Blurb:
A second chance at love could come with a killer price tag.
Jenny Douglas has the grim task of returning her friend’s body to the man she loved.
Steve Davies is grieving for the woman he lost while trying to care for the foster child she left behind—a little girl he has come to think of as his own.
But after Cara’s murder, Jenny and Steve must work together to find out who the killer is. And if a little bit of passion gets in the way, well…it’s not the real thing…or is it?
Content Warning: contains sexual content, and mental health issues that some may find confronting
Excerpt:
Jenny knew her eyes and nose were red. It wasn’t just the way people looked at her with understanding in their gazes, as much as the tight feeling around her eyes and the pulsing ache in her head. She shifted in her seat as the plane landed and taxied to the gate. Everyone about her hustled and bustled and she let them go. She certainly wasn’t in any hurry to get to her destination.
When she slowly rose and collected her bag, the paper in her pocket rustled. It was the last letter from Cara, her best friend. Or at least a copy of it, handed to her when the body was released. The one Cara had written and hid as she lay dying in the dingy room where some maniac had attacked her. Jenny felt the lump in her throat, where it had been lodged since she received the call from the police.
Even as she left the plane, the attendants gave her their politely disinterested ‘we know you still have a long sad trip ahead of you’ smiles. She trudged up the now empty corridor. Thankfully Jenny had arranged for the funeral house to meet the plane and retrieve the coffin. It had been very hard flying from Melbourne to Brisbane knowing that Cara was below her in a casket and that this would be the last trip she made.
Her carry-on bag weighed her down as she reached the baggage claim area. The intercom ran continual notices and she scanned the bags, searching for hers and Cara’s. Finally the backpack and Cara’s expensive Gucci suitcase that she had tied yellow ribbons to came into view and she trudged forward snagging them both and retreating away from the knots of happy people. She dragged them to the trolleys, slipped a coin into the release and pushed both the heavy bags onto it before heading for the door.
The intercom made its ding-dong noise again. “Paging Miss Jenny Douglas. Jenny Douglas. If you are in the terminal, could you please come to the information desk.”
“Oh God. What on earth has gone wrong now?” She muttered the words as she turned and pushed the trolley toward the information area.
Standing beside it was a man. He was tall and muscular, with a husky physique and black hair that curled slightly. Holding his hand was a young girl, Eurasian and finely built. Jenny guessed her to be about five or six years of age. A silent alarm rang in her brain. Could they possibly be looking for her?
She pushed over to the desk. “I’m Jenny Douglas and I think you paged me?”
The woman nodded and pointed to the two waiting. “Miss Douglas, Mr Davies and Lola had us page you.” She smiled blandly and sent a quizzical look at the man.
He ignored the blonde behind the counter and held out a hand. “Steve. Steve Davies.”
Jenny knew his name. It was on the crumpled paper in her pocket and her eyes stung and watered again.
His voice carried a harsh quality and she was almost certain it was because he too grieved for Cara, if the slight pinkness of his eyes was anything to go by.
“Hi Steve.” She held out her hand and he gripped it, pumping her hand in the regulation three firm movements. She snuck a look at the little girl who squeezed in against the big man’s side. She gazed back but was silent.
“I umm… have you got transportation organised?” His shoulders slumped. “Your email said you were coming in on this flight and the… Cara…” He stopped and she took pity on him.
“Yes, Cara’s casket is being met by the undertaker. And to answer your question, not yet. I was going to grab a taxi…” She stopped short as he shook his head.
“Then we’ll take you. Where are you staying?”
Jenny named her hotel and he grimaced. “It’s a bit rundown.” She shrugged, this trip alone was a stretch financially, but she couldn’t … wouldn’t do anything less for Cara.
He nodded and for an instant she wondered what he was thinking then she shook herself. He was grieving for Cara and she was a fool. A size eighteen fool at that. “Can we… go?” She waited for him to lead the way, the little girl gripping onto his hand. Jenny wondered about her, she hadn’t said a word, just watched her with lost eyes, the sort she saw time and time again in her profession as a psychologist.
They left the terminal, making their way through the maze of concrete works to the large multi-storied car park as loud and impersonal as any other, but he moved unerringly toward an older model sedan and stopped, clicked the button on the keys and lights flashed with a beep. Lola let go of his hand and climbed into the vehicle and Jenny wondered once again at the odd behaviour of the child, then shrugged. The girl wasn’t her patient and she doubted the man beside her wanted to hear her thoughts right now.
A second chance at love could come with a killer price tag.
Jenny Douglas has the grim task of returning her friend’s body to the man she loved.
Steve Davies is grieving for the woman he lost while trying to care for the foster child she left behind—a little girl he has come to think of as his own.
But after Cara’s murder, Jenny and Steve must work together to find out who the killer is. And if a little bit of passion gets in the way, well…it’s not the real thing…or is it?
Content Warning: contains sexual content, and mental health issues that some may find confronting
Excerpt:
Jenny knew her eyes and nose were red. It wasn’t just the way people looked at her with understanding in their gazes, as much as the tight feeling around her eyes and the pulsing ache in her head. She shifted in her seat as the plane landed and taxied to the gate. Everyone about her hustled and bustled and she let them go. She certainly wasn’t in any hurry to get to her destination.
When she slowly rose and collected her bag, the paper in her pocket rustled. It was the last letter from Cara, her best friend. Or at least a copy of it, handed to her when the body was released. The one Cara had written and hid as she lay dying in the dingy room where some maniac had attacked her. Jenny felt the lump in her throat, where it had been lodged since she received the call from the police.
Even as she left the plane, the attendants gave her their politely disinterested ‘we know you still have a long sad trip ahead of you’ smiles. She trudged up the now empty corridor. Thankfully Jenny had arranged for the funeral house to meet the plane and retrieve the coffin. It had been very hard flying from Melbourne to Brisbane knowing that Cara was below her in a casket and that this would be the last trip she made.
Her carry-on bag weighed her down as she reached the baggage claim area. The intercom ran continual notices and she scanned the bags, searching for hers and Cara’s. Finally the backpack and Cara’s expensive Gucci suitcase that she had tied yellow ribbons to came into view and she trudged forward snagging them both and retreating away from the knots of happy people. She dragged them to the trolleys, slipped a coin into the release and pushed both the heavy bags onto it before heading for the door.
The intercom made its ding-dong noise again. “Paging Miss Jenny Douglas. Jenny Douglas. If you are in the terminal, could you please come to the information desk.”
“Oh God. What on earth has gone wrong now?” She muttered the words as she turned and pushed the trolley toward the information area.
Standing beside it was a man. He was tall and muscular, with a husky physique and black hair that curled slightly. Holding his hand was a young girl, Eurasian and finely built. Jenny guessed her to be about five or six years of age. A silent alarm rang in her brain. Could they possibly be looking for her?
She pushed over to the desk. “I’m Jenny Douglas and I think you paged me?”
The woman nodded and pointed to the two waiting. “Miss Douglas, Mr Davies and Lola had us page you.” She smiled blandly and sent a quizzical look at the man.
He ignored the blonde behind the counter and held out a hand. “Steve. Steve Davies.”
Jenny knew his name. It was on the crumpled paper in her pocket and her eyes stung and watered again.
His voice carried a harsh quality and she was almost certain it was because he too grieved for Cara, if the slight pinkness of his eyes was anything to go by.
“Hi Steve.” She held out her hand and he gripped it, pumping her hand in the regulation three firm movements. She snuck a look at the little girl who squeezed in against the big man’s side. She gazed back but was silent.
“I umm… have you got transportation organised?” His shoulders slumped. “Your email said you were coming in on this flight and the… Cara…” He stopped and she took pity on him.
“Yes, Cara’s casket is being met by the undertaker. And to answer your question, not yet. I was going to grab a taxi…” She stopped short as he shook his head.
“Then we’ll take you. Where are you staying?”
Jenny named her hotel and he grimaced. “It’s a bit rundown.” She shrugged, this trip alone was a stretch financially, but she couldn’t … wouldn’t do anything less for Cara.
He nodded and for an instant she wondered what he was thinking then she shook herself. He was grieving for Cara and she was a fool. A size eighteen fool at that. “Can we… go?” She waited for him to lead the way, the little girl gripping onto his hand. Jenny wondered about her, she hadn’t said a word, just watched her with lost eyes, the sort she saw time and time again in her profession as a psychologist.
They left the terminal, making their way through the maze of concrete works to the large multi-storied car park as loud and impersonal as any other, but he moved unerringly toward an older model sedan and stopped, clicked the button on the keys and lights flashed with a beep. Lola let go of his hand and climbed into the vehicle and Jenny wondered once again at the odd behaviour of the child, then shrugged. The girl wasn’t her patient and she doubted the man beside her wanted to hear her thoughts right now.