Denise is a Southern girl. She has lived in
Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has a wonderful husband
and two incredible children, who not only endure her writing moods, but also
encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Besides writing romantic suspense, she enjoys traveling, reading, and
Accounting is a skill she learned to earn a
little money to support her writing habit. She wrote he first story when she
was a teen, seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious
rip-off of the last romance novel she read. She’s been writing off and on ever
since, and with more than a few full-length manuscripts already completed, she
has no desire to slow down.
dark memories that fill the other person’s soul with regret, fear, or shame. Living
with other people’s guilt leaves little room in her psyche for her own history.
She recalls seemingly unconnected events, but did those horrible incidents
happen yesterday, last week, or six years ago?
turns to Sidney Ashe for help untangling her distorted timeline, but the more
she leans on him, the more she questions his motives. Can she distance herself from
Ashe when her heart is hopelessly falling for him?
As Naomi struggles to understand how her emerging memories
mesh with the guilty memories of everyone around her and things become clearer,
she fears there is a killer in Clallam County who would do anything to stop her
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to him. A smile almost erupted on her face, but she bit her lip to stop it from
happening. No use. She couldn’t stop the grin. “Thanks for helping me with the
here?” She’d never been able to ask that question without sounding rude. Maybe
he was just being neighborly or friendly. Maybe this was only a social call.
People did that, didn’t they?
more like a question. Curiosity flickered in his eyes.
came to check on her?
you’re back. I’ve missed you.”
to run her fingers through his hair, to lean against his chest and take a deep
whiff of him, to find out what his lips tasted like slammed into her
consciousness. She’d never had such an intense reaction to a stranger. Could
the man be someone from her past whom she simply didn’t remember? If he were
someone she used to know, she wouldn’t mind knowing him again. He certainly
seemed to know her.
haven’t been the same.” His baritone voice lowered at least an octave as he
stepped closer to her.
through her body. Wavy brown hair curled just at his ear. Stubble darkened his
strong jawline. Intelligence flashed in his hazel eyes as their gazes met.
scrutiny of him. Well, bold for her. She tried never to meet anyone’s gaze.
Direct eye contact invited interaction, but she couldn’t help staring into his
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