. He’d be even more disappointed if he learned about her latest indiscretion, but she hoped never to have that discussion with him.        

Her mother seemed to understand the hesitation as she nodded and ran her hands over the apron across her front. “I’ll be in the kitchen. When you get settled in, come and join me.”        

“Thanks, Mother.” Lanie continued down the familiar hallway to her old bedroom. A faded patch stood out in the middle of the door where her “Danger! Moody Teenager” sign used to hang. The door opened revealing a room decorated in pink and beige. That hadn’t been the way it had looked in high school, but after she moved out, her mother had removed the posters, repainted the walls, and mellowed the color scheme. Lanie couldn’t blame her. While John Stamos had aged well, he was no longer the teen heartthrob he had been at one time.        

Lanie set her suitcase down on the floor and plopped down on the full-size bed. It wasn’t as comfortable as her own bed, but it would do for the few days she planned to be here. House hunting was in her immediate future.        

The ceiling regarded her back as she lay, wishing she didn’t have to greet her father. Not that she didn’t love him, but he was a ritualistic Christian who didn’t believe in divorce. While she didn’t either, sometimes life didn’t turn out as planned. With a sigh, she pushed herself off the bed and prepared to face the music.        

True to form, he occupied the old recliner and faced the television. A home improvement show blared back at him. For as long as she memory served her, this was how he spent his evenings. Elaine would cook, they would eat, and then her father would retire to the living room. Lanie wondered if her parents loved each other any longer or if they had decided being roommates was enough after such a long time together.        

“Hi, Dad.” Lanie perched on the tan couch, ready to flee if he became too disagreeable.        

“Hello, Lanie.” An eye flick her direction, but words cool as ice. “You couldn’t try counseling, huh?”        

“It wasn’t all my decision, Dad. Denny didn’t want to try counseling. What was I supposed to do, beg?”        

“Pray for one.”        

“I prayed, Dad, but it didn’t work out.” Lanie recognized this would be an ongoing conversation with her father.        

“What are you planning for employment?” he asked, changing the subject.        

“I’m not sure yet. Being a disc jockey was fun, but no radio station exists around here, and even if it did, I doubt the pay would be enough.” Lanie had thought little about work, but the question gave her pause. There weren’t many skills in her arsenal. Radio had been her passion in college and had become her career. A few odd jobs existed in her past, but nothing boasting much talent.        

“Work at the store,” he suggested. “I’m getting older, and would like to spend more time at home. I’d always hoped you would take it over.”        

This was not new information. Her father had been pushing for her to run the shop since she was sixteen, and while it wasn’t where she wanted to end up permanently, it would solve her immediate employment issues and give her a steady income while she decided what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. “I can do that, Dad. I can’t guarantee I’ll take it over, but I’ll help until I decide what I want to do next.”        

His sniff showed his annoyance she was still not following his footsteps, but he kept the thought to himself. “Fine then,” was all he said.        

Lanie rolled her eyes, wondering if she and her father would ever have a better relationship. “I wonder if Mom needs any help,” she said, standing and moving toward the exit.        

Her father nodded as she exited the room and made her way to the kitchen where her mother was finishing cleaning. A neat nick, her mother never retired for the night until the kitchen was spotless.        

“Up for a game?” Elaine asked.        

Lanie and her mother had often passed the time playing card games when Lanie was growing up.        

“Sure, how about some Yahtzee?” Lanie pulled out a barstool and sat down across from her mother. Though she hadn’t played in ages–Denny had never been interested–Lanie enjoyed the challenge.

**        

Lanie woke the next morning as the first rays of light peeked in her window. A visit to Layla, her high school chum, was on her docket before approaching the realtor to see what was available. After pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater, she ran a brush through her hair and headed to the kitchen for some coffee and cereal.        

Her father sat at the table, a mug on his right and his Bible open in front of him. He read it every morning before work without fail. Lanie wished she had his passion for studying the important book, but some days, even though she knew she should, she couldn’t get into it.        

“Will you be able to work the evening shift tonight?” he asked without looking up.        

Lanie stifled a sigh as she pulled a mug from the cupboard. Couldn’t he have started with a ‘good morning’ at least? “Yeah, Dad, I should be able to. I’m visiting the realtor today hoping to find a house to rent, but I should finish by four. Will that work?”        

“We close at eight,” he said, looking up at her. “That’s a short shift.”        

Lanie bit her lip as she poured the coffee. She didn’t want to start the morning by fighting with her father. “It’s just for today, Dad. Once I have a place rented, I can start earlier, okay?”        

His hazel eyes regarded her, and just like when she was younger, she shrunk under the gaze. How did he make her feel small even at age thirty?        

“I suppose it will have to do,” he said, as his eyes dropped back to the Bible.        

With a shake of her head, Lanie took a sip of her coffee and decided to get breakfast out. She no longer felt like sitting even for a bowl of cereal.        

Another few large gulps of coffee sent enough caffeine through her system she assumed she could make it until she found more. Max served coffee at The Diner, and she had seen a new bakery which might have an even better option. She rinsed the cup in the sink and placed it in the dish rack.        

“Tell Mom I’ll be back later,” Lanie called as she headed for the front door, grabbing her coat on the way. Without even bothering to pull it on, she opened the door and stepped outside.        

The January chill nipped at her light sweater, sending a shiver down her spine as she closed the door behind her. She jammed her hands in the coat sleeves and snuggled down into the coat as she zipped it up. The keys jingled in her right pocket, and she retrieved them as she walked to the car. It wasn’t a long walk into town, but it was a little too cold for the jaunt today, especially since she had left without her scarf and gloves.        

The cold leather seats had barely warmed up when she parked the car in front of the Star Lake Inn.        

“Lanie,” Layla shrieked as she entered the foyer.        

Lanie smiled as her high school friend came around the desk and enveloped her in a hug. “Hey, Layla. You look good.” Layla always looked good. With her long dark hair and blue eyes, she had been the focus of the boys in high school, though her eyes had only been on Max and the rumor was they had finally gotten together.        

“You do too,” Layla said, stepping back to inspect Lanie.        

“I’m okay,” Lanie said, rolling her eyes. “I need to increase my gym time.”        

“Oh pooh, you look amazing. Now you need a man.”        

Lanie shook her head, remembering the last night before she left. It wasn’t an awful experience, but it was a mistake that should never have happened. “I’m in no hurry to jump back into a relationship, but it looks great on you. When did you and Max get together?”        

“A few months ago,” Layla said, returning to the desk. “He finally gathered the nerve to tell me how he felt. Of course, true to Max form, it wasn’t the most romantic revealing. He blurted it out one evening as he was closing, and all I could say was ‘what took you so long?’” Layla chuckled as she arranged things on the desk.        

“Well, better late than never,” Lanie said. “I’m glad you two got it together. Will there be a wedding soon?”        

“I don’t know,” Layla said with a shake of her head. “Maybe after another decade, but  a wedding is happening soon.”       

“Oh yeah? Who’s getting married?” Lanie wasn’t a fan of gossip, but in a small town where everyone knew everybody, it was hard not to be curious.        

“Presley Hays and Brandon Scott. Remember them?”        

Lanie searched her memory. “Behind us in school, right?”        

“Yep. Presley moved back about six months ago, and Brandon came home early December to help his father out. I guess sparks rekindled, and the rest is history as they say.”        

Lanie longed for a love story like that. Having always been a hopeless romantic growing up, she had pined for her wedding day, probably so much that she had put expectations on her relationship with Denny that he would never have been able to fulfill. “Well, that’s great,” she said, swallowing her own disappointment and faking happiness for the couple. “I should run to the realtor soon, but I wanted to ask, is The Diner the best place for coffee or have we gotten anything better?”        

Layla chuckled. “I’m a bit biased, but I think Max’s coffee is fine. However, if you’re looking for something other than black, Presley opened Sweet Treats across the way and makes a decent cup too.”        

“Thanks, I’ll try it. I’m working for my father until something better comes along, but we should get together soon.”   

“You bet,” Layla said, as the phone rang. She waved goodbye as she picked up the receiver. “Thank you for calling The Star Lake Inn, how can I help you?”        

Lanie exited the way she had come and climbed back in her car. Though she desperately wanted a cup of coffee, with no idea how long the house search would take, she figured she should hit the realtor first.        

A petite blond woman was opening the office as Lanie pulled in. Since she didn’t recognize the woman and the name of the building wasn’t what she remembered, Lanie assumed she was newer to town.        

After locking the car doors, Lanie dropped her keys in her pocket and pushed open the door to the realtor office.        

“Hello,” the woman said, greeting her as she walked in. “I just opened, but I’ll happily help you in a minute. Would you like coffee?” She pointed to a Keurig and Lanie smiled, nodded, and walked to the table.        

A silver metal tree-like apparatus sat next to the dispenser holding a variety of pods. Lanie grabbed a caramel mocha one and popped it in the coffee maker. When the coffee had filled, she held it to her nose, sniffing in the wonderful aroma before taking a sip. The warm beverage flowed down her throat, warming her from the inside out.         

“Okay, I’m ready now,” the woman said. “Have a seat.” She pointed to the chairs across from the desk, and Lanie sat down in the one closest to her. “I’m Annie Goodman,” she said, reaching her hand across the desk for a shake. “What can I do for you today?”        

“I’m looking to rent a house. One or two bedrooms. Something in town if possible.”        

Annie’s pink lips pursed as she turned to the computer on the right side of her desk. “Hmm, I rented the last two-bedroom house in town a few weeks ago, but let me see if there is a  one bedroom available.”        

Lanie wasn’t surprised at the lack of real estate. Few people moved to Star Lake unless they were moving back to be near family, like she was.        

“Well, I have two. I’m sorry that’s not much selection, but would you like to see them?”        

“Yes, please.” Large selection or not, Lanie needed a place that wasn’t her old room in her parent’s house.        

Annie led the way, flipping the open sign over so it now read ‘be back soon.’“Aren’t you going to lock the front door?” Lanie asked.“No need,” Annie said. “There’s nothing here to steal and besides, it’s warmer in here than waiting outside if someone else comes by. Shall we take my car?”        

Lanie nodded and climbed in the passenger side, curious how Annie could stay warm in her knee-length pencil skirt and heels. Though she wore a long-sleeved jacket, she hadn’t even grabbed a coat.        

The first stop was a small brown and tan cottage on blank street. It appeared in good shape from the outside with a little garden area and a single car garage. The inside was also in decent shape. A beige carpet lined the floors, and the kitchen and bathroom boasted a neutral color scheme. Though the bedroom was a little smaller than she was looking for, Lanie liked that the house was close to work, which meant she could walk and save on gas.        

The second house was a little bigger, but farther on the outskirts of town, and though it was a little cheaper, it didn’t have the homey feel the first house had presented.        

“Well, have you decided?” Annie asked as Lanie finished the tour of the second house.        

“Yes, I like the first place. I’ll be working at my dad’s ice cream shop, and I like that I could walk to work.”        

Annie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Mr. Perkins? I love his triple chocolate brownie sundae.”        

Lanie smirked as she remembered the day she created that dessert. She’d just been dumped by a boy from a nearby town, and she had been looking for chocolate to drown her sorrows in. “Yep, that’s my dad and my favorite dessert too. I named it when I was sixteen.”        

“Wonderful, I shouldn’t frequent the shop as much as I do,” Annie said, leaning in as if sharing a juicy secret, “but with no real night life and few men around, a girl’s gotta do something for fun, you know?”        

“What brought you out here then?” Lanie asked. She knew how boring her town could be.        

“My uncle owned the realtor office before me, but he retired to Florida. Having no kids of his own, he called me up to see if I was interested. I was working in a competitive agency in Atlanta, so I thought owning an office might be a good change of pace, but I failed to realize just how small this town is.”        

“It grows on you though,” Lanie said, “and the town puts on great festivals near the holidays.”        

“I’ll look forward to that then,” Annie said with a laugh. “Well, shall we head back and get your paperwork in order?”  

Lanie nodded and a few minutes later they were pulling into the office parking lot again.

 

 

By Lorana Hoopes

Murder Mystery, Cozy Mystery



Meet David Wagers, a cool, collected and incredibly handsome Private Investigator in the New York City area. David is hired to investigate the unsolved murder case of Courtney Tabbin, a popular, young woman with a promising future. Along the way, David encounters some interesting and suspicious characters and a complex office drama. Was Courtney’s murder just a random act of violence, or something more personal?

While digging deeper for answers, David also manages to juggle an understaffed office and even forms an alluring, new friendship with Victoria under the unlikeliest of circumstances. With impeccable skills of observation, deduction and razor-sharp instincts, David moves steadily towards solving the case but not without a few twists and turns, and managing to turn a few heads along the way.
Work & Wagers (David Wagers Case #1), a cozy murder mystery, is the first book in the new and exciting David Wagers detective series.


Excerpt

CHAPTER 1
 
David could already hear the phone ringing as he unlocked his office door. “I guess I really need to get someone in here,” he acknowledged to himself, knowing that he should have hired an assistant a good month ago. Business was beginning to pick up and no longer consisted of just background checks and unfaithful spouses.
His office suite was in a mid-rise building and consisted of two rooms; a small waiting room and his even smaller private office. It really wasn’t a bad trade off considering he had a view – or a snippet of a view – of the New York City skyline.
Sitting at his desk, David snapped his laptop into its docking station and turned it on. He would need to weed through his voicemail messages but that would have to wait for the time being.
One call that he had received the evening before was from Walter Huffs, a respected local attorney. Walter’s niece had been murdered and the crime remained unsolved. Concerned for his sister’s mental health and not wanting the case to go cold, Walter had hired him to investigate further. It was a case that David really wanted to handle, for a number of reasons.
“Courtney Tabbin,” he typed into the search engine on his sluggish computer. Page after page of search results came up. David began to comb through each and every one of them.
He remembered the incident very well. No more than a year ago, Courtney Tabbin’s body had been found in a secluded wooded area in Northern New Jersey, savagely beaten and left in a nearby stream. There had been no sign of sexual assault. Stolen items including a necklace and a wallet containing cash suggested a robbery, but the nature of the wounds suggested something more.
“I will have to speak to your sister, Joanne, about your niece,” David had said to Walter at the time, “and in doing so she will have to relive the crime and the loss of her daughter all over again. Will she be up for it?”
“Yes,” Walter had replied. “I discussed this with my sister before contacting you. It will be hard for her but not as hard as not having closure.”
According to past news articles, the night that Courtney disappeared she was supposed to meet with some co-workers for dinner. At first, when it appeared that Courtney was running late, a couple of the girls had tried to reach her on her cell phone. When she completely failed to show up, one of her co-workers had called Courtney’s house and had spoken to her mother. Her car had eventually been discovered on a desolate road, not far from where her remains had been found.
David’s concentration was broken into to when the phone rang. “David Wagers,” he quickly answered.
“Hi, David, did you get any of my messages?” It was Penny Irvines, a spousal surveillance client. Penny was in her mid-forties and well preserved, but was not the teeny bopper that she thought herself to be.
“Hello, Penny. Yes, I did,” David replied. Penny had left a message yesterday evening. “I just got into the office a few minutes ago.”
“Did you find anything out last night?” she asked sweetly. He could almost hear her batting her eyelashes.
“No,” David admitted. “I didn’t. It seems as if Troy was just working late.”
“Ohhh, how could that be?!” Penny exclaimed. “Are you sure about that?’
“There hasn’t been any evidence of infidelity so far,” he stated.
“You know he still has that business meeting outside of the office at the end of the week,” Penny continued.
“Yes, I’m prepared for his meeting on Friday,” David answered.
“David, dear, I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t prepared,” Penny said innocently. “It’s just so hard for me to be home alone all the time when I know he’s out gallivanting.”
“We’ll see what his meeting on Friday turns up. I’ll give you a call at the end of the week,” David said, eager to get her off the phone.
“Thank you, David,” Penny purred. “I’ll be waiting.”
David was getting the distinct impression that Penny just wanted an excuse to get out of her marriage, but he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.
Picking up the phone, he dialed in his voicemail passcode. Now was as good a time as any to go through the rest of his calls.
***
After picking up records on the Tabbin case graciously supplied by Detective Woods at the local police department, David was on his way to meet with Joanne Tabbin.
Joanne resided in a prestigious area in Northern New Jersey with her husband, a senior accountant and owner of his own CPA firm. Courtney had been their only child, which had made their loss that much harder to bear.
Arriving right on time, David pulled into the driveway of the attached, oversized two-car garage, as Joanne had advised. As he made his way up the front walk, the sun shined down brightly in the quiet, serene neighborhood, attempting to conceal the anguish that he could feel lingering underneath.
David rang the bell and waited for just a couple of minutes, hearing soft footsteps on the other side of the door.
Joanne answered the door looking haggard. In her early fifties she appeared older, with her salt and pepper hair and deep, dark circles beneath her eyes. She quickly extended her hand.
“So nice to meet you, Mr. Wagers,” she said, her gaze meeting his with unexpected determination. “Please, come in.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Tabbin,” David responded. “Your home is lovely.” The center hall colonial opened to a two story entry foyer which delivered a dramatic first impression.
“Thank you so much,” Joanne said. “Come, make yourself comfortable.” She led David to a formal living room where he took a seat on a small sofa. A framed picture of Courtney, a pretty brunette, sat on a nearby end table.
“Would you like anything?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” David said.
Joanne sat down in an armchair across from him. “So, where do we begin?”
“Well,” David said, taking a pad and pen from out of his briefcase, “We could start with that night.”
“Yes, a night I will never forget,” she stated.
Joanne then proceeded to rehash the events of that fateful evening. How Courtney had come home right after work and changed to go out to dinner for a girls’ night out with her co-workers. They were set to meet at the restaurant at seven thirty that evening, and Courtney had left at approximately five forty-five.
“Why did she leave so early?” David asked as he jotted down notes.
“She was probably taking into consideration the rush hour traffic,” Joanne speculated. “I know she was planning to stop for gas and the bank before it closed.”
“Could she have been planning to meet up with someone else before going to dinner?” David questioned.
“Courtney never mentioned that, but I supposed it’s not out of the question,” Joanne said.
“What about boyfriends? Was she seeing anyone at the time?” he continued.
“She did have one boyfriend but he was away in Connecticut for his last year of college,” Joanne answered.
“I’m sure you’ve been asked all of this before, but I need to ask again,” David commented.
“I understand that,” she nodded.
David hesitated for a moment. “Did Courtney have any enemies that you know of, any jealousies or dramas occurring in her life at that time?”
“Not that I know of,” Joanne stated. “Courtney was a popular girl and always had a lot of friends. She was beautiful and outgoing so, yes, there were some jealousies from time to time but nothing drastic.”
“I understand that Courtney was working at a major corporation in the area,” David said, “What was her role in the company?”
“Courtney was working for Well Metro, a health insurance company,” Joanne said, “She worked as a paralegal in their legal department. She was considering going further and becoming an attorney.”
“How long was she working at Well Metro?” David asked.
“She had just started. Maybe six months,” she recalled.
Tapping the pad with his pen, David asked, “Was Courtney having any problems at work?”
“No, not at all,” Joanne answered. “She loved the work she was doing. Her co-workers seemed like a nice group of girls. They were very concerned for her the night she went missing. I actually still talk to one of the girls. She’s very upset about Courtney’s murder and has been very supportive.”
“Could I have her name?” David asked.
“Pam Jobley,” she said. “She’s a very nice girl. In fact, I know she’s looking to move and I was actually considering offering her our lower level suite. It’s been so quiet in the house since Courtney has been gone. Pam is very cooperative and I’m sure she would answer any questions you might have about Courtney should you want to speak with her.”
“Maybe I will,” David said, looking up from his notes.
***
After speaking with Joanne for a little while longer, David left with a list of names of friends, classmates and co-workers of Courtney’s. Although none of the information he obtained was anything new from what was already on record, he was hoping that a different approach would bring forward different results.

It was obvious that Joanne leaned toward the idea that the murder was the result of a robbery gone wrong, some random person that, hopefully, someone would remember seeing Courtney cross paths with that night. David wasn’t so sure, however, and planned to leave no stone unturned.

About the Author

Sherrie Sushko is the author of three books, Remain, Lost Love, and Work & Wagers. When not writing or reading, Sherrie enjoys spending time outdoors with her dog. Sherrie currently resides in the United States.

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Lorana Hoopes is an author of children’s books and clean inspirational romance novels. The Power of Prayer , Where It All Began , When Hearts Collide , A Father’s Love , When Love Returns , The Wishing Stone: Dangerous Dinosaur , The Wishing Stone: Dragon Dilemma , and coming soon The Wishing Stone: Mesmerizing Mermaids

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