Fashion designer Sunny Benning’s world has been torn apart. Her lead designer has been murdered. Sexy Detective Jake Chess makes Sunny’s heart throb, but he’s got his eye on Rick, Sunny’s brother, as the main suspect. Now she’s got to control her desires for the detective while convincing him of Rick’s innocence. When clear evidence comes to light revealing the real killer, Jake and Sunny have to move fast to save Rick from a vicious killer-turned-kidnapper, even as they fall in love in the process.
“I’m gonna kill him for this.”
Sunny Benning stood at the base of her porch steps and stared up into the shadows leading to the front door of her restored 1910 Palm Beach estate. Her brother, Rick, must’ve turned the porch light off when he was there for lunch. She knew she’d left it on that morning in anticipation of coming home late. While the street light at the corner offered some comfort, she could still feel the fear rising.
God, she hated the dark.
With a deep breath, she darted up the steps. The light breeze coming off the Atlantic just yards away usually calmed her. She stood for a moment to get her bearings, glancing nervously left, then right, and then inserted the key into the lock. Finding it already unlocked, she pushed the door open, stepped into the narrow hall, and reached for the wall switch—nothing happened.
The front window, with its sheers, allowed a glimmer of light to filter through. The streetlight lengthened the creepy shadows in the room, turning them into voids of darkness. Perfect spots for Jason Voorhees to hide with his hockey mask and big knife.
“Good thing it’s not Friday the thirteenth.” She started at the sound of her voice. “Can we say, ’scaredy pants’?”
Two steps into the room, she jumped as something brushed her leg and yowled. “Damn it, Loop!” She bent in the darkness to pick up her black Scottish Fold cat, her fingers sinking into wet and sticky fur. “Eew, what’s all over you?” He tensed and struggled to get free. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong fella?” He hissed and jumped out of her hands. She straightened. That wasn’t like him. And why was his fur so nasty and sticky?
Sunny’s gaze jumped from shadow to shadow around the room. Despite the light peeking through, the darkness was still suffocating. She examined the sticky substance on her palm. Even in the semi-darkness, she could see the stain on her hand. She lifted the other one up and it, too, was coated in the dark substance. Moving closer to the light coming through the sheers, she held out both hands, then brought one to her nose, wrinkling it up when her hand got too close. Metallic, she thought and looked at her hands again. Her mind rejected what it saw, groped for another explanation.
Sherre Pratt lives in Columbia, South Carolina with her parents and her poodle (Fifi). She’s been writing since 2001 when she realized that she could write her own love stories instead of just reading them. When Sherre’s not writing, she enjoys reading some of her favorite authors or doing research for her next book.