Friday, July 11, 2014


“A wonderful blend of sexy romance and sinister mystery!”~ USA & NYT Bestselling author, Caridad Pineiro

"This was a great book with a brooding and seductive atmosphere that pulls you directly into the story."~Under the Covers reviews

"This story will seduce you in more ways than one."~ All I Want and More Reviews

~Available in eBook and soon in print!~

Randolph shoved his shoulder against the heavy door. Rusted from weather, its hinges squawked loudly as the door swung open and Randolph stepped inside the dimly lit hall. A series of tunnels snaked below the hospital, leading to the boiler room, storage, and the morgue. He held out his hand and took Jane’s, drawing her inside. He saw her grimace from the acrid stench. “I’m sorry, the only ventilation comes from just above.” He pointed to the small oval metal grids built into the foundation. 

Paned gas lamps illuminated the narrow corridor, casting odd shadows against the ghastly water-stained walls. “You’re quite sure you still wish to go through with this?” He offered her his kerchief to cover her nose. She accepted it and nodded.

Unable to walk side by side, he walked ahead of her, hoping this exercise would be enough to quell her curiosity. Then again, his similar plan to use shock and fear hadn’t worked at the manor. He didn’t adhere to the idea that the person sending her notes and the embankment murders were related—or frankly, she’d be dead. His experience told him that whomever committed these heinous crimes had no soul. He was a pathological killer with no time for petty infatuations.

Still, she needed to see that this was no game. Randolph would make sure of it. A visit to his world, where grisly remains had to be inspected, where grieving families must be told that their loved ones were dead, robbed, beaten. She’d witness firsthand this grim task of watching good people fall apart, lost in the absence of answers, unable to understand why. He wanted to impress on Jane the truth of reality and make her see the horror of it, not just some idealized journalistic quest in her head.