Carolina Walker wants a quiet life, thank you very much. She left intrigue and deception behind in Washington D.C., never expecting it to follow her home to Bowling Green, Kentucky. When events happen that can’t be explained away, help arrives in the form of the very attractive and muscular Jebediah McCormick. But as the tension escalates between Jeb and Carolina, so does the danger facing them…
Each book in the Lost series is a standalone, full-length story that can be enjoyed out of order.
Less than an hour later, Carolina practically skipped through the large department store, laughing as she held Jeb’s hand. True to his word, he wore his game face, and what crowds there were parted to let them pass. No one paid attention to her. One look at his hard face and eyes stayed riveted there until he had passed. For the first time in her life, she made it through the cosmetic area without being mobbed by pushy saleswomen.
Being burdened with packages like a pack mule didn’t lessen the effect of his game face. Although she noticed he earned more than a few sympathetic looks from husbands and boyfriends who were themselves weighted down by frilly bags. She grinned at him, carefree and happy.
“Enjoying yourself?” he growled.
“Immensely. I never understood why people enjoyed going to the mall. This is totally surreal.” She laughed softly. “You know, all these people think you are my boyfriend and that I have you…what’s the expression?”
“Pussy-whipped. And you knew the expression. I’m sure you read it in a book. I thought you said you were just picking up a few things. Why did we have to go to that store twice?”
“I wasn’t sure the dress was the right one the first time. I had to be sure, didn’t I?”
“No,” he muttered.
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I’ll order the rest online, but shipping takes a few days. I need enough to get by.”
“How much more could you need? A guy would buy five pairs of underwear, two pair of jeans and three shirts. Good for a month.”
She stopped outside a store selling bras and panties. “I, uh, think I’ll go in this one alone.”
He raised an eyebrow and looked in the window. “I don’t know. I do have some expertise in this area.”
She blushed and pointed to a set of metal benches guaranteed to be as uncomfortable as they were ugly. “Go.”
“Fine. But in case you were wondering, I’m partial to push-up bras, thongs, and that little thing in the corner of the window over there.”
She waited until he sat on the bench with the armload of bags spread out next to him. He gave her a wink and resumed intimidating the world.
Being burdened with packages like a pack mule didn’t lessen the effect of his game face. Although she noticed he earned more than a few sympathetic looks from husbands and boyfriends who were themselves weighted down by frilly bags. She grinned at him, carefree and happy.
“Enjoying yourself?” he growled.
“Immensely. I never understood why people enjoyed going to the mall. This is totally surreal.” She laughed softly. “You know, all these people think you are my boyfriend and that I have you…what’s the expression?”
“Pussy-whipped. And you knew the expression. I’m sure you read it in a book. I thought you said you were just picking up a few things. Why did we have to go to that store twice?”
“I wasn’t sure the dress was the right one the first time. I had to be sure, didn’t I?”
“No,” he muttered.
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I’ll order the rest online, but shipping takes a few days. I need enough to get by.”
“How much more could you need? A guy would buy five pairs of underwear, two pair of jeans and three shirts. Good for a month.”
She stopped outside a store selling bras and panties. “I, uh, think I’ll go in this one alone.”
He raised an eyebrow and looked in the window. “I don’t know. I do have some expertise in this area.”
She blushed and pointed to a set of metal benches guaranteed to be as uncomfortable as they were ugly. “Go.”
“Fine. But in case you were wondering, I’m partial to push-up bras, thongs, and that little thing in the corner of the window over there.”
She waited until he sat on the bench with the armload of bags spread out next to him. He gave her a wink and resumed intimidating the world.
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Raised on America’s Rock Coast in Cleveland, Ohio, Anita was born while the river burned. Music, food and family shaped Anita’s life and provide much of the fodder for her stories. Her love of mysteries and puzzle solving came from her Grandpa John, who introduced Anita to her first detective hero – Nero Wolfe. Food was as central a character in Anita’s life as it was in Nero’s, where Sunday dinner at Nonna’s table was a command performance.
Anita has been writing scorching mysteries and suspense since 2006 with stories ranging on the heat index from a “nice spicy little pepper” to “pass a mop for my forehead, please.” Check out tastes of Anita’s stories and like her on Facebook. Anita is a member of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America.
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