A wholesome image to match my brother’s.
But that’s not what’s smoking like a summer barbecue in the driveway of the rental.
“Ma’am, do you know why someone would do this?” the fresh-faced cop asks, his pen poised above a notepad. His nametag reads Samson, and I want to tuck that away for a future character. My ears perk up at the conversation around me.
“Looks like Sloane Daniels’s books,” another one says, as he pokes around. “My girlfriend reads them. I got her one for Christmas with a sweatshirt that says ‘I love Smut.’” He chuckles then sobers as his gaze lands on me before returning to the wreckage in front of him.
It’s enough to get the cop’s attention taking my statement, his body shifting close to look at something on the ground.
“What the hell?” He mutters the words and I can’t wait—I need to know.
Moving right next to him, I look down at the pavement, the bottom of the box intact enough to have protected something underneath.
A single word.
Intentional.
A word painted onto the driveway—a message just like the others.
SINNER.
No one was ever supposed to find out, but someone did and I can’t ignore the fact that I may well be in danger.
Because Kat Harrington, author of children’s books, is darling. But Sloane Daniels, author of dirty and dangerous romantic suspense, isnot.At least not in this narrative.
And even though I knew I’d get hate mail simply for writing, this is different.
This is personal.
They know who I am.
They knowwhere I am.
And there’s no telling what will happen next.
Looking down at the driveway, I do my best to keep an appropriate expression on my face even as my stomach rolls. I need to call my brother. I need to get help before this gets worse.
I need to figure this out before I become the victim in the one story I was never supposed to write…my own.
2
TOM
My feet pound against the dirt road as I follow the path back to the small cabin I’m calling home for the next week. My former boss and friend, Cullen Andrews, thought it would do me some good to take a vacation and visit him and his family for a while.
Relax.
But relaxing isn’t really my style.
Going from the military to working for Andrews International had been seamless—one dedicated mission to the next.
Purpose.
But Cullen’s heart attack, coupled with reuniting with his estranged daughter, had landed him here, in Clementine Creek, and full of wisdom onslowing downand enjoying the ride.
I like my ride just fine.
In the fast lane.
