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Blind Sight

Blind Sight

by Susan Shay
Blind Sight

Blind Sight

by Susan Shay


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Cassie Reynolds is channeling the dreams of a serial killer. But without the resources to stop him-if she's able to discover who he is-how can she succeed? Only cynical Keegan Flynn, who believes in nothing and no one, has the tools needed to complete her gift. Will Cassie be able to make Keegan believe in time, or will Christmas this year be murder?

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781601545367
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Publication date: 03/25/2009
Pages: 364
Product dimensions: 5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.75(d)

Read an Excerpt

"Oh, I can find my way around her. In my hands, this baby will be very happy." Gingerly caressing the leather-covered steering wheel, he glanced at Cassie in the semi-darkness to see her mouth drop open. While he hadn't intended to give the words a sexy spin, seeing her face after she took the phrase the wrong way--eyes at half-mast, cheeks pinking, and her glistening bottom lip caught between her teeth--made him wish he could do it again.

"That's right. You owned a Volkswagen in college, didn't you?" Her voice rasped slightly as she buckled her seatbelt, then leaned away from him to angle her back against the door. In a play of shadow and light, the simple red dress she wore made her body look perfect, touchable, kissable. When at last she turned her head to look at him, the heat in her gaze stole the air from his lungs.

Without breath, he couldn't speak or think, so he nodded. It didn't matter what she'd asked. Whatever it was, he'd do it. Or find it. Or climb it. Or build it. For the woman gazing at him with eyes that could heat his very marrow, he'd do anything at all. Even take on a monster, if need be.

Startled at his reaction, he gripped the steering wheel. What had happened to him? His brain must have liquefied to warm Jell-O for him to suddenly have the hots for her. He usually had more self-control. More reason.

Hoping for some semblance of normality, he fumbled blindly for a moment before he found the key and started the engine. Rolling down the window, he stuck his head out and took a deep breath, but it didn't help.

"Is anything wrong?" Her velvet voice curled toward him like a caress.

Yes! he wanted to yell, but he couldn't make his tonguework. My brain stopped and it's your fault. I can't remember which pedal is the clutch, how to shift gears, or even how to turn on the headlights. All I can remember is how to look at you. How I'd like to hold you, kiss you, make love to you.

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