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      HOUSE OF SECRETS

      To clear his imprisoned father’s name, Shane Gillum must find evidence hidden in a Martha’s Vineyard cottage. But he arrives to find the “vacant” property being prepped for sale by real estate agent Janice Swenson. Is she tied to the notorious owners? Or is she in over her head as the “accidents” on the property grow increasingly dangerous? And who is the saboteur targeting—Shane with his search, or Janice with her dark, hidden past? With so much at stake, trusting Janice is a huge risk...but keeping silent about the cottage’s mysteries could mire them both in a deadly scheme.

      “Look out!” Janice shouted.

      At a highway intersection, a midnight-blue SUV ignored a red light and roared toward her side of the lightweight car. Shane’s plunge on the accelerator plastered Janice to her seat.

      His face shrouded under the bill of a wide-brimmed hat, the driver of the other vehicle laid on his horn. The blast rang in Janice’s ears as the little Ford whizzed beyond the SUV’s massive bumper.

      Sucking a quavering breath into her lungs, Janice stared at Shane’s sober profile. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he kept his gaze locked on the road.

      “Did you notice a license plate number?” he asked.

      “I was too scared, and it happened so fast.”

      She stared warily out the window at passing traffic. This was too weird. Was the whole island warning her away?

      She’d left the family name and all such associations behind long ago, but did someone with a vendetta against the Morans know who she was? Unfortunately, the number of people with reason to hate the Morans—any Moran—was legion.

      Did that include Shane Gillum?

      JILL ELIZABETH NELSON

      writes what she likes to read—faith-based tales of adventure seasoned with romance. By day she operates as housing manager for a seniors’ apartment complex. By night she turns into a wild and crazy writer who can hardly wait to jot down all the exciting things her characters are telling her, so she can share them with her readers. More about Jill and her books can be found at www.jillelizabethnelson.com. She and her husband live in rural Minnesota, surrounded by the woods and prairie and their four grown children, who have settled nearby.

      Shake Down

      Jill Elizabeth Nelson

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      A good name is more desirable than great riches;

      To be esteemed is better than silver or gold.

      —Proverbs 22:1

      With prayers of compassion for the victims of crime...and for the secondary victims—the innocent families of the guilty.

      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

       EPILOGUE

      Dear Reader,

       Extract

      ONE

      Janice Swenson squatted on her haunches, frowning down into the ink-black hole beneath a hatch in the floor. Dank air wafted into her face and she shivered. It was too easy to imagine this whole property rotting beneath the weight of fetid family secrets.

      Disposing of this cottage she’d inherited from a distant relative might prove to be more troublesome than Janice would have anticipated. At any other time in her life, she’d have sold the property, sight-unseen, and called it good riddance. But she had her reasons for coming to Martha’s Vineyard to handle the transaction personally.

      If her superstitious days weren’t well behind her, Janice might be tempted to think Moran Cottage was bent on doing her in. At her first step onto the front porch, she had nearly plunged her foot through an eroded board. Then as she’d explored the walk-in kitchen pantry, a shelf let loose, tumbling expired canned goods onto her shoulders. A few aches across her back betrayed bruises forming. Now she’d wrestled open a trap door in the floor of the hallway outside the miniscule bathroom and found the cellar.

      At least her decade of experience as a Realtor had prepared her to deal with little issues such as lack of power in a run-down property. Janice swiped a flashlight from her belt-loop clip, clicked it on and pointed the beam into the pit. A set of treacherously steep stairs ended in a packed-earth floor.

      She

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