Bullets Over Bourbon

<p><span style=background-color: rgba(255 255 255 1); color: rgba(0 37 77 1)>Driftwood was supposed to be her refuge.</span></p><p><span style=background-color: rgba(255 255 255 1); color: rgba(0 37 77 1)>A weather-beaten Victorian clinging to the cliffs. A bookstore that smelled of ink and salt air. A quiet town where Jane Fairhaven could disappear behind polite smiles and careful routines-bury her real name her real sins and pretend the ghosts in her chest would finally let her breathe.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=background-color: rgba(255 255 255 1); color: rgba(0 37 77 1)>But when her assistant-and closest friend-is found murdered between the shelves Driftwood turns savage. Outsider. Suspect. Murderer. The words hang in every whisper every stare.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=background-color: rgba(255 255 255 1); color: rgba(0 37 77 1)>And then there is Detective Malcolm Rakes. Kat's cousin. Driftwood born and bred but scarred by years in Boston chasing high-profile cases that never closed carrying secrets that bled into the man he became. His badge may be suspended but his instincts are still sharp his gaze as relentless as the tide. He should despise Jane. She should fear him.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=background-color: rgba(255 255 255 1); color: rgba(0 37 77 1)>Instead something dangerous coils between them. A current built of grief and suspicion crackling into something darker-desire threaded with ruin. A hunger that blurs the line between enemy and ally protector and predator.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=background-color: rgba(255 255 255 1); color: rgba(0 37 77 1)>But someone else is watching. Someone who silenced Kat and who isn't finished. In Driftwood secrets don't stay buried. They fester. They twist. And surrendering to the wrong man might cost Jane not only her freedom... but her life. </span></p>