Mona Murphy returns to Copper Springs to attend her grandfather’s memorial service. His passing appeared ordinary enough"the official report stated he’d tripped and fallen down the staircase. Yet Preston Hitchcock, the insurance agent who’d sold a half million dollar policy to Mona’s grandfather days before the old man died, isn’t convinced, especially when bloody towels are discovered in the backyard.

And that’s only the beginning. Who is the hit-and-run driver who attempts to run Mona down? Why is her old boyfriend more ardent for her affections now than ever before? And why is Mona helpless to guard her heart from the devastating influence of Preston’s practiced lady-killer smiles?

Secrets Mona never knew existed in Copper Springs become exposed. But none is so revealing as the one she fights to hide"and the very one that might save her life.

REVIEW

"...Miss Mae is definitely a writer to watch, and this story one you want to buy."

Reviewed by: Cheri Jetton
noveleditions.com

EXCERPT

“Well, you’re sure not imagining being stuck here, lady. It’s real.” He pushed aside a box on a table and climbed atop. “Maybe if we stack some boxes on this table, I can reach the ceiling and kick in enough space to crawl through. Are you able to lift any of those on the floor?”
“But all we need to do is wait for Miss Flowers to return from lunch.”
“Mona.” He scowled in impatience. “Do you get the impression she makes regular visits down here? Hell, no. We’re on our own.”
She gasped, the hairs on her neck electrifying. “What’s that?”

“Where?” Preston followed the direction of her pointing finger, whipping his gaze toward the overhead heating pipes. A vapor of steam snaked through a joint, followed quickly by another. A small cloud formed, rising and spreading along the ceiling.

“The radiators have been cranked up.” Mona blinked in alarm. Mounting pressure rattled the pipes, the escaping steam hissing like an unattended teakettle. Sticky moistness saturated the air, and water droplets beaded on her exposed skin.

“We have to get out of here.” Determination hardened Preston’s face. Jumping off the table, he threw boxes aside, plowing his way to the end of the room. Mona grabbed the doorknob, shaking it. Her fingers slipped on the damp metal, but it didn’t budge.

“I see a door.” Preston thrust back a stack of cartons. Perspiration clouded his glasses, and he swiped a hand across his forehead. “Come on.”

Mona squeezed through the cramped aisleway he’d created, reaching the dark corner as he removed the last obstacle. In a grim voice, he said, “It’s locked.”