"It's cold. And dark. I can't breathe."
Successful, ambitious state prosecutor Grace Courtemanche is at the top of her game. Then she gets a chilling call from a young woman claiming to be buried alive. Desperate to find the victim before it's too late, Grace will do whatever it takes . . . even if it means excavating the darkest secrets of her own past and turning to the one man she thought she would never see again.
FBI agent Theodore "Hatch" Hatcher is a man without roots-and that's the way he likes it. But when a grisly crime shatters Cyprus Bend, Florida, Hatch is dragged back to the small town-and the one woman-he hoped was in his rearview for good. Forced to confront the wreckage of their love affair, Hatch and Grace may just find that sometimes the deepest wounds leave the most beautiful scars-and that history repeating itself may just be what they need to stop a killer . . . and save their own hearts.
FBI agent Theodore "Hatch" Hatcher is a man without roots-and that's the way he likes it. But when a grisly crime shatters Cyprus Bend, Florida, Hatch is dragged back to the small town-and the one woman-he hoped was in his rearview for good. Forced to confront the wreckage of their love affair, Hatch and Grace may just find that sometimes the deepest wounds leave the most beautiful scars-and that history repeating itself may just be what they need to stop a killer . . . and save their own hearts.
Book Excerpt:
Hatch continued to stare at her with eyes the color of a
steamy July sky. But then, Hatch was summer. Lazy days and lustful nights. Sun
and sand. And heat. A heat so intense, even with a decade’s distance, warmth
crept along her cheeks.
Hatch’s dimples deepened. God, she’d forgotten how easy it
was to get lost in the depth of those creases, for a man like Hatch knew how to
wear—and work—a smile.
She straightened the pearls at her neck.
“Yep, Alex, the lovely prosecutor is correct as usual,”
Hatch said. “Tell me, Grace, do you ever get tired of being right?” He lowered
his voice, his words pouring over her like tupelo honey, sweet and wild and
golden.
For a moment she forgot everything and simply listened to
his words, the words of a charmer. Grace tried to go to the calm, cool place in
her head, but her heart slammed triple time, beating up a heat that left her
dizzy. From the moment they met on St. George Island the summer after she
graduated law school, Hatch Hatcher had left her off balance. She’d spent the
summer teaching tennis at an exclusive children’s camp, and he’d taught
sailing. That hot, whirlwind summer led to a disastrously short marriage. It
took them all of ten weeks to learn the universal truth: Mind-blowing sex does
not a marriage make.
She’d come a long way since then. She was older now,
stronger and harder. “What are you doing here?”
Hatch gave her a breezy shrug. “Just taking care of a little
crisis situation.”
The boy standing next to him, the one he called Alex, said
something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like asshole. Hatch’s jaw flinched. The boy’s nostrils flared.
“I see you ended up with the Bureau,” she said to break the
tension.
“Keeping tabs on me, Princess?” He waggled his eyebrows, the
wicked grin back. Hatch and his stupid nicknames.
“It’s hard not to. One of the country’s premiere hostage
negotiators receives a good deal of media attention.” When she’d known him,
he’d been a sun-soaked sailor without a paycheck or a plan. “I saw the
talk-down in Atlanta last month with the high school bomber. It was all over
the news. Good for you.”
“Good for the twenty kids in that boy’s science classroom.”
Hatch rested his backside against her car, crossing his legs at the ankles.
To any bystander, he was just a guy kickin’ back and
catching up with an old flame. But this man was an Apostle. He was one of the
best crisis negotiators in the world. And she damn well knew every movement he
made and every word he uttered served a purpose. She crossed her arms over her
chest.
“And you?” Hatch said. “I hear you’re working as an
assistant state attorney and destroying bad guys with your lovely little
hands.”
“I’ve had a few successes.”
“A few?” He laughed, but there was an edge to it. The edge
surprised her. The old Hatch had been smooth, like the mirrored glass of a
windless ocean. “From what I’ve heard, you’re on top of the world.” Hatch
uncrossed his arms and raised his palms to the sky. “And someday I bet you’ll
own it.”
“And you’ll simply drift
through it.”
The air grew still, and the afternoon clamor of the swamp
silenced. It was like the heavy, pressurized seconds before a summer storm,
before the swollen clouds and electric sky clashed in a thundering display of
power.
He was the first to break. His mega-watt smile lit up his
face, and he motioned to the building behind them. “And what brings you to the
sheriff’s office? Are you here for business or”—his dimples sharpened like tiny
scythes—“pleasure?”
“Business.” The short, tense word catapulted her to the
present. She shouldn’t be wasting precious time talking to Hatch. She’d spent
the day in the swamp searching for Lia Grant, a girl who’d been buried alive,
and with each passing hour, the girl’s voice grew fainter.
It’s cold. And dark. I
can’t breathe.
About the author:
A former newspaper reporter, magazine editor, and restaurant reviewer. These days Shelley writes smart, funny novels for teens and big, edgy romantic suspense. A six-time Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Finalist, she lives and loves in Arizona with her family and the world's neediest rescue Weimaraner. When she's not behind the keyboard, you'll find her baking high-calorie, high-fat desserts and haunting local farmers markets for the perfect plum.
Social Media Links:
My review:
This book was just blah for me. It was decently written but overall I ended up not enjoying the story. It felt sometimes that the writter didnt know weather this sould be a romance novel or a supense thriller and that made me frustrated with this book and lose intrest. People who are fans of books like this might enjoy it but it just wasnt for me and I cant recommend it.
No comments:
Post a Comment