Two homicide detectives must separate the truth from a web of puzzling lies while investigating a murder victim’s friends and lovers in Lost Beach, Texas.
Detective Nicole Lawson is fed up with her job and nonexistent love life. Her first date in months gets cut short by an urgent call from the chief of police. A body has been discovered at Lighthouse Point, and the medical examiner finds an array of strange clues. When the death is ruled a homicide, the news quickly reverberates through Nicole’s beachside hometown.
 
The Lost Beach police department swings into high gear. Leading the investigation is Emmet Davis, a veteran detective who is Nicole’s fiercest rival at work and also the man she has secretly harbored feelings toward for years. With Emmet calling the shots, Nicole sets out to search for leads, starting with the enigmatic yoga instructor who first discovered the body. Nicole is certain the witness knows more than she’s revealing and may even hold the key to unlocking the case.
When another person turns up dead under suspicious circumstances, Nicole sees a bizarre pattern, but no one believes her theory. Under the gun to solve the case, Nicole must put aside her tumultuous feelings and work closely with Emmet to figure out who is targeting her beloved hometown . . . before she becomes a target herself.

Nicole Lawson felt naked.

It wasn't the minidress or the strappy sandals. It wasn't even the weird slit that left the entire side of her thigh on display.

It was the Smith & Wesson .40 caliber pistol-or absence of it-that was making her feel exposed. She was so accustomed to those twenty-nine ounces riding on her hip, and the lack of weight was making her antsy as hell.

She checked her phone, then flipped it over.

Nicole glanced around the restaurant, which was wall-to-wall couples, of course. She'd never been in here before, and the decorations grated on her nerves. They were going for elegant, she knew-this was the Nautilus, after all-and it wasn't like the place was covered in pink balloons. The bloodred rosebuds on every table looked nice, actually. Ditto for the votive candles that emitted a soft glow. Really, it was the glitter that was giving her hives, all those tiny gold hearts sprinkled across her table like pixie dust. Just the sight was making her feel even stupider than she already did in this ridiculous dress.

She checked her phone again.

For the first time ever she had a date on Valentine's, and not just any date. Tonight was the date. She and David had gone out three times already. The last time had ended with intense kissing in his car, which definitely would have continued if he hadn't been called into work. Nothing like being summoned to an autopsy to kill the mood.

He wanted to make it up to her, though. Those were his exact words when he'd invited her to this expensive restaurant. And so Nicole had squeezed herself into a low-cut black dress that gave her the illusion of boobs, borrowed her sister's stilettos, and come here to meet him for dinner.

"Are we still waiting?"

Her server was back again with that pitying look that was almost as annoying as the glitter.

She smiled up at him. "We are."

"And would you like some wine, perhaps? Maybe a cocktail?"

"I'm good." She nodded at her half-finished water. "Thanks."

He walked off, leaving her to her silent phone. No text, no voice message. She'd even checked her email, but zip.

Nicole looked around, sure people were staring at her. God, the white-haired couple behind her was already paying their bill.

Her phone vibrated on the table, and she snatched it up.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?"

Not David. She closed her eyes.

"I'm out. Why?"

"Didn't you get the call?" Emmet asked her, and she pictured him at the police station surrounded by the typical Saturday-night chaos.

"I'm off tonight."

"Not anymore."

Her phone beeped with an incoming call, and she checked the screen.

"Listen, that's Denise. I have to go." Nicole got off with Emmet and took the call.

"Hey, what's up?"

"The chief asked me to reach you. He needs you at a scene."

Damn it.

Nicole pushed her chair back and grabbed her purse. "Does he know I'm off tonight?"

"Yep."

She unzipped her little black clutch and left a ten on the table. They were going to have to bus it, even though she hadn't ordered anything.

"Well, what's going on?"

"One sec," Denise said, and cut over to another call. When things were busy, the Lost Beach PD receptionist doubled as a dispatcher. She was also the chief's right hand, doing everything from managing his calendar to deflecting reporters who called in from time to time.

The front of the restaurant was packed with waiting couples. Nicole scanned the bar and the area around the hostess stand but didn't see any tall, handsome doctors looking around for their date. It was 7:32. She'd officially been stood up.

"Nicole?"

"I'm here." She squeezed past the people and pushed open the door. A cold gust hit her, and she stepped back.

"He needs you at Lighthouse Point right away. And keep it off the radio."

"What's going on?" she asked again.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, what did he say?"

"He said, 'I need Lawson at Lighthouse Point ASAP. Keep it off the radio.' That's all I have."

Nicole hunched her head down, wishing for her leather jacket as she strode across the parking lot. It had filled in since she'd arrived.

"What's your ETA?" Denise asked.

"I'll be there in five."

"Roger that."
 
Excerpted from Liar's Point by Laura Griffin Copyright © 2024 by Laura Griffin. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved.

​A talented genetic analyst and a detective team up to solve an elusive cold case in the next standalone romantic suspense from New York Times bestselling author Laura Griffin.

Forensic genealogist Rowan Healy has made a name for herself by helping investigators trace the family trees of violent criminals who have eluded justice for years. But the pressure of police work has left her burned out, and she’s shifted her focus to helping adoptees find their biological parents.
 
Austin detective Jack Bruner has spent his career tracking down vicious criminals—with the notable exception of the West Campus Rapist, a meticulous offender who has never been identified. When a new victim comes forward, Jack realizes the target of his investigation is escalating and Rowan is the only person who stands a chance of cracking this case.
 
Moved by Jack’s dedication to finding justice for the victims and the intriguing details of the case he lays out, Rowan agrees to help through her DNA research. As the data leads them down dark and twisty paths, Rowan and Jack must race against the clock to find a ruthless killer before he strikes again.

A chime emanated from Rowan's purse. She pulled out her phone and read a text from the Austin lawyer whose client Rowan had been working for all week.

Got your email. Omg TY!!

The words were followed by three halo emojis, and Rowan felt a swell of pride.

Anytime, she texted back. So glad I could help.

This attorney had sent her three referrals over the past six months, and now there would likely be more on the way. Rowan's anemic bank account was finally getting a boost. It couldn't come soon enough. Her December credit card bill had just come in, and she hadn't even wanted to look at it.

"Rowan Healy?"

She jerked her head up as a man stepped over. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair. He wore a black leather jacket with droplets of rain clinging to it. Rowan darted a glance at Lila. Her friend didn't look up, but she lifted an eyebrow in a way that told Rowan she'd sent this guy over here.

"Who's asking?" Rowan responded, even though she had a sneaking suspicion she knew, based on his deep voice. Not to mention the super-direct look in his brown eyes.

"Jack Bruner, Austin PD." He smiled slightly. "Mind if I sit?"

She sighed and nodded at the empty seat across from her.

He slid into the booth and rested his elbows on the table. He looked her over, and she managed not to squirm.

"You're a hard woman to reach."

Ha. He had no idea how true that was.

"How'd you know to find me here?" she asked.

"Ric Santos told me you hang out here."

She couldn't hide her surprise at the mention of Ric. She hadn't known they were friends. But she probably should have guessed. Law enforcement was a tight-knit group.

She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile. "Look, Detective, I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I'm afraid you've wasted your time."

"Just listen."

Two words.

A command, but not. When combined with that slight smile, it was more like a statement. Something she was going to do, even if she didn't realize it yet.

Rowan felt a surge of annoyance. But again, she gave him a nod.

Sasha appeared at the table and rested her cocktail tray on her hip. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked the detective.

"A Coke, please."

She nodded. "Rowan?"

"I'm good, thanks."

She walked off, her cascade of blond hair swinging behind her.

Rowan settled her attention on the detective.

"I'm with APD's violent crimes unit, as I mentioned on the phone," he said.

With every call, he'd politely identified himself and given a callback number. Rowan had called the number once and-equally politely-left a message with her response. But he'd stubbornly ignored it.

"I'm working on a case," he said, "and I could use your help."

Rowan nodded. "Like I told you before-"

He held up his hand and gave her a sharp look. Listen.

"It's a serial offender," he continued. "Eight sexual assaults." His dark brows furrowed. "This guy's careful. We've only recovered one DNA profile, the second attack in the series."

"If you've only got one profile, how do you know it's the same guy?"

"Because-"

Sasha was back already with a flirty smile. She placed the detective's soft drink in front of him, and he nodded his thanks.

"Because we know," he said after she left.

Rowan looked the man over. He had an athletic build, but not the steroid-infused look she was used to seeing with young cops. Then again, he wasn't that young. The touch of gray at his temples told her he was maybe ten years older than she was, probably late thirties. Or maybe it was the wise look in his eyes that told her that.

She sipped her drink and waited for more.

"A while ago we had the sample analyzed by a genetic genealogist," he said. "Spent a lot of money and time on that. They ran into some kind of wall, and the results were inconclusive, they said."

"What's 'a while'?"

"Come again?"

"How long ago did you have it analyzed?"

He hesitated a beat.

"Four years."

Rowan's breath caught. In terms of DNA technology, four years was like four decades. A lot had changed in that time-new techniques, new tools, new profiles in the databases.

But she tried to keep her face impassive as she folded her hands in front of her.

"I appreciate your effort to track me down," she said. It told her a lot about what kind of detective he was-precisely the kind that had prompted her to shift careers. "But unfortunately, I don't do police work anymore. You could say I'm retired."

"That's not what Ric told me."

She gritted her teeth. Damn it, she'd known doing him a favor would come back to bite her.

"Ric said you're selective, not retired." He paused, watching her. "He told me you gave him an assist recently and that your help was invaluable."

"I know what you're doing," Rowan said. She was immune to flattery, even from smooth-talking detectives who liked to play head games. "And I can appreciate the pressure you guys must be under with a serial case. But I'm not in that line of work anymore."

He leaned forward, and she eased back slightly.

"Let me be straight, Rowan." His eyes bored into hers. "I need your help right now. Not next month or next year. Not whenever you get bored with what you're doing and decide to come out of retirement. I don't care if I sound desperate. I'm on a ticking clock here."

Her stomach tightened at his words. And his prediction that she would backtrack on her career change irked her.

But he held her gaze across the table, and she felt that inexorable pull that had turned her life upside down too many times to count.
 
 
Excerpted from The Last Close Call by Laura Griffin Copyright © 2023 by Laura Griffin. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. 
​

Trouble comes in threes...
One doomed love affair after another has made lovely Alex Walton swear off men. Now, she's determined to try something that maybe she can succeed at: a writing career. Little does she know that a chance meeting with a strikingly handsome stranger, a mysterious obelisk, and a lost kingdom will change her life forever. As Alex is about to discover, truth can be stranger—and far more dangerous—than fiction.

...but true love comes only once.

After three years inside a terrorist organization, Phillip Turman is trying to rebuild his life. His first assignment is to pick up Alex Walton, the maid of honor for his best friend's wedding, at the airport. His second is to deal with his instant attraction to her. But his third may be the toughest: to keep Alex out of danger as his past—and her need to know about it—threaten to destroy their future.

A rereleased romantic suspense, The Art of Desire by Stacey Abrams writing as Selena Montgomery is action-packed & full throttle, with intriguing leads who are forced to spend more time together (yay!) as they attend a wedding, try to stay safe from various attacks, & realize that they’re both embroiled in the monarchic affairs of a country on the brink.
​
The hardest thing about reviewing this book is that it definitely feels like a romantic suspense book that released in 2002, for better or for worse. I mean no shade whatsoever by that comment. But there are aspects of characters & books that I remember enjoying as a reader in 2002 that I wouldn’t appreciate nearly as much now.

With that being said, the hero Phillip Turman is not always my fave, he also has a mustache (not my preferred facial hair accoutrement ), the shifts in perspective mid-chapter are a bit confusing, & the romantic suspense plot is kinda bonkers in moments.

But there are lots of things to appreciate about this book too. Phillip & Alex are very passionate & while Phillip sometimes frustrates with his temper, his unwillingness to fully appreciate Alex, &/or his strategies in trying to dissuade her from possible harm, I adore how Alex stands up for herself. She doesn’t fade into the background, she knows her worth, & she’s talented in so many different ways.

Though aspects of this book don’t always work for me I’d like to try another Selena Montgomery book in the future. Maybe it will work better for me.

An undercover FBI agent and an independent coffee shop owner must team up when a local barista is found dead and danger circles their coastal Texas town in this new romantic thriller from New York Times bestselling author Laura Griffin.
​
With two brothers on the police force, Leyla Breda is well aware of the rising crime in her small beach town, but she never expected it to show up on her doorstep. When Leyla finds one of her employees murdered in the alley behind her coffee shop, she’s deeply shaken, and as a new law enforcement officer in town begins to circle her place of business, her instincts only sharpen.
 
Sean Moran is on an undercover mission: The seaside community of Lost Beach may look like a picturesque postcard, but his team suspects it’s a point of intersection for several crime syndicates that the FBI has been investigating for years. Even so, when the brash and beautiful Leyla Breda starts bossing him around, he's immediately intrigued. He knows her brothers want him to back off, but every time he sees her, he feels more of a spark.
 
Leyla’s connections in the local community and Sean’s skills allow them to go deeper into the case together than they would be able to go alone. But when a single crime spirals into something much darker, Sean’s carefully planned mission takes a deadly turn.

Sean Moran slipped away from the party. The bride and groom had left under a shower of rice, but people were still milling around beneath swags of white lights, drinking the couple’s booze and enjoying the breeze off the water. Sean would have liked another drink, but he needed to get back to his condo. As he crossed the wooden bridge spanning the sand dunes, he spied a woman on the beach with a champagne flute in hand.

Leyla Breda.

Her formfitting dress looked silver in the moonlight, and it shimmered against her body as she strolled toward the surf. Nearing a piece of driftwood, she dropped her shoes to the sand and sat down. She nestled the flute at her feet, then lifted her arms and twisted her dark hair into a knot at the top of her head.

Sean stopped at the end of the bridge. He had about a hundred things left to do tonight, including contacting his boss.

Instead, he walked over to Leyla.

"How's the champagne?"

She jumped and turned around. Recognition flickered across her face, and her shoulders relaxed.

"It's good." She held up her glass. "You didn't have any?"

"Nope. Can I get you a refill?"

She smiled. "What, are you a waiter now, too?"

He stepped closer. "I'm Sean Moran, by the way." He held out his hand. "We never actually met."

"Leyla Breda." Her handshake was brisk and businesslike, but the warm look in her eyes gave him hope.

"Joel's little sister," he said.

"That's me."

He turned toward the water so he wouldn't be tempted to stare down the front of her dress.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you earlier," she said. "Things got really hectic."

"Looked like you had your hands full."

"So, are you here for Joel or Miranda?"

He looked at her. "Joel."

She tipped her head to the side as she gazed up at him. "And you know him from . . . ?"

"Work."

She frowned. "Here?"

"No. We go way back. We were in the same academy class in Houston, spent some time at HPD together."

"Oh. That was a while ago."

"Yeah."

"So . . . the vice squad, then?"

"Yeah. Mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all."

Sean lowered himself onto the other end of the sandy log. He didn't like the direction the conversation had taken so he steered it back to her.

"So, how long have you been a caterer?" he asked.

"Hmm . . . let's see. I guess it's been about three weeks now." She turned and smiled at him, and he felt a hot jolt of attraction. "Why? Can you tell?"

"Not at all."

"Right."

"Well, the timing seemed a little bumpy."

"Just a little." She rolled her eyes. "We had several staffers no-show. It happens a lot in this business. People are flaky. Despite all my planning, you could say we were a bit rushed."

Rushed was right. No woman had ever clapped at him before. He'd discovered it was a turn-on.
 
 
Excerpted from Deep Tide by Laura Griffin Copyright © 2023 by Laura Griffin. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved.
​

When a cold case in Texas leads to a sinister string of disappearances, a newcomer to the small town helps the deputy sheriff piece together the clues in this new romantic thriller from New York Times bestselling author Laura Griffin.
Corporate lawyer Ava Burch has had enough of the big city and the daily grind. She grew up with her father, who raised search-and-rescue dogs, in rural Texas and has moved to the small town of Cuervo to spend time in the dry, rugged wilderness near Big Bend National Park. When she and her dog, Huck, discover an abandoned campsite on a volunteer search-and-rescue mission, she’s perplexed, but she carefully photographs it all the same.
 
All Deputy Sheriff Grant Wycoff can see when he looks at Ava is a city slicker—with her designer jeans and expensive car—who has no business on a serious team made up of seasoned outdoorsmen and retired cops. But when she tells him of her discovery on the trail, he sees there’s more to her than meets the eye.
 
Ava’s discovery reminds Grant of the unsolved case of a young woman who went missing two years ago. As they look into the campsite further, another woman disappears under odd circumstances. With time running out, Ava and Grant must work against the brutal heat from both the Texas sun and their own electric chemistry to solve the case.

Missing children are an emergency. Always. Their little bodies are less able to regulate temperature, so they're especially vulnerable to exposure. And in a place as vast and rugged as Silver Canyon State Park, additional hazards abounded: rattlesnakes, coyotes, hundred-foot cliffs. Even the anemic little creek that Ava had been following was terrifying. A child Noah's size could drown in a bathtub.

Ava glanced up at the relentless sun that sucked moisture out of everything beneath it. She looked ahead at Huck, who trotted back and forth in front of her in his zigzag pattern. He was working the wind, as he'd been trained, tirelessly sniffing the air with his powerful nose, which could pick up anything with human scent on it, from a candy wrapper to a dropped article of clothing.

So far, nothing.

Ava checked her watch. Two long hours since she'd left the trailhead. Sweat stung her eyes, and she wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. She paused beside a boulder and dropped her pack on the dusty ground to retrieve one of her water bottles. Huck needed some, too, but right now he was intent on his work.

She took a lukewarm sip and scanned the scrub brush lining the canyon wall. Young children had a tendency to wander aimlessly until they found a place to curl up for a nap. Some would even hide from search teams, afraid of getting in trouble for being lost. So Ava had been incessantly scanning pockets of brush.

Huck halted in front of her, his nose lifted in the air. Ava froze and watched. But then his head dropped down and he resumed his zigzags. Ava tucked the water bottle away and pushed off the boulder to continue her trek.

She watched Huck, amazed by his energy. Even in this heat, he loved working, and when he had his vest on, he didn't have an off switch. As he bounded around in front of her, she thought of the other teams, especially the canine one. She was surprised they hadn't found something close to camp.

Of course, the parents had been there, which might have been a problem. Frantic parents threw off a lot of scent, which could have overpowered Noah's smell and possibly confused the dog. Also, the temperature rising in the canyon could have wafted the scent up, well above the dog's nose. Yet another challenge here was that young children didn't throw off as much scent as adults. And still bodies-ones that were either asleep or unconscious-threw off less scent, too.

So there were all kinds of factors in play, especially in a park this size.

Ava checked her watch again and sped up her pace, unable to shake the feeling of dread that had been settling in her stomach as the hours ticked by. Scanning the canyon wall, her gaze caught on something beige and triangular.

A tent? No.

A tarp. She climbed onto a boulder for a closer look. About halfway up the slope of the canyon was a sand-colored canvas tarp that had been stretched taut to create a patch of shade. It looked like a primitive fort-just the sort of thing that would attract a kid's attention, and her pulse quickened as she climbed closer. Nearing the tarp, she spied a small yellow tent tucked in the shade beneath it.

She glanced around for Huck, but he was sniffing along at the base of a rockslide.

Grabbing hold of a juniper tree, Ava levered herself onto the ledge. She ducked under the tarp and paused a moment for her eyes to adjust. The little tent was unzipped. Hope ballooned in her chest as she pulled back the flap and poked her head inside.

Her hope disappeared as she scanned the interior. No sleeping child curled up in the dimness. The air was utterly still, and everything was coated with a thin layer of dust, as though no one had been there in weeks, maybe months. A pile of gear in the corner included a cookstove, a hiking boot, and a blue bedroll with a carabiner clipped to it. Attached to the carabiner was a black key fob.

A chill snaked down her spine. Who would leave their car key out here? The fob seemed odd. Ditto for the hiking boot. Where was the other one? And where was its owner?

On impulse, Ava took out her phone and snapped a couple of pictures. As part of her SAR training, she'd learned to document crime scenes. She couldn't pinpoint why, exactly, but that was what this felt like. She ducked out and snapped a shot of the exterior. A faint bark pulled her attention back to the mission. She couldn't afford to get sidetracked, even though this place felt creepy. She put her phone away as she skimmed the surrounding area for the missing boot, or any sign of the boot's owner. She glanced up the canyon, looking for evidence of a fire pit or any other camping equipment.

A soft whimper had her turning around.

Huck sat beside a rock pile, his ears pricked forward and his gaze fixed on hers. Ava's heart skittered. This was his sit alert letting her know he'd found something.

"Show me," she commanded, and he sprang into action, bounding across the creek bed. She climbed down the rocks and jogged after him, frantically searching the clumps of trees. Huck darted around a giant prickly pear cactus and behind a line of mesquite trees. Amid the fluttering green leaves, she caught a flash of red.

"Please, please, please," she murmured.

Huck disappeared beneath the brush and barked. Ava spied a small white sneaker and a pudgy leg.

Huck danced in a circle, drunk on success and eager for his reward.

"Good boy, Huck! Good boy! Good boy!" She filled her voice with praise, even though her heart had lodged in her throat. The little body wasn't moving. Oh God.

Laura Griffin is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty-five books and novellas. She is a two-time RITA Award winner, as well as the recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award.

​I don’t read many romantic thriller series that focus on the same leads so Rebecca Zanetti’s Laurel Snow Thriller books have been an interesting shift for me.

Visceral books propelled along by their protagonist, the aforementioned Laurel, who has an eidetic memory & is the possessor of numerous degrees, the Laurel Snow series has intrigued me ever since she first arrived home to an isolated part of Washington state, a place where serial killers have recently come out of the woodwork.

In book 2, You Can Hide, FBI agent Laurel & Fish & Wildlife officer Huck work together to solve a new series of violent crimes, all the while dealing with many external challenges (including Huck’s ex & Laurel’s apparently without-a-conscience sister). Relationship-wise, at the beginning of this book the two leads don’t really have a relationship but they do have a history.

You Can Hide delivers a decent mystery & twist & it effectively sets up the next book. While the tension between leads is still there, I didn’t really appreciate how they’ve lost momentum at the beginning of this one & how it happens off page—it feels like a womp womp moment.

If you’re looking for a romantic thriller that doesn’t skimp on the visceral, the shocking, or the keen observations offered by a genius protagonist, you might like the Laurel Snow series.

This book isn’t quite Assassin Lite but there are so many things that got to my heart nonetheless.

🌻 Like a deliberately annoying lead + the lead who gets exasperated by him.

🌻 A grumpy & the sunshine combo.

🌻 Forced proximity.

🌻 I have to trust you (even though I shouldn’t) if I want to survive.

🌻 Let’s make a home together.

In N. R. Walker’s The Kite Harry & Asher are both assassins who go on the run together once they realize that hits have been put out on both of them.

Neither man is quick to trust so that makes the inevitable walls coming down all the better. The steam had me fanning my cheeks, the caretaking scenes grabbed at my heart, & I was genuinely happy to see them at the end, forging a new, safe life separate from the violence of their past.

Be warned: there’s a lot of violence in this one & lots of deaths, some committed by the leads. In an effort to establish their own safety Harry also threatens a villain’s family in front of the villain only & while I think he was bluffing I prefer my leads to make less threats against possibly innocent people please & thanks.

But on the whole The Kite really satisfied.