Some Other Child












ISBN Digital: 978-1-62830-412-1
ISBN Print: 978-1-62830-411-4
Page Count: 282
Word Count: 70375
Rating: Sensual (PG-PG13)


Between the responsibility for the care of her injured mother and straightening out her muddled finances, public health researcher Sarah Wright hasn't a minute to herself, much less time to repair a fractured romance. After a much loved aunt goes missing, Sarah is convinced it's a kidnapping but the police refuse to investigate. Former fiancé Dan flies to Sarah's side to help—and it looks like things might come back together for the two of them—until Sarah is arrested for her aunt's murder. As evidence stacks up against her, Sarah must find the real culprits as well as unravel decades old family secrets along the way.
 

Rating: Sensual
Page Count: 282
Word Count: 70375
978-1-62830-411-4 Paperback
978-1-62830-412-1 Digital

Excerpt:

Sarah wanted to throw the remote at the screen, but instead changed the station to a nice soothing infomercial for self-cleaning mops.

The next time she glanced at the clock, it was a few minutes after six in the morning. She must have dozed off. Something teased at the edge of her mind and haunted her, like the familiar scent of a perfume.

Winston ran to the door and began barking.

“Jeez, you must have teeny-weenie bladder syndrome.” She threw open the back door. “Go! Get me a clue!”

He flew out the door, barking. She paused for a moment and raced after him, her bathrobe flapping in the cool early morning air. Winston ran along the edge of his invisible fence and barked. She arrived at the top of her driveway just in time to see a white van circle the cul-de-sac. She ran down the pine-tree-lined driveway, trying to catch sight of the license plate in the pre-dawn light. The Maryland truck plate began with the letter “M” and the numbers one and three. The rest of the numbers or letters were covered in dirt or mud.

“You son of a bitch!”

The van stopped, reversed, circled the cul-de-sac and came back toward her.

She froze in place. The van was so close, she could see the face of the driver, a shaggy-haired man with an expression of hatred. A pine tree stood between her and the curb. She leaped behind the tree, fell onto the ground, and rolled into Aunt Ida’s yard. When she came to a stop, she fumbled for her cell phone and punched 9-1-1. “Help me! Please! He’s going to kill me!”




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