Alaskan bill-collector Wynne Smith has a problem. Actually, she has two. The first is sexy, six-foot, Deputy US Marshal, Seth Vassar, fresh off the plane from Dallas, Texas and looking for answers to a five year old murder investigation. The by-the-book marshal doesn't take no for an answer any more than Wynne likes to let a puzzle go unsolved.
Which leads to her second problem. A serial killer intent on making Wynne pay for destroying his next work of art.
Now Wynne has to guard her heart against a man she knows is going to leave her while she tries to keep one step ahead of a maniac. In a game this deadly, her only hope lies In A Lover's Silence.
The dead still hate!
John Backman specializes in inexplicable phenomena. The weirder the better. So when he gets a letter from a terrified man describing an old log home with odd whisperings, shadows that come alive, and rooms that disappear, he can’t resist the call. But the violence only escalates as soon as John arrives in the remote Alaskan village of Shida. Something dreadful happened there. Something monstrous. The shadows are closing in…and they’re out for blood.
Former combat medic Kory Wagner has been in four war zones, served three tours in Iraq, survived countless firefights, RPG's, IED's and even a helicopter crash. Now she's home and out of the Army for good and someone is trying to kill her in her own backyard. Just as disturbing is the handsome sheriff who's on the case.
Sheriff Sean Harding doesn't quite know what to think of the decorated veteran that managed to outsmart an entire search party. What bothers him more is the body of a PI, whom she hired, was found dead in a building she owns. And Kory isn't being very cooperative with helping him find the answers as to why someone would kill her sister and want her dead. Will he be able to keep her alive along enough to discover the truth?
It was the shoes that did it...
I realize that you're not supposed to base a major life decision on something as inconsequential as footwear, but these weren't just any old shoes. These were my Jimmy Choo polka dot sling back sandals. As a starving college student I couldn't afford to pay retail so I surfed eBay and scored a pair for less than half the original price. Even so, they represented a major indulgence for me; I saved my tip money for two solid months to pay for those suckers.
And then Johnnie ruined them and threw them out.
Maybe I should be grateful on some level that Johnnie did what he did, but I haven't managed to evolve to that point yet. I've done a lot of healing and a lot of growing, as my shrink used to say, but I'm still royally pissed at Johnnie about those sandals.
So pissed that sometimes I forget to feel bad about killing him.