Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers
âNeggersâ passages are so descriptive that one almost finds oneâs teeth chattering from fear and anticipation as well as from the cold. The chill from the emotionless and guiltless killersâ icy hearts is enough to cause frostbite to our very souls.â
âBookreporter on Cold Pursuit
âNo one does romantic suspense better!â
âJanet Evanovich
âWell-drawn characters, complex plotting and plenty of wry humor are the hallmarks of Neggersâ books. Jo and Elijah are very well matched, and readers will root for their romance.â
âRT Book Reviews on Cold Pursuit
âNeggersâ trademark use of atmospheric mood and setting, including the mist of the title itself, comes front and center. What sheâs done is add aspects of the high-action thriller to traditional romantic suspense, combining the best of both in creating a genre all her own. Flat out great.â
âProvidence Journal on The Mist
âReaders will be turning the pages so fast their fingers will burnâ¦a winner!â
âSusan Elizabeth Phillips on Betrayals
âWhen it comes to romance, adventure and suspense, nobody delivers like Carla Neggers.â
âJayne Ann Krentz
Black Falls, Vermontâlate February
Nick Martini rolled out of the four-poster bed in his spacious room in an older part of Black Falls Lodge and turned on a light on his bedside table. He glanced at the clock radio.
Four-thirty.
âHell,â he said, tempted to crawl back under the down comforter.
Instead he stood up on a thick, brightly colored carpetâyellow sunflowers against a blue backgroundâon the pine-board floor and walked over to the double windows, their cream-colored drapes pulled tightly shut against the Vermont cold.
Heâd arrived after dark last night. Itâd still be dark out now.
He opened the drapes, anyway.
Yep. Dark.
He felt the below-freezing outside air seep through the windows but left the drapes open. In Southern California, heâd be asleep. Even in northern New England, with the three-hour time difference, he should be asleep. After his long flight yesterday and his drive from a small airport an hour north of the lodge, heâd almost turned around and found somewhere else to spend the night.
Heâd always expected heâd check out Black Falls, Vermont, at some point, but it wasnât his ten-year friendship with Sean Cameron, his business partner and fellow smoke jumper in California, that had finally brought him East to the Green Mountains and Cameron country.
It was a serial arsonist. A killer.
And it was Seanâs sister, Rose.
Nick looked over at the bed with its posts and pictured Rose in his bed in Beverly Hills eight months ago, her skin glowing in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Sheâd caught him staring at her and had pulled the sheet over her nakedness, as if only realizing just then what a huge mistake sheâd made.
He raked a hand through his hair and bolted for the bathroom, with its gleaming porcelain and chrome and its soft, ultrawhite towels. He turned on the shower and tore open a bar of Vermont-made goatâs milk soap while he waited for the water to heat up. He climbed in, stood under the stream of water as hot as he could stand and told himself he still could turn back.
He didnât have to see anyone else in Black Falls.
He didnât have to see Rose.
For ten years heâd fought wildfires, and for six years heâd served on a navy submarine. Heâd faced dangers and hardships, and heâd seen people dieâheâd come close to death himself. Heâd always done his best and acted honorably, even when heâd screwed up.
Until Rose Cameron.
As he shut off the shower and reached for a towel, he could taste her mouth, feel her breasts under his palms, hear her soft cries as sheâd climaxed under him, clawing at him, sobbing his name.
Theyâd known exactly what they were doing that night.
Exactly.
Nick toweled off and got dressed in the warmest clothes heâd packed. He doubted heâd pass for a Vermont mountain man, but he didnât care. He headed out to the hall, shutting his door quietly behind him and taking the stairs down to the lobby. The lodge, long owned and operated by the Cameron family, hadnât seemed crowded when heâd arrived at nine oâclock last night. From what heâd learned from Sean over the years, it drew its biggest crowds in the warm-weather months.
Just as well, considering the spate of violence the town had experienced since the fall.
Since last spring, really.