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Suspected of a crime she knows she didn’t commit...
All she wants for Christmas is to remember.
Blood on her blouse. A gun in her hand. A cartel leader’s dead body in front of her. Widow Asia Stratton can’t remember what happened—just that she’s been framed. The only way to prove her innocence is to work with her ex-sweetheart, Nebraska state trooper Slade Jackson. But can they clear her name before this Christmas turns even deadlier?
SHAREE STOVER is a Colorado native transplanted to Nebraska, where she lives with her husband, three children and two dogs. Her mother instilled in her the love of books before Sharee could read, along with the promise “If you can read, you can do anything.” When she’s not writing, she enjoys time with her family, long walks with her obnoxiously lovable German shepherd and crocheting. Find her at shareestover.com or on Twitter, @shareestover.
Secret Past
Silent Night Suspect
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
Silent Night Suspect
Sharee Stover
ISBN: 978-000-8-90080-9
SILENT NIGHT SUSPECT
© 2019 Sharee Stover
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Version: 2020-03-02
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“If they run us off the road, we’re dead!”
Slade accelerated, hoping to outrun the pursuers, but the truck stayed close behind.
Another slam propelled them sideways.
Slade jerked the wheel, and his response had the car deviating through the ice-covered median as he battled the velocity forcing them out of control.
Heart jackhammering against his ribs, Slade pumped the brakes, but the car seemed to have a mind of its own and continued to speed up.
Asia screamed, and he jerked the wheel, avoiding a mile-marker pole by inches.
“I don’t have brakes!” He slammed his foot repeatedly against the pedal, but it was useless.
“Slade, do something!”
But he couldn’t stop.
Desperate, Slade yanked the wheel. The overcorrection sent the car careening into the ditch. “Hang on!”
They slammed on the driver’s side, went airborne, then smashed down again. The impact shook every part of his body.
Each horrific recurring tug of gravity imprisoned them on a nightmare amusement park ride...
What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.
—Psalm 56:3
