(MSRP: 6.0000)
Available in Print
Guiding a canoe party through the Maine wilderness is more than just a job for former Major-Leaguer Sam Kincaid. After hitting rock-bottom, he needs to prove he can pull himself out of the bottle and succeed at something. He can't let himself be distracted by an ambitious, obsessed female, even if she's sexy, witty and smart.
Investigative journalist and confirmed urbanite Annie Wylde embarks on the canoe trip to keep a promise to her murdered friend and intends to use the outing to study her notes on the notorious killer called the Hunter. She banters with Sam but rebuffs his advances, considering him just another egotistical jock.
But when Annie realizes the killer has followed her into the woods, she learns there's more to Sam than testosterone and dimples. And Sam faces the challenge of his life to keep Annie safe and defeat the Hunter.
Rose
PRINT ISBN 1-60154-390-5
(380 Pages) Rating (spicy)
Excerpt:
“We never saw Emma again. That was October. In April, loggers found her body near Rangeley Lake. Tonight I scattered some of her ashes in Gomagash Lake.” Annie's voice broke.
Sam started to wrap his arms around her, to offer sympathy, but she’d misconstrue his intentions. Hell, no, she wouldn’t, but he’d keep his hands off anyway. “So probing her death was what led to uncovering the other murders?”
“Yes, there was something too ritualistic about the way he left her body. I couldn’t leave the story alone.” She passed a hand over her eyes. “Ironic, isn’t it? That perverted bastard commits his vicious crimes in the woods, and here I am smack in his playground.”
“He’s not here. You’ll be all right. My tent’s next to yours.” He winked at her and slid a hand around the back of her neck. Her skin was soft, smooth. Tempting. “If you have nightmares, call me. I’ll be over before you can yell twice.”
That coaxed a wider smile out of her. “That would be a nightmare.” She sidestepped his caress, unzipped her tent and crawled in. “Good night.”
He frowned at the star-filled sky.
“...stabbed with a big hunting knife like—"
“Like mine,” he whispered. Even though he’d stopped Annie’s words, every one of the campers knew what she’d been about to say. No need to give the thought power by uttering the words.
No way his knife going missing had anything to do with the Hunter. More likely losing it was an omen of his incompetence at guiding. That thought sent a sharp pang to his gut, as if by that very knife.”
