Thanksgiving Secrets: Love & Secrets in Asheville, Book 1

When Detective Reece Cannon arrives in charming Asheville for Thanksgiving, her heart is as guarded as the secrets she’s left behind.

But when the town’s golden boy, a ruggedly irresistible brewery owner, becomes the target of holiday sabotage, she’s drawn into a mystery as tempting — and dangerous — as he is.

In Asheville, secrets simmer underneath the holiday cheer: Fiona, a fierce spirit with a vendetta; Mike, a reformed rebel trying to outrun his past; and Hunter — the brooding, fiercely protective single dad with eyes as dark as his reputation.

It’s risky for Reece to be near him, but if she’s going to untangle his world of secrets, she’ll have to step dangerously close — no matter how bad he infuriates her.

• Holiday
• Enemies to Lovers
• Touch of Mystery
• Romantic Suspense
• Redemption and Forgiveness
• Parental Love and Responsibility
• Trust and Healing

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“I’m sure you do,” I replied, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “I mean, why wouldn’t you? It’s not like there’s profit in cutting corners or anything.”

The sarcasm in my tone was thick enough to cut with a knife. I could see Mike shifting uncomfortably beside Hunter, clearly wishing he was anywhere but in the middle of this increasingly tense exchange.

Hunter’s brow furrowed in concentration, and I found my gaze roving over his biceps and up his muscled chest. He wasn’t just a good-looking man, he was built like a Roman gladiator.

He leaned in, his voice low and tight. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what your problem is, but I suggest you finish your drink and move along. We don’t need your kind of trouble here.”

“My kind of trouble?” I laughed, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “And what kind would that be? The kind that asks questions? The kind that doesn’t just accept whatever story they’re fed?”

I could feel the eyes of nearby patrons on us now, curious glances darting our way. Part of me knew I should stop, that I was making a scene and probably ruining any chance of enjoying the rest of my stay in Asheville. But another part — the part that had made me a good detective — couldn’t let it go.

“You know what?” I said, standing up and fishing some bills out of my pocket to pay for my barely-touched beer and pretzel that hadn’t come out yet. “I think I will leave. But don’t think for a second that this conversation is over.”

As I pushed my way out of the brewery and into the late afternoon sun, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just stumbled into something much bigger than a simple vacation spat. The printout in my cabin, Hunter’s defensiveness, the whispers I’d overheard at the diner… it all swirled together in my mind, pieces of a puzzle I hadn’t even realized I was trying to solve.

So much for a quiet getaway, I thought ruefully. It seemed that no matter how far I ran, trouble had a way of finding me — or maybe I had a way of finding it.