Feisty private investigator Cassidy Clark teams up with her old college friend, attorney Breecie Lemay, as urgent matters take them to Italy.
They ride the fast trains between Rome, Florence, and beyond. With more questions than answers about the death of their mutual friend, they journey to Tuscany and Sienna, and into the walled ancient city of Monteriggioni.
Train tracks. Muddied tire tracks.
Drugs and their Lords.
While she knew of their existence in Tucson even prior to Joseph ‘Bananas’ Bonanno, Cassidy never dreamed she’d be investigating the mob.
It is no dream.
It’s her worst nightmare.
Jaxon Giles’ beloved dog is dead. He can’t prove it, but he knows who killed Gecko. His stalking ex-wife wants to take away anything and anyone he loves.
Private investigator Cassidy Clark agrees to run surveillance, while in the midst of helping the city of Tucson.
Women are disappearing. Gone. Were they murdered? Kidnapped and being held captive? A cult that enticed them to leave all belongings behind?
Without bodies and any crime scenes, there is no DNA. No evidence. No trace.
Skin isn’t the only game in town, but for plastic surgeon Marcus Armstrong, it’s his passion and his profit.
Sterling Falls’ grand opening isn’t going as planned. Instead she sees a gun-yielding man shot dead on her new jewelry showroom floor, and the woman that mortally wounded him? A bag lady.
Not the first two customers Sterling envisioned.
Feeling neglected by the man that brought her to Tucson, she enjoyed the attention of the handsome plastic surgeon. After all, what harm could there be in his flirtations? She had sold him an $80,000 engagement ring.
What woman could say no?
Warnings become death threats because she knows too much.
She knows nothing.
She can trust no one.
He prays for prey. His prayers have just been answered.
Lauren Visconti loses everyone she loves. They don’t walk out the door. They die. The Lauren Visconti Curse.
Her in-your-face magazine, CoverBoy, might have crossed a few lines. Now it appeared the curse had morphed. Now anyone Lauren had any emotion toward, good or bad, was doomed to be slaughtered.
Success came with the magazine’s dichotomy—photos of almost naked men juxtaposed between serious investigative reporting. Her articles ran true stories. Most readers had heard of sex-slave trafficking. Most didn’t know it occurred in their own backyards. Some readers knew about podiatry mutilations—the hacking off of elongated second toes and even the total amputation of little toes, all in order to fit into the expensive designer shoes. Very few had heard about revirgination.
CoverBoy’s articles named names.
The Obeah Voodoo scared Lauren. But could it help save her? More likely any help would come from the handsome psychologist.
This is what Lauren had to believe.
Just when romance author Chyna Blaze decides to give up her life of fear and anxiety, and the inevitable panic-attacks that ensue, she faces a new problem. Her peers are being knocked-off, one at a time, and the persistent detective insists she’s high on the list.
When her publicist arranges for a couple of fake dates with the well-known literary giant, she finds the idea annoying but harmless.
Orson Locke had given up writing years ago, but he isn’t giving up any of his vices. He likes his sugar straight out of the cans of white icing, chased by plenty of bourbon. He likes his Poe. And he likes his temptations well-sated.