IN THE CUTTHROAT WORLD OF BIOMEDICAL RESEARCH…
When computer whiz Emma O’Manny’s scientist husband dumps her on Valentine’s Day, vandalizing his office seems like a justifiable—if petty—response. But then Dan’s small plane crashes under mysterious circumstances, and Emma’s suddenly the prime suspect in a double homicide. Worse, Dan may have faked important vaccine safety research, to further his career—and the digital trail leads to Emma. Can she determine which data is correct, to prove her innocence? Or will Dan keep controlling her life, even from the grave?
…THE FIRST TO PUBLISH WINS…
Detective Vin Bronislovas came to Portland to rebuild his reputation, after nearly blowing a years-long investigation by believing the lies of a mobster’s daughter. A single misstep—like falling for another suspect—would destroy his career and ruin his life. But when the killer strikes again, and Emma and her children are threatened, Vin must choose between the Job and love. Can he trust his gut? Or will repeating his past mistakes allow a murderer to go free, and potentially put millions of children at risk from an unsafe vaccine?
…AND ANYONE CAN MAKE A KILLING. ANYONE.
Excerpt
Emma sat back to check her handiwork. This was so far out of character, it was like admiring someone else’s artistry. It’d taken longer than expected, but was still faster than a pen. Thank heaven the minivan still had junk in it from December—a.k.a., Holiday Craft Month.
Yes. Dr. Dan and Mollie would get quite the shock when they returned from Hawaii. Maybe they’d come in to catch the sunrise while sipping their coffee. Thanks to the angle of the building, both Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Hood were visible through the windows.
Emphasis on the were. Now the only thing visible was yards and yards of Smith’s Pink Spray Tree Flocking-in-a-Can. She’d run out or she would’ve done the desk, too—but white was almost as good. And gold and silver added nice touches to the filing cabinets and shelves.
But the pièce de résistance was Dan’s monitor. He’d needed it to complete his research--had to have a bigger screen, so he could finish his vaccine paper and rush it to publication, before someone else got there first, and he lost a decade of work. Or worse—his position at the university, or even his lab. But back then, the Sion was in start-up mode, bleeding money left and right, and none of his early grants covered equipment. So he’d been forced to dip into the kids’ college funds to pay for it.
Now, thanks to his soon-to-be-pubbed research, the National Vaccine Research Endowment had funded him to the tune of one million dollars—which was lucky for him, because his five grand, flat-panel, goddamn huge display was now solid fuzzy green, front and back, except right in the middle where she’d sprayed a huge red, furry “F*** YOU.”
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