Midnight Sacrifice
Chapters (34)
- 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
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Also by Melinda Leigh
She Can Run
Midnight Exposure
She Can Tell
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2013 Melinda Leigh
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781611098846
ISBN-10: 161109884X
To Tom, for knowing how to begin this story
CONTENTS
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
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
December
Winter in Maine was more than a season. It was the enemy.
The December wind whipped down the alley and smacked Mandy in the face. Her eyes watered. Another gust grabbed the glass door. She held on tight, muscling it closed. To her right, the alley opened into a small parking lot behind the building. Her car would be as cold as a walk-in freezer and wouldn’t begin to warm up on the six-block drive home, but at least she’d be out of the wind and off her feet.
Helping her mother the run family’s bed-and-breakfast, then waiting tables at the diner had left her arches crying for a hot bath and a soft bed. But if she ever wanted to get out of this town—and she did—the extra shifts were a must. No way could she squeeze tuition payments out of the Black Bear Inn’s nonexistent profit margin.
With gloved hands, she pulled her knit hat over her ears and trudged forward. Wind slipped into her coat at the throat. Turning her back to a frigid gust, she made sure her knee-length parka was zipped to her chin and her flannel scarf wound securely around her neck. Being a Maine native did not make her impervious to the temperature.
“Mandy, get in.”
She startled and spun around. The diner’s owner, Nathan Hall, had pulled his SUV into the alley. He was leaning over the passenger seat. The window was down. She took a half step toward him. She stopped midstride, a prickly sensation sliding along her spine. Under her thick coat, the primitive tingle lifted goose bumps that had nothing to do with the abominable temperature of her hometown.
Something was wrong.