Denise is a Southern girl who has lived in Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has a wonderful husband and two incredible children, who not only endure her writing moods, but who also encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Besides writing romantic suspense, she enjoys traveling, reading, and cooking. Accounting is a skill she has learned to earn a little money to support her writing habit.
She wrote her first story when she was a teen, seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she had read. She's been writing off and on ever since, and with more than a few full-length manuscripts already completed, she has no desire to slow down.
~ Bookbub ~ Newsletter ~
Desperate to begin a new life, Jerilyn Bowman changes her name and goes off the grid. Sparks fly when Det. Nick Moreau confronts her about her identity and then seems to follow her wherever she goes. When a stranger dies while gripping her chin in his hand, passing to her the gift of prescience, she begins to witness awful crimes before they happen.
Jerilyn’s claim that she’s able to see the future both frustrates and fascinates Nick to the point he can’t get her out of his mind. Are Jerilyn’s claims of second sight a cover for her own crimes? Will Nick discover the truth before Jerilyn becomes the killer’s next victim?
Snippet:
What did the weirdo mean when he said she was the chosen one? What gift was he giving her?
All of that was bad enough, but what she’d seen when Moreau had placed his hand on her shoulder scared her even more. She’d seen through the eyes of someone who had pointed a gun at the cop and fired. The image of the cop’s face contorting as he clutched his chest, crumpled, and then fell to the ground sent ripples of dread through her. She’d always been in tune with her sixth sense. Instinctively, she knew that she had seen Moreau’s future rather than his past. But how could she have? She was no psychic.
Was this the gift the old man had passed on to her? If so, she didn’t want it.
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