Blurb:
Small-town sheriff Ethan McQueeney has found contentment with his life in Beaver Creek, Vermont. He lives in his childhood home, is continuing his family’s legacy as sheriff, and tends to the land like his parents before him. Once upon a time, he had a fiancée, but she craved the excitement of the big city and left him behind without so much as a backward glance. But Ethan loves his town, his job, his friends, and his life just the way they are, and he isn’t going anywhere.
Mystery writer Jane Goodwin abandoned the big city life, seeking solace after the devastating death of her husband triggered by a story she wrote. Fate takes an unexpected turn when she wins the bidding war for a dilapidated farm. As she dives into a daunting to-do list, dredging the pond takes center stage. However, what starts as a routine task exposes a spine-chilling surprise—a skeleton emerges from the muck.
Ethan confirms the victim’s identity through a familiar ring on the dead man’s finger. David Thornton was a long-time Beaver Creek resident who attempted to outbid the farm’s current resident, Jane. The man was disagreeable but didn’t deserve to die.
As Ethan navigates the web of secrets, he contemplates a chilling possibility—could Jane, the farm’s new owner and a woman well versed in crime, be capable of murder?
Trouble continually brings them together. Can they fight their growing attraction and mend their broken hearts as they work together to unravel the mystery that threatens the peace of their community?
**PROLOGUE**
Warm sunlight poured through Jane Goodwin’s office window, casting golden beams across her desk like a shower of congratulations. Life was good. She leaned back in her chair and stared at her computer screen. Done!
She smiled to herself, typed the words ‘The End’ and hit save, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction.
Another mystery novel completed.
She wrote about a murder, a tale born from her imagination. The story had everything her readers craved: a sexy hero, a strong female protagonist, plot twists galore, and romance. Oh, she hadn’t forgotten the happily ever after. Nope! Her fans would be devastated without a happily ever after.
Jane closed her eyes and exhaled, slowly releasing her breath. The apartment was quiet, just the way she liked it. The hum of the air conditioner was just white noise in the background and the familiar scent of her husband Mike’s cologne lingering in the air comforted her.
She sat there for a while taking in her office—her happy place. A small pink loveseat was pressed against one wall. Hung above it was a watercolor of Boston Commons in the springtime and its iconic swan boats painted by her best friend Savannah Jones. It was a peaceful scene, quite the opposite of Savannah’s chaotic childhood and her outgoing personality.
The painting reminded her of childhood memories and the thrill of riding the boats with her grandmother. Pearly pink and fuchsia blossoms of the magnolia and cherry trees popped against the lush greenery in the background. Not unlike the view from her living room window right now that overlooked the same park.
Jane ran her hand along the antique cherry desk her parents gifted her when she graduated from college. Its varnished surface reflected the muted light from the window. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves surrounded the desk and filled with her novels, books from her favorite authors, and family pictures—lots of family pictures.
Her gaze landed on the framed photograph of her husband Mike, front and center on the shelf. His warm brown eyes stared back at her, crinkled at the edges; his infectious laugh captured in the moment, frozen forever. God, Mike loved to laugh. People flocked to him. He was the one who said hello to strangers, helped little old ladies across the street, and even gave money to the man who spat on his windshield and wiped it with a dirty rag. However, as kind as he was, no one ever mistook him for a patsy. He was the most driven, moral man she had ever met.
Two opposites.
Even their friends in college were surprised when she and Mike hooked up.
Jane was the dreamer; the introverted romantic. Mike was the extrovert; the one who made her laugh, who dragged her out of her comfort zone and encouraged her to follow her dream of becoming an author. In return, she gave him unconditional love and stability—two things that were missing from his life growing up in foster homes.
Tonight, they were celebrating their five-year anniversary with family and good friends. It also was the launch of her fifteenth novel and Mike’s promotion at work. In a stroke of luck, they secured reservations at an upscale restaurant they’d been dying to try. Everything was perfect and going according to plan.
Next on their list would be deciding when to start a family. She couldn’t wait to begin that next chapter with Mike and hoped it would be soon. She was so ready to move on to the next phase of her life and settle down in a cozy house in the countryside.
Jane spent an hour luxuriously bathing and washing her hair. Standing in front of her fogged-up mirror and wiping the moisture away, she looked at her reflection and smiled. Her green eyes shone with happiness at how perfect her life was.
The biggest decision she had to make right now was what to do with her hair—up or down? She’d keep her whiskey brown hair down for tonight, just the way Mike liked it.
Next up was deciding what to wear. Jane opened her closet door and pulled out two dresses: a sexy short black dress she recently purchased, as well as a sleeveless light blue cocktail dress gathered on the side with the back down to there.
Hmmm. Mike hadn’t seen either dress yet. She decided to surprise him with the blue one—he loved that color on her. She put it on, looked in the full-length mirror, and twirled—yep, perfect.
Jane poured herself a glass of wine, turned on some smooth jazz, and walked into the living room to admire the view from the window. It overlooked Boston’s iconic botanical garden and the swan boats gliding by. As she opened the window to let in fresh air, the sweet scent of lilac with undertones of exhaust filled the room. Excited children’s voices, cars honking in the distance, and a lone trumpeter playing drifted up from the streets below, vying with the silence.
Jane loved their condo. Right in the center of everything. Could life get any better than this?
Her life was everything she dreamed of and more.
Until a knock on the door—a simple rap, rap, rap—changed the course of her future.