An eerie discovery brings danger and painful reminders of a tragic past ...When some workmen dig up a skeleton, Homicide Inspector Rebecca Mayfield finds herself investigating a death that took place years earlier. She never imagines that it will have major repercussions on the lives of people she now cares deeply about, or that it will put each of them in danger.Despite the bitter memories resurrected, as a cop, Rebecca has no choice but to pursue the inquiry wherever it might lead. But that doesn't make it easier, especially when it's clear that the special man in her life, Richie Amalfi, wants her to stop.Dangers abound, moving quickly from warnings to out-and-out attacks. The past is shrouded in mystery, but as the truth begins to emerge, it becomes apparent that one or more people are willing to kill to keep it buried. Yet, Rebecca refuses to abandon the case because the dead, although silent, do speak. And it's her job to listen.This is... Views: 27
Dr. Bodhi King returns in Lonely Path, the second book in the gripping medical thriller series by USA TODAY Bestselling Author Melissa F. Miller. When forensic pathology consultant Bodhi King is invited to present a paper at a national conference, he runs into a fellow presenter and old flame, Dr. Eliza Rollins. It's been more than a decade since Bodhi broke her heart, and the devout Buddhist convinces Dr. Rollins to join him for dinner so he can make amends.
On the way back to the hotel after their meal, they encounter a dazed young woman with no memory of who she is or what's happened to her. Their efforts to help her lead to a horrifying discovery in the woods that will force them to put aside their past to help the woman reclaim her life.
Dark Path (Book 1) will be available on October 17, 2017, followed by Lonely Path (Book 2) on November 14, and Hidden Path (Book 3) on December 12. Preorder all three titles today!
**From the Author
Visit my author page at amazon.com/Melissa-F.-Miller/e/B004OY7N76 to find out how to sign up for release notifications and for a complete list of my books. My newsletter subscribers can read the first books in my series for free. :-) Views: 27
How to heal a hero…Helping people comes naturally to Zoe Hamilton—she has the advice column to prove it. All she wants this summer, though, is to lick her postdivorce wounds in peace. That's fine by her surly-yet-handsome neighbor, ex-army captain Jake Meyers; he just wants to be left alone.Jake might believe his emotions are frozen forever, but the pain in his glittering emerald eyes tells a different story. Zoe can't help but reach out, but it will take all her courage to love a man so determined to keep himself closed off…About the AuthorAward-winning author Barbara Wallace first sold to Harlequin Romance in 2009. Since then her books have appeared throughout the world. She's the winner of RWA's Golden Heart Award, a two-time Romantic Times' finalist for Best Harlequin Romance, and winner of the New England Beanpot Award. She currently lives in Massachusetts with her family. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.Jake Meyers woke with a start, the smell of blood and sulfur still in his nostrils, his eyes searching the shadows for enemies who minutes before had been crystal clear. Kicking off his sweat-soaked covers, he focused on his heart slamming against his ribs. He willed his breathing to slow like they showed him in the hospital. Slow and easy. In. Out. Until the steady intake of air filling his lungs erased the sounds of screams.Damn. After three and a half weeks without a nightmare, he'd thought they were behind him. No such luck.With a ragged breath, he looked at the clock on his nightstand, ignoring the shudder triggered by the crimson glow. Five-fifteen. Well, at least this time it was close to dawn. His hip throbbed. The pain always flared more following a nightmare. If he were inclined to examine the reasons, he was sure he'd find some psychosomatic component, but in fact the reasons didn't really matter to him. Pain was pain. He grabbed the bottle of prescription painkillers off the nightstand and knocked over the photograph propped against the lamp as he did so. Reverently he put it back in place. The darkness obscured the image, but he didn't need light to see. He had the faces memorized. Every last one had been etched in his brain for eternity.Hobbling into the kitchen, he saw a half pot of yesterday's coffee remained. Too tired and still too hazy from his dreams to make a fresh pot, he poured himself a cup and, as the liquid reheated in the microwave, stared out his back window. Outside, the island hung on the edge of morning, silent and gray, the world still except for the occasional screech of a gull diving toward the waves across the street.And, of course, his thoughts. His thoughts were never silent.The microwave beeped. Jake grabbed his coffee and stepped onto the back step, letting the overcast dampen his skin as he breathed in the silence. Dew dripped from the pine trees dotting his backyard, their green needles sparkling. A chipmunk poked its head out from beneath a root.His purgatory shouldn't be so serene, he thought, not for the first time. As far as he was concerned, the world was wasting its early morning splendor on a dead man.Give yourself time. That's what the doctors at the VA hospital had told him. Some wounds don't heal overnight.They were wrong, he thought, as he raised the cup to his lips. some wounds don't heal at all."This hideaway of yours, does it have internet access?"From behind her blue-rimmed glasses, Zoe Hamilton rolled her eyes. "Naushatucket's off the coast of Massachusetts, Caroline, not off the grid.""If I can't read the label on a map, it might as well be." There was the muffled sound of a register on the other end of the phone. Caroline was out getting her midday latte. "Couldn't you hide out on one of the bigger islands, like Martha's Vineyard or Nantucket?""My family didn't own a rental property on Martha's Vineyard or Nantucket. Besides, isn't remote a hideout requirement?"Judging from the extended sigh on the other end, her assistant disagreed. Zoe half listened to the noise while scanning the air around her. Caroline's check-in, though welcome, came at a bad time. "If you're worried about my column getting in on time, I have everything I need to work from here.""I hope so. 'Ask Zoe's' readers will be distraught if they don't get regular posts from their favorite answer lady."Answer fraud, more like. "Don't worry. They'll get their responses." Poor trusting saps.A flash of black caught the corner of her eye; she spun around, eyes following the trajectory.Success. Her target had landed. The rest of the phone call would have to wait. "I hate to hang up on you, Caroline, but unless there's anything else, I was in the middle of something when you called.""Fine," Caroline replied with another dramatic sigh. "I know a brush-off when I hear one. Just promise me you won't spend all your time on that island crying your eyes out. That bastard isn't worth the effort.""I won't." On that point, they both agreed. Thinking of Paul churned up a lot of responses these days, but tears weren't one of them. At least, not anymore.After making a few additional promises, including assuring Caroline she wouldn't become a complete hermit, Zoe said goodbye and clicked off the phone. "Okay, Birdy, now it's your turn."From its perch above the open sliding glass door, a swallow, her nemesis for the past half hour, stared back unflinchingly. The creature had been circling the room through her entire phone call, steadfastly ignoring the escape route Zoe had provided. Finally, the bird stopped to rest, giving Zoe her chance."I really don't know why you're being so stubborn."She slipped off the silk scarf she'd been using to hold back her thick dark hair. Immediately a shock of bangs flapped over her glasses. She blew them out of her field of vision and took a step closer, careful not to move too quickly."The door is open. All you have to do is fly out and you'll be free."Her plan was to wave the scarf, using the color and motion to steer the bird off the molding and out the patio door. The swallow, however, had a different plan and, as soon as Zoe lunged forward, decided to dart straight for her. Letting out a screech, Zoe ducked. The bird flew overhead, careening off a ceiling beam before knocking into the mantel and flying up the chimney. Zoe rolled her eyes. "You've got to be kidding."When she had first decided to hide out for the summer, buying her parents' Naushatucket property sounded exciting, romantic even. What better place to heal a broken heart than an isolated cottage by the sea? Visions of long reflective walks along the shore and cozy nights by camp-fires came to mind. Instead, she discovered that her mother had let the property deteriorate since remarrying. Her childhood vacation paradise had become a sorely neglected Cape house with dusty furniture and sand-crusted windows. Screenless windows, she might add, a fact she had discovered when she tried to clear the house of stale air. Enter Birdy, who apparently had been lying in wait for someone to open one of them.Pushing her glasses back on the bridge of her nose, she knelt down on the hearth and readied herself for round two."It's not that I don't appreciate the company and all," she called up, "but Reynal-do and I weren't planning on sharing the house with a bird, and I'm guessing you're not keen on sharing with us. So what do you say you fly out the nice wide door I opened for you?"Her answer was a panicked flutter of wings against brick."Fine. Don't listen to reason." Moving on to Plan B—or C as the case might be—she grabbed the poker from the fireplace set. A loud noise ought to do the trick. Reaching up into the flue, she rattled the poker back and forth. The commotion set off more fluttering, followed by a rustling sound. Zoe looked up.A shower of creosote, dust and feathers rained down.Soot covered her from head to toe, clinging to her sweaty skin like iron filings on a magnet. Dust filled her nose. Her mouth tasted like the inside of an ashtray. Coughing, she backed away into the fresh air. Meanwhile, the swallow continued flapping inside the chimney.Great. This was what she got for trying to help. Hot, sweaty and soot-on. You'd think she'd learn."This isn't over, Birdy," she muttered. She reached for the abandoned scarf to clean off her glasses."Excuse me."Zoe jumped. Either Birdy had some serious testosterone issues or she had a guest. A blur in the doorway told her the latter. Slipping her glasses back on, she saw a man standing in the doorway. Tall and lean, with ruddy, weathered skin, he wore the standard island old-timer uniform—faded jeans and an equally faded long-sleeve T-shirt.He lifted a guilty-looking dachshund to eye level.Zoe recognized the dog immediately. "Reynaldo! You're supposed to be sleeping in the kitchen.""I found him digging around my backyard." From the look on his face, he wasn't happy about it, either."Sorry about that. He normally isn't a wanderer. Must be the new location." She moved to retrieve the squirming pooch from the stranger's grip before something else happened. "I'm Zoe Brodsk—I mean, Hamilton." She had to stop using her married name. "I just bought the place. I'd shake your hand, but as you can see…"No need finishing the explanation; the soot spoke for itself. He didn't look like he wanted to shake her hand anyway.Now that she had a closer view, she realized her neighbor was younger than her initial impression implied. Hair she'd mistaken for silver was really sun-bleached blond. And what she thought was aged ruddiness was really a series of pale scars, several small ones running across the bridge of his nose and one along the curve of his cheekbone. The most prominent was a deep mark that cut from his left temple to the center of his left brow, stopping just above a pair of hard, emerald eyes. Eyes whose intense gaze currently had her rooted to the spot.Reynaldo squirmed in her arms, sniffing and trying to lick at her ash-covered cheeks. Since adding dog drool to her already filthy face wasn't on her to-do list, Zoe set him down. In a flash, the dachshund ran to the fireplace and began barking. His dancing around reminded her how she'd gotten soot-covered to begin with.Turning back to her neighbor, she asked, "You don't know anything about capturing birds, do you?""Why, you got one of those that escaped while you weren't watching, too?""No." For the sake of neighborliness, she decided to ignore the comment. "I've got one stuck in my fireplace that needs rescuing.&#... Views: 27
From the night-black depths of a coalmine to the sun-struck peaks of the Appalachian Mountains, from a riveting murder mystery to a poignant meditation on the meaning of love and family, the latest novel in the critically acclaimed series strikes out for new territory: the sorrow and outrage that spring from a real-life chapter in West Virginia history.Royce Dillard doesn't remember much about the day his parents-and one hundred and twenty-three other souls-died in the 1972 Buffalo Creek disaster. He was only two years old when he was ripped from his mother's arms. But now Dillard, who lives off the grid with only a passel of dogs for company, is fighting for his life one more time: He's on trial for murder. Prosecutor Bell Elkins faces her toughest challenge yet in this haunting story of vengeance, greed and the fierce struggle for social justice. Richly imagined, vividly written and deeply felt, Last Ragged Breath is set in West Virginia, but it really... Views: 27
Ignite: A Firefighters of Montana Romance Views: 27
Sometimes even sidekicks have to step up.Here's the thing: Zeke's busy being the so-called Prince of Underwhere. His prissy sister, Stephanie, is some sort of pirate queen. But Hector? Everyone treats him like a joker and a sidekick. Well, those days are over. Now only Hector can save the day--if he can survive the swarms of sharp-beaked midget flying dinos, smart-aleck flying horses, angry armies in their undies, a really, really bad hypnotist, and a duel with deadly toilet plungers. . . all the ordinary wedgie weirdness of the tighty-whitie world under our own. Views: 27
