When a loved one goes missing…and no one believes you…
Weeping in front of customers isn’t Laney Adams’s style. She would have gone unnoticed if security expert Teague Johnson hadn’t come to her grooming shop to pick up his boss’s dog, Cutter. Something about Teague—or maybe it’s the uncannily perceptive canine—compels her to open up about her best friend who’s gone missing and how she feels responsible. The confession reminds Teague of his own secret guilt. He can’t turn away. With the help of the Foxworth Foundation—and Cutter—Laney and Teague launch a dangerous search that leads to unexpected twists…and undeniable passion.
“I introduced them. This is my fault.”
Instinctively Teague reached across the table and put his hand over Laney’s. “You didn’t know.”
He needed to know more about what had triggered her worry.
“Tell me what about your friend’s texts you felt were off. You showed them to the police?”
She grimaced again as she nodded. “They thought it was just drunk texting. I know better.”
“Because?”
She reached into the low front pocket of her shirt—when had scrubs become somehow sexy? he wondered—and pulled out a phone. She tapped it a few times, then held it out to him.
He took it and read the message:
Take care of Pepper 4me, pls? He’s such a gd dog. Thx
“Seems innocuous enough,” Teague said.
“Yes. Except for three things. Pepper? A cat. And a she.” She took a deep breath. “And she’s been dead for ten years.”
Cutter’s Code: Men of honor offering the ultimate in private witness protection
Dear Reader,
I once set up a friend on a blind date. While they were out doing the traditional dinner and a movie, I sat at home in a panic. It would go horribly, they would have a horrible time, they would hate each other and then both hate me, what was I thinking? As time passed and my friend didn’t call to berate me, and I couldn’t reach her, that writer’s imagination that is both blessing and curse went crazy. By midnight I’d decided they’d both been killed in a car accident. By 2:00 a.m., they’d picked up a hitchhiker who turned out to be an ax murderer. By 4:00 a.m., I’d sent my friend into the clutches of a serial killer.
Ten months later, they got married. They’d been talking all that time, and never once thought of me and my wicked imagination. Hmpf.
I recovered, basked in my own cleverness for a while, wore the official title of “matchmaker” at the wedding with some embarrassment, and laughed at those awful moments when I feared the worst. But apparently I never really forgot them, because they resurfaced as I was toying with the beginnings of this book. May this be as close as you ever come to this scenario!
Happy reading,
Justine
Operation Blind Date
Justine Davis
JUSTINE DAVIS
lives on Puget Sound in Washington State, watching big ships and the occasional submarine go by, and sharing the neighborhood with assorted wildlife, including a pair of bald eagles, deer, a bear or two and a tailless raccoon. In the few hours when she’s not planning, plotting or writing her next book, her favorite things are photography, knitting her way through a huge yarn stash and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.
Connect with Justine at her website, justinedavis.com, at Twitter.com/Justine_D_Davis, or on Facebook at Facebook.com/JustineDareDavis.
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A lonely little girl.
A mistreated pup who needed a home.
A perfect match.
Ten to nineteen, important years for a girl.
He was the brother I didn’t have.
My playmate, my confidant.
My comfort through some rough family years.
He showed me the heart hole only a dog can fill.
And the real meaning of unconditional love.
Decades later, and a slew of dogs afterwards,
I miss him yet. Love ya’, Scamper!
—Pam Baker
This is the second in a series of dedications from readers who have shared the pain of the loss of a beloved dog. For more information visit my website at www.justinedavis.com.
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