Title Page

Copyright

Buried Deep

Copyright @ 2021 Whitney Kelly writing as Margot Hunt

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

About the Author

Chapter One

On the morning my once-perfect life changed forever, I was chatting with my daughter, Paige, on the phone. I tucked the phone against my shoulder and looked at the to-do list on the kitchen counter. “I’ve ordered the flowers,” I said. “I mailed the invitations last week, and the Black Swan is going to handle the catering. Do you think renting a photo booth is overkill?”

“Definitely. No photo booth,” Paige said.

“Really? I thought it might be fun!”

“Mom, you’re way over obsessing about this.”

“I’m not obsessing. Your father will only turn fifty once. I want everything to be perfect.”

Six years earlier, to celebrate my fortieth birthday, James had whisked me away on a two-week trip to Italy. We’d toured Rome, Florence, and Pisa, and then capped off the vacation with a three-day cooking course in Venice. I knew throwing a party wasn’t nearly as glamorous as a trip to Europe, but I was determined to make the day special for James.

“It’s not a surprise party, is it?” Paige asked.

I laughed. “No. You know how your dad is about surprises.”

“Yeah.” Paige sighed. “I think you really should consider taking up a hobby. Other than planning fancy parties, that is.”