JUST THE WAY YOU ARE When Hope Prescott's parents disappeared, her carefree teenage life vanished forever. She and her three siblings were separated and sent to different foster homes around the country. Now, seven years later, Hope is still searching for them. To support herself, she works for an answering service, and cares for her clients as if they were family. When wealthy businessman Zachariah Givens hires Hope's service, Hope initially mistakes Zack for his butler. Tired of being coddled and flattered because of his money, Zack is charmed by Hope's candor, not to mention her sexy voice, and keeps up the charade. As their friendship turns into passion, Zack is determined to have her, even if that means the unthinkable -- marriage. But when Hope discovers his deception, Zack knows he must solve the mystery that haunts Hope's past in order to convince her that their futures lie together....

     Shunned and ridiculed all her life for something she can’t control, Samantha Blair hides her psychic abilities and lives on the fringes of society. Against her will, however, she’s tapped into a killer—or rather, his victims. Each woman’s murder, blow-by-blow, ravages her mind until their death releases her back to her body. Sam knows she must go to the authorities, but will the rugged, no-nonsense detective in charge of tracking down the killer believe her? Detective Brandt Sutherland only trusts hard evidence, yet Sam’s visions offer clues he needs to catch a killer. The more he learns about her incredible abilities, however, the clearer it becomes that Sam’s visions have put her in the killer’s line of fire. Now Brandt must save her from something he cannot see or understand…and risk losing his heart in the process. As danger and desire collide, passion raises the stakes in a game Sam and Brandt don’t dare lose. Length - 90,000 words. Excerpt Agony. Pain. Terror. A voice whispered through the blackness of her mind, so odd, so different it caught her attention. She strained to hear the words. “Let go. It’s time to let go.” Sam stared through the flames, stunned. Let go of what? She couldn’t hear over the roaring fire and could barely see, but knowing that someone was there stirred her survival instinct, and she fought with the seatbelt buckle jammed at her side. She was saved. Just another minute and they’d open the door and pull her free. She’d be fine. “Please hurry,” she cried out. “Let go. You don’t need to be in there. Let it all go, and come with me.” She peered through the golden orange windshield to see a strange male face peering at her through the flames. He smiled. “Come with me.” “I want to, damn it. Can’t you see I’m trapped?” she screamed, her vocals crisping in the heat. “Release yourself. Come with me. Say yes.” The pain hit a crescendo. She twisted against it, hearing her spine splinter. The car seat melted into her skin. So much pain, she couldn’t breathe. Blackness crowded into her mind, blessed quiet, soothing darkness. She reached for it. “Let it go. You don’t need to go through this. Hurry.” She started. Why wasn’t he opening the door or getting others to help? He should be trying to save her. Shouldn’t he? Sam, so confused and so tired, she could barely feel the pain overtaking her body. Where had he gone? She tried to concentrate. His face was now only a vague outline that rippled with the heat waves. A soft smile played at the corner of his mouth. The flames burned around him, weird as they centered him in the warm glow. She wanted to be with him. To live. “Here, take my hand.” Dazed and on the brink of death, Sam focused on the hand reaching for her. She struggled to raise the charred piece of flesh that had been her arm and reached out to grasp his. She was free. Overwhelmed, she turned to hug her savior, her head just reaching his shoulder. He stood beside her, the same radiant beaming look on his face. His blond hair glowed, and he had the brightest teeth. She sighed. This beautiful man pointed to her right arm. Confused, Sam glanced down at her burned arm, realizing she could feel none of her injuries. Just like her other one, her broken arm had miraculously healed – whole, smooth and soft. Her skin hadn’t looked this good in ten years. She spun around to find a massive fireball below. What the hell? She had to be dead.

    For twenty-seven years, she's kept her ability a secret, but eleven young women have been murdered in the mountains of North Carolina, and Sloan may be the only hope of finding their killer. She has just agreed to help Detective Nathan McNamara with the case, when a stranger—who is as alluring as he is terrifying—shows up at her doorstep with a dark past and another puzzling mystery: she can't see his soul at all. Now Sloan is on the hunt for a deadly psychopath with two irresistible men. One of them would die for her, and the other would kill to keep her safe.

    Clad in hooded black robes, carrying torches that blazed with evil fury, they came. With chanting—at first a distant murmur, then growing and building, louder and louder—incessant, demanding, hideous chanting, they came.Mother had been rocking both Jeremiah, my four-year-old little brother, and me on our rickety rocking chair, its swaying motion in itself a soothing comfort on a dark night. But more than that, mother sang to us in her clear and lilting voice as she often did, chasing away the ghosts and goblins that sometimes haunt a young boy’s mind. As I was about to drop off to sleep, the noise and the clatter from outside our cabin startled me back to consciousness. Mother’s voice mixed with the incessant chanting that came closer and closer. Her voice faded. We could see the lights from their torches through the window panes, and mother rose quickly from the rocker and hurried Jeremiah and me into our bedroom. She cautioned us in whispery tones to stay quiet, to stay in our room, pretend to be asleep; and then on tiptoe, she rushed out the door, closing it quietly after herself.Within minutes, I heard Mother scream a piercing wail that emitted both terror and defeat. They came through our bedroom door, robes rustling, wild eyes searching, hands reaching, and carried Jeremiah and I from our beds. They dragged Mother out the front door, through the dark forest, up the mountainside, our captors pulling my brother and I close behind. I remember the brittle sound of the fallen leaves under our feet, the cold chill of the night air brushing against my face, the pale moonlight frosting the tips of the last remaining leaves on the black, skeletal oak trees that rose above us. And we kept climbing, climbing, farther and farther up through the forest. And as we walked, a cold wind came up, turning the leaves; and the racing clouds changed into thunderheads. And then the first bolt of lightning lit the sky and illuminated the hellish scene around us—the shadowy, dark figures stomping through the bushes and underbrush, the swaying glow of lanterns through the trees. All the while their chanting reverberated across the landscape, mixing with the sound of the howling, barking, snarling, pawing dogs that followed in their midst."