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Ever since a devastating family tragedy seventeen years ago, Grace Bighill has struggled to keep her remaining family from falling apart. Then the discovery of her mother’s body in the woods unearths a connection to a decades old murder case, and Grace is dragged into a politician’s bitter bid for revenge.
Constable Mike Davenport’s days in Aspen Lake are numbered. He’s ready to take his next step up the career ladder somewhere a lot more cosmopolitan. He’s avoided any emotional attachments, despite having fallen hard for a certain stubborn local. But when a body turns up, Mike’s careful intentions collapse in the face of Grace’s grief and her exhaustive efforts to care for her family.
A search for answers leads Grace and Mike down a twisted path proving no one can escape their roots. But someone might die trying.
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Series: Aspen Lake Series #3
Grace Bighill hustled to wipe down the recently vacated table and pocketed the ten-dollar tip from a forty-dollar tab. Waitressing at The Back Forty, Aspen Lake’s version of a dive bar, was demanding work, especially on a Friday night during tourist season. She spared a second to catch her breath, but the stink of body odor and beer mixed with the August heat didn’t provide a lot of relief.
Unnoticed by patrons who swayed to country music blasting from ancient speakers, she slapped her rag down. The dim lighting and neon bar signs gave the illusion of a good time waiting to happen. For the patrons, anyway.
A college-aged kid knocked into her on his rush by, hand pressed to his mouth. She really hoped he made it all the way to the toilet or there was a mop bucket in her future. Tourists. You had to love them, unless you were serving them or cleaning up after them. Then you kind of hated them. Take the guy at the pool table looking to sink a solid in the right-hand corner. He ordered drinks like it was his job to make her run and fetch things.
Then there was Ms. Do-You-Serve-a-Decent-Cabernet perched at bar flashing her platinum credit card and boobs at the guy more interested in his phone then her D cups. Didn’t stop Grace from rooting for her. She tipped an extra fifteen percent when she got lucky.
But if one more hipster in skinny jeans ordered some complicated cocktail, she was going to flip a shingle. The Back Forty was a bar in the middle of nowhere. They served cold beer, cheap wine, and free peanuts. The bartenders might be persuaded to toss a celery stalk in a glass of vodka and tomato juice. Unless they were out of celery.