Category: Cheryl Sterling

It’s you,” she murmured, staring at his eyes, a fine, dove gray.He smiled. “Of course, it’s me. Let’s get you back to your boat.

Dave had been fun when they’d first dated. Then impending fatherhood had sobered him at the same time Mickle and Company had crooked its finger, turning him from Mr. Right to Mr. Wrong.

How, exactly, did I kill him? He died on the golf course.” One minute he’d been practicing his swing, and in the next—phzzt—a freak lightning bolt had hit him right in the nine iron. His shoes were still smoking when she reached him.