Brenda Novak - In Seconds

“I felt a real connection to the characters…

It was an exciting, intriguing read.”

—First for Women magazine on Killer Heat

Novak “builds her characters and plot by adding genuine and

recognizable feelings—from angst to passion to terror and

beyond… A great end to a wonderful series.”

—Suspense Magazine on Killer Heat

Body Heat “is a definite page-turner.”

—RT Book Reviews

“With such a heart-stopping hero and plucky heroine,

what could I do but give this book a Perfect 10?”

—Romance Reviews Today on Body Heat

“Novak expertly blends romantic thrills, suspenseful chills, and

realistically complicated characters together in a white-knuckle

read that is certain to keep readers riveted to the last page.”

—Booklist on Body Heat

“Brenda Novak has written the best high-action thriller

of 2010…. From page one I was immediately hooked on this

fast action plot that was like solving a Chinese puzzle box.”

—Midwest Book Review on White Heat

With “distinctive characters and a nail biting plot, Novak’s

White Heat is flawless and easily a Best of 2010 contender.”

—Suspense Magazine

“A fast-paced romantic thriller guaranteed to keep you

entranced to the climactic end.”

—Fresh Fiction on White Heat

“Novak writes gripping romantic thrillers.”

—Library Journal

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Larry and Gloria Morrill—

Thank you for opening your home and your hearts.

Dear Reader,

Last November, when one of my best friends suggested I go with her to Montana to spend a few days with her parents, I agreed. It wasn’t like me to take the time. I have a family, tight writing deadlines and lots of travel for speaking and conferences. But I’d never been to Montana. I wanted to see it and believed it would be therapeutic to have some “girlfriend” time.

I flew into Kalispell, which has a tiny but attractive airport, and met Dara there. I was looking forward to a quiet, scenic getaway and that’s exactly what I got. I didn’t realize that in these modern times, places still exist where there’s no cell service for miles, but I have to admit I really like the idea and hope it never changes—it stirs my imagination to think technology hasn’t completely tamed the Wild West.

We stayed in the Chain of Lakes area, right on Crystal Lake, which was so beautiful (especially in the mornings with the mist coming off the water) it stole my breath. Even better than the scenery was being able to feel like a kid again as Dara’s parents, Larry and Gloria Morrill, took care of us with delicious food, interesting anecdotes about their family history (they now live where they grew up), research help, sightseeing trips and love. I will always remember my stay fondly—and associate that trip with this book. Not only is the story set in a fictional town I’ve placed not far from Happy’s Inn, which is a stone’s throw from their house, I started the manuscript while sitting in one of the bedrooms in their home.

I’ve posted pictures of Crystal Lake and Libby (where Myles works) on my Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Brenda-Novak/120794854630624). Please go there if you’d like to see what I saw (and “like” the page). Also, I’d love for you to visit brendanovak.com, where you can sign up for my mailing list, peruse my backlist and future releases and join the many authors, readers and philanthropists who support my annual online auction for diabetes research (my son has this disease). I hold this event at my website May 1 to May 31. So far we’ve raised over $1.4 million and are continuing the fight. Here’s to a cure!

I hope you enjoy Laurel and Myles’s story!

Brenda Novak

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

Pineview, Montana

It was the murder that triggered everything. The moment Laurel Hodges—Vivian Stewart as of two years ago—heard about it, everything she’d been through, everything she’d done to escape her past, came rushing back at her. And it happened at a place where she’d felt completely safe only seconds before. She was having highlights put in her hair at Claire’s Salon, which wasn’t much of a salon, just an add-on to her friend’s small home.

Although Claire had grown up here, Vivian had lived in Pineview only since she’d assumed her most recent identity. She’d chosen this town because it had an extremely low crime rate, it was so far from where she’d been before and it was on the backside of nowhere. She’d never dreamed the people who’d been chasing her for four years would think to look here. And it’d been a long enough stretch of peace and quiet to believe the terrible years were over. She’d left her old self behind, adjusted, established her fledgling purse-design business and begun to live again. She and her two children—Mia, seven, and Jake, nine—were finally starting to belong.

And now, in the blink of an eye, everything they’d created here felt threatened.

“What’d you say?” Lifting the hood of the commercial hair dryer, she leaned out so she could hear. The postman, George Grannuto, had just walked through the doors Claire had flung wide so they could enjoy the breezy June morning while she vented the fumes of the hair-coloring chemicals.

“Pat Stueben’s dead,” he repeated, handing Claire her mail. “He’s been murdered.” His face, drained of its usual ruddy color, made him appear years older than he was. Vivian knew his exact age—fifty-five—because she’d attended his birthday party last month. His wife was part of her Thursday-night book group.

Claire, only five foot three or so, leaned on the broom she’d been using to sweep up hair. Vivian had wanted a sassy cut to signify the freedom and happiness she’d been experiencing so often of late. She’d also gone back to being a blonde, which was her natural color. But going so short was a big change. Now she couldn’t help staring at the dark brown locks lying on the floor, feeling as if she’d just shed her skin.

“How? When?” Claire brought a hand to her chest. George’s words had obviously shocked her as much as they had Vivian. With the disappearance of her mother fifteen years ago and the death of her husband after only a few years of marriage, Claire had had more than her share of bad news. And now this… “Leanne and I saw him and Gertie at Fresh Ketch last night,” she said. “They were in the booth next to ours.”

Tall and bony, George resembled a cartoon stork delivering a baby when he carried his bulging mailbag down Claire’s little dead-end street, and the shorts that went with his warm-weather uniform didn’t improve his appearance. They revealed stiltlike legs with knobby knees and varicose veins. But he always wore a smile.

Except today.

“Someone called him,” he explained, “wanting to rent one of those cabins he owns over on the north shore. So after breakfast he drove around the lake to show the property—and never came back.”