Heavy Netting

By Nicki Greenwood

Branson Cudahy is as southern as it gets, a cyber crime investigator from happily-landlocked Lexington, Kentucky. He has been chasing a hacker for three years, and now the trail has led him to Lobster Cove, Maine...which is a real problem for a guy with a shellfish allergy. Jenna Sanborn waits tables to pay the bills, but she dreams of opening a quilt shop in the heart of town. She’d never even think of leaving Lobster Cove, but the handsome newcomer is tempting beyond her wildest imaginings. Bran and Jenna never expect the whirlwind romance that comes out of their meeting. As hard as they fight to control their feelings, their hearts are fighting to push them over that dizzying lover’s leap. Will love win out, or will the hacker—and their dreams—slip the net?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Sep 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781628305890

Nicki Greenwood

Nicki Greenwood graduated SUNY Morrisville with a degree in Natural Resources, which of course has nothing to do with writing novels. She has also worked in a bakery, an insurance agency, a flower shop, and a doctor's office, which have nothing to do with writing, either. She did spend an awesome two years as an assistant editor for a publisher, and now does freelance editing on the side. Nicki still holds down a day job, which manages to get her out of the house once in a while. She's been writing since 2010 and loving it.Nicki lives in upstate New York with her husband, son, and assorted pets. If you can't find her at her computer, you can always try the local Renaissance Faire.

Book preview

Inc.

Heavy Netting

by

Nicki Greenwood

The Lobster Cove Series

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Heavy Netting

COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Nicki Greenwood

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Crimson Rose Edition, 2014

Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-589-0

The Lobster Cove Series

Published in the United States of America

Praise for Nicki Greenwood

"[THE SERPENT IN THE STONE is] tightly written…tense and fascinating…hot."

~Danica St. Como, author

~*~

FLASHPOINT

2nd Place, 2006 Golden Pen Contest

~*~

THE SERPENT IN THE STONE

3rd Place, 2006 Barclay Sterling Contest

Dedication

For my grandmother, Vincentina

Chapter One

Lobster Cove. What kind of a sadistic prank of fate was this?

Dead on his feet, Branson Cudahy pushed open the door to Maggie’s Diner. The place teemed with a chattering breakfast crowd, and the smells of coffee and bacon curled around him with homey invitation. He trudged to the single empty booth by a front window, then plopped down before he meant it when his bum knee gave out.

He opened his mouth to mutter a curse, but a little boy in the next booth had turned around to stare at him with wide blue eyes. Bran stifled the cuss word and rubbed his knee instead.

All things considered, he ought to thank it for the forced transfer of profession.

Some days.

He removed his battered ball cap, then set it on the table and slid his other hand through his hair, three or four weeks past a decent cut. Lobster Cove probably had a barber shop somewhere, if he looked. Always assuming he cared. His knee throbbed, and his head had begun to join in on the percussion session. Sitting in the car for two days kind of did that.

He dialed his parents first. When his mother answered, he took a deep breath. I’m here, Mom.

He heard her hail his father, who picked up another extension. Glad to hear it, Aaron Cudahy said with a note of humor. Now, come home.

Bran started to chuckle, but stopped when his headache sharpened. Soon.

You always say that, his mother protested. When are you going to stop getting yourself in trouble and come work on the farm?

Maybe tomorrow, he said, his usual response, and he forced the same note of humor past his headache. His whole family ran some aspect of Cudahy Farm, a sprawling horse breeding and training facility…himself excepted. He’d taken to the exception with more zeal than his parents. They worried, even through their pride in him. After fending off more teasing requests to hurry home, he hung up with them.

I’ll bet you could use some coffee, said a cheery female voice.

He nodded, still rubbing his head.

Any ideas on what you’d like to eat yet?

Something that doesn’t stare back, and isn’t fish.

Pause. Anything in particular?

Just the basics.

Another pause. All right, then. This time, her voice had cooled a little, but it was no less cordial. Footsteps began to fade away.

I mean it, no fish! he called…a bit louder and pissier than he’d intended. Knee and car trip and impending headache must have been conspiring to turn him into a super-jerk. Everyone else in the diner was now looking sidelong at him in that Who-let-him-in sort of way. Bran cleared his throat. Ma’am, he amended.

The waitress turned back around, and Bran swallowed his tongue and whatever else he’d been about to say.

A few sunny blonde curlicues had escaped from the pinned-up mass at the back of her head. Her eyes were huge and blue, made even bluer by the pale-green polo shirt tucked in above her waist apron and short skirt. How could a woman with that much curve have that small a waist? Bran let his gaze roam over her mouthwatering figure and long legs in complete stupefaction before thinking to check for a name tag. He half expected to see Tinker Bell printed there, but the tag simply said Jenna.

She bobbed her head and smiled, all sweet but no friendly. Sure. Spinning away toward the kitchen, she left him sitting there hanging out in the wind with his attitude.

Nice job ingratiating yourself with the locals, he thought. He snatched his cell phone back up, then punched in the numbers for his longtime friend at the Lexington Police Department. Rudy, how’s it going?

Cuddy. Rudy’s voice was all business. A call from Bran to the police department usually meant a hot trail. Bran hoped like hell it would hold true this time. Got something for me? Rudy prodded.

Chasing shadows, he answered, studying a wall border of framed photos up by the ceiling. Past patrons of the diner, from the looks of it.

Rudy hadn’t answered. Bran could almost hear him thinking, and when Rudy was silent like that, it often meant a forthcoming outline of what he thought Bran should do next…whether or not Bran needed the advice.

Bran sent a glance toward the kitchen. Maybe he’d come up with a few pointers on how to smooth things over when you’d been an ass.

Chasing shadows where? Rudy wondered.

Bran exhaled with resigned anticipation. Lobster Cove, Maine.

Rudy’s guffaw blasted into Bran’s ear. He jerked the phone twelve inches away, but could still hear it, clear as clear. Even the kid in the next booth shot Bran a curious look before his parents shooed him back to his meal.

Yeah, it’s a real hoot, Bran said.

Rudy managed to stop chortling long enough to dog Bran with his original issue. Which shadow is it?

Obsidian. You know the drill.

Aw, man, you gotta give that case a rest. It’s killing you, Rudy said, sympathetic now.

No, Bran shot back. I got this.

Come on, buddy. It’s a waste of your time, a waste of my time….

I’ve got a hunch. This E-mail came under my nose. Could be a copycat, could be nothing…but if I get my hands on him, I’m gonna finish it.

You can’t keep running over that lost cause, Bran. Even the force back-burnered it. There’s other cases—better cases—aren’t there?

Bran curled his lip. Two-point-six million dollars was far from a lost cause. His temper sparked, but everything directed itself