She's been asked to write an exclusive on celebrity getaway Coconut Cay, a private paradise belonging to billionaire businessman James Redmond. When a couple of pompous journalists turn up unexpectedly, scuppering Laura's chances of an exclusive, she decides to enjoy the glittering sea and golden Caribbean sands instead. But Laura soon discovers that the hi-tech, haute luxe, seven-star comfort of Coconut Cay hides some dark secrets. And she's determined to get the scoop before her rivals...

    But then the tragic deaths of her father and grandfather within two years of each other turn her life upside down. Having moved in with her mother's parents after the death of her father, Louise finds that her grandmother's increasing reliance on the local church for comfort after her husband's death draws a soon to be unwelcome guest to the family home: the verger, Mr. Jarvis. Whilst outwardly paying attention to her widowed grandmother, he also seems to be focussed on Louise herself, and abuses his position of trust, both at the church's Sunday school and in the family home, to force his unnatural obsessions on her. Even after Louise's mother remarries and she can finally look forward to moving away from Mr. Jarvis, Louise must endure one more harrowing attack before he is finally caught out. But even then, with child protection teams still very much in their infancy in the early 1980s, Louise still lives with the consequences of her unstable childhood. WARNING: This book is based upon a true story of child abuse, and as such contains passages that some readers may find disturbing.

    The first in a heart-warming series full of lush lotions, fabulous friendships and teenage crushes.

    The story itself was inspired by a real New Year’s Eve bonfire here on the farm when a cousin tried to burn some overly wet wood. I was tickled when my brother said, “Never saw gasoline so wet it wouldn't burn,” and knew I’d use that sentence in a story sometime. They really did try to chase some lovers out of that lane and yes, they really did get mired down to the axle.

    

    Nineteen years her senior, the powerful drug lord stakes his claim the moment he lays eyes on her. Nothing will stop him from courting Kirby--not even his wife or nephew, Grip who ironically shares a past and burning desire for his new love interest. When skeletons begin tumbling out of the closet and buried secrets are revealed, who will triumph and who will end up broken-hearted in the end?

    side at the top, and shot into the next hollow, twisting in the descent. A huge swell pushed up exactly under her middle, and her bow and stern hung free with nothing to support them. Then one joking wave caught her up at the bow, and another at the stern, while the rest of the water slunk 251 away from under her just to see how she would like it; so she was held up at her two ends only, and the weight of the cargo and the machinery fell on the groaning iron keels and bilge-stringers. "Ease off! Ease off, there!" roared the garboard-strake. "I want one-eighth of an inch fair play. D' you hear me, you rivets!" "Ease off! Ease off!" cried the bilge-stringers. "Don't hold us so tight to the frames!" "Ease off!" grunted the deck-beams, as the Dimbula rolled fearfully. "You've cramped our knees into the stringers, and we can't move. Ease off, you flat-headed little nuisances." Then two converging seas hit the bows, one on each side, and fell away in torrents of streaming thunder. "Ease off!" shouted the forward collision-bulkhead. "I want to crumple up, but I'm stiffened in every direction. Ease off, you dirty little forge-filings. Let me breathe!" All the hundreds of plates that are riveted to the frames, and make the outside skin of every steamer, echoed the call, for each plate wanted to shift and creep a little, and each plate, according to its position, complained against the rivets. "We can't help it! We can't help it!" they murmured in reply. "We're put here to hold you, and we're going to do it; you never pull us twice in the same direction. If you'd say what 252 you were going to do next, we'd try to meet your views." "As far as I could feel," said the upper-deck planking, and that was four inches thick, "every single iron near me was pushing or pulling in opposite directions. Now, what's the sense of that? My friends, let us all pull together." "Pull any way you please," roared the funnel, "so long as you don't try your experiments on me. I...

    In Sneeze for Danger, a killer is unmasked by unfortunate means, and in The Consolation Blonde, a misunderstanding turns a bestselling author to crime…‘Very smart and memorable . . . both stories are great reminders of a time when McDermid was sharpening her teeth on the crime fiction genre and the great writer she was to become . . . an excellent aperitif before the next McDermid novel’