She left her painful past behind.
Poppy Larsen is finally free. She moved to Crimson Point to make a new life for herself, full of bright possibilities. A whole new world awaits her, if she can find the courage to trust again—even her gorgeous neighbor, the town sheriff. But darkness lurks in the picturesque Oregon Coast town, concealing a deadly threat that’s closer than she ever imagined.
Now a killer is watching her from the shadows.
Sheriff Noah Buchanan can’t help but be intrigued by his new neighbor. She’s hard working, sexy as hell, and unlike most of the women in town, she hasn’t thrown herself at him. After it becomes clear that she plans to put down roots here, he finds himself falling more and more for Poppy and her big heart. When someone from her past tries to hurt her, it triggers all his protective instincts. But the real danger is hiding in plain sight. When the unthinkable happens, Noah is thrust into a race against time to save her before it’s too late.
Noah Buchanan jerked awake when the generator started up next door.
What the hell?
He rolled over to squint at the bedside clock. “You gotta be freaking kidding me,” he muttered.
It was seven-twelve on a Saturday morning. Wasn’t there an unspoken rule everybody understood that you had to be quiet until at least nine on the weekends? As a matter of common courtesy?
Grabbing a pair of jeans from the chair in the corner, he dragged them on over top of his boxers and stumbled down the hall toward the kitchen. Through the wide window above the sink he caught a flash of blond hair over the back fence. Definitely his new neighbor.
Barefoot, he stepped outside into the warm late-June morning and headed across the back lawn, the grass soft and slightly damp beneath his soles. He stopped at the neck-high cedar fence that separated the properties, and the moment he saw his sexy new neighbor at the far side of her yard, he suddenly wasn’t annoyed anymore.
Poppy stood in profile to him as she raised the wand of the power washer and started on her back fence. She was young, maybe mid-twenties. She wore a tiny pair of frayed cutoff shorts and a string bikini top that framed full, round breasts, leaving her midriff and long legs bare.
Christ. It took superhuman effort to drag his eyes up to her face.
Her honey-blond hair was up in a ponytail, and he could see the wires from the earbuds she had in. Completely absorbed in her task, she had no idea he was standing there staring at her.