Penny’s secrets can ruin a presidential contender, got her family murdered…and mark her as the next hit.
For thirteen years, Penny Sparks has managed to hide from the political powers who murdered her family. When she unwittingly exposes her true identity, not only is she marked for death, but the people closest to her risk meeting the same fate.
Jake Winters is out of rehab and coming to grips with his demons. When he meets his sister’s roommate, Jake believes Penny might be that someone who can help him find life after rock star status…until her secrets blow up his world.
With a government agent turned hit man closing in on her, Penny and Jake race to expose the presidential contender behind the murders of her family. Even if they win the race with death, the murder that stands between them could end their hope for a new life.
N N LIGHT
If you’re a fan of romantic suspense, this is a must read. If you’re a fan of suspense and/or political thrillers, you’ll love it!
KAM’S PLACE REVIEWS
Like the other "Love and Murder" books in the series, Brenda crafted a story full of mystery, corruption, bit of romance, and ended it all with a happily ever after.
MARY KENNEDY EASTHAM, AUTHOR
Brenda Whiteside does a wonderful job of drawing you into the story with her masterful development of the characters.
KAT DORAN, AUTHOR The characters are complex and well written. The conflict is logical and understandable for the situation. An interesting take is the villain's point of view.
Jake nodded, but all he could concentrate on were
Penny’s last words before the officer appeared. When
they were alone again, he threw up his hands. “What do
you mean, go back to Phoenix? Why the hell would I
She turned her back on him, went to the open door
of the bathroom, and lifted her clothes from the hook.
Beneath the thin, hospital gown her spine was straight,
her movements tight, as if coiled and ready to spring.
“Penny, I know how much she meant to you.” How
much she meant to both of them. He wanted to hold
her, share their loss. “I’m not leaving you.”
Untying the gown, she let it drop around her feet,
and sidestepped out of the heap. She pulled the dark
gray sweater over her head then stepped into black
velvet jeans, refusing to make eye contact or speak as
she sat on the green plastic chair.
This was killing him. The need to hold her, help
her with her pain—his pain—rushed through him.
Haltingly, he made his way to her, touched her head,
and waited while she zipped her boots. “Penny.” She
resisted, but he tipped her chin, forcing her to look up.
“Come on, baby. You don’t have to worry about me