Kyle Garrett stuck his foot in his mouth the night we met in a bar near Miramar but he won me over with his enigmatic smile and charming wit.
My friends said to watch out, that love was nothing but a trap. But I didn’t listen. We didn’t listen.
My life is all about calculated risks, when to push the throttle and when to ease back so I’ll give him a chance even though my gut tells me that I’m headed for a crash…
George Washington Township, New Jersey has been relatively quiet ever since it was turned upside down following a high profile kidnapping. During the lull in excitement Detective Claire Goodnite has enjoyed being in the love bubble with the sexy SAIC Wesley O’Connell.
Never fully believing that she was capable of a committed relationship—with Wes or with anyone—leaves Claire feeling undeserving of the elusive happily ever after. She has never let herself enjoy what was within her grasp . . .
Until a string of murdered women dressed and posed like sleeping dolls shakes the very foundation of everything Claire thought she knew. Particularly when the only connection to be found between the three victims is the man who finally stole her heart for keeps, Wes.
But it’s like she always said, she’s bad at love.
The sleepy little New Jersey township has been turned upside down as plans for the wedding of Claire Goodnite and Wesley O’Connell are in full swing. But when the patrons of the church’s singles group are being picked off one by one and branded with a scarlet letter—in blood—Claire and the team put their festivities on hold to track down a killer.
It’s just another case, another day in the life of a police officer until tragedy strikes their small circle of friends. When one of their own becomes one of the victims, how will the group go on? Or more importantly, can Claire survive it?
It’s probably best you say your prayers . . .
Once upon a time I was meek and I was mild and it almost cost me my life. It seemed I was destined to learn to swim in shark infested waters.
When I embraced my role by Rhys's side I didn't realize the size of the target on my back. The sharks taught me valuable lessons and I'm going to take each one to heart. I just hope it's not too late because now only God can save the Queen.
Check. F*cking. Mate.
Detective Claire Goodnite is finally marrying her sexy SAIC, Wesley O’Connell, in this suspenseful conclusion to the series.
The hall has been booked, the flowers have been ordered, and the invitations have been sent. Everything is finally falling into place for the happy couple, or so it seems.
That is until a hunter the likes of the old DC Sniper has his sights set on New Jersey Law Enforcement and suddenly the thin blue line has a big, old target painted on their backs. It’s open season on police officers and federal agents alike. She might be the best damn detective in the state of New Jersey but even this case has Claire running for her life.
Not to mention the loss of one of her inner circle seems to have shook something loose in her mind. Claire’s memories of that long ago day when she was taken from her home as a child are surfacing one after another. But will she remember before it’s too late?
It’s like they always say, every story has its ending.
Are you ready for this one?
It’s gonna sting.
You ever have an out of body experience? Like one of those moments where you’re standing on a street corner watching yourself do something monumentally stupid? Something you know you shouldn’t do but you just can’t help yourself?
Three weeks ago, Trent and I were deep into the Honeymoon stage of love, I swore I wouldn’t be the first one to rock the boat—Lord knows with our two Irish tempers it would happen soon enough—so when he made me promise to keep my nose and our grandmothers out of his investigation, I did.
It didn’t hurt that his head was buried between my legs at the time either. But then Daisy called me begging for help and what kind of BFF would I be if I shut the door in her face? That’s right, a shitty one. So I packed up our grandmothers and their gogo boots, g-strings, and pasties to get to the bottom of things. Only problem is if Trent catches us I’ll be dead meat, folks.
My name is Shelby Whitmore, Funeral and Obituaries columnist for the San Diego Metro News and most likely to be single again if I survive this sh*t. But hey, I’m still a hit with the blue hairs.
Not too long ago, I had one goal: Win an Olympic Gold Medal but an injury took me out of the running for the Ladies Figure Skating competition at the last Olympic Games. Nancy Kerrigan was grandfathered in. I was not.
Translation: I was disqualified. DQ’d. I was out in the cold on my keister.
But when an offer to fill a spot on a pairs team lands in my lap, I take it. It seems like an answered prayer—that is until a competitor is found brutally murdered in her room at the competitor’s village and my partner is the number one suspect.
I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. Again. Sweet Kristi Yamaguchi, save me from overly cocky men.
My name is Sophia Eleonore Dubois and holy mother of Dorothy Hamill my life is still complicated . . .