Hands push Marie Jessica (“MJ”) Goodrich from a rural roadway into an icy creek. The clock is ticking for her pleading friend on the other side of the ravine.
Running from flashbacks of a life-altering attack in Afghanistan, MJ takes refuge with her mother, managing Peach Blossom Orchard. But peace is illusive in a rural Oklahoma town full of secrets.
After losing his wife and children in a fatal car crash, Josh Rivers doubts he deserves a second chance at love. He can’t believe his bad luck when MJ, the woman who plagues the nightmares of his military service in Afghanistan, shows up in his hometown. She claims a driver ran down and abducted her friend Kelsey. Frustrated with the county sheriff’s investigation, MJ and Josh partner to follow clues that lead to a kidnapper who demands a bizarre ransom.
With danger increasing for everyone MJ loves, will the clock run out before they solve the mystery? Find out how MJ and Josh—swirling in a whirlwind of mystery and suspense—lean on their mutual faith to find answers, courage, forgiveness, healing … and wholesome romance.
If you like to read Christy Barritt and Colleen Coble, you’ll love Into the Fog, a keep-you-up-at-night clean romantic suspense novel that launches the Peach Blossom Orchard series.
Purchase a copy here! This post contains affiliate links.
The sight of an opaque wall of fog stopped her legs and tightened her neck muscles. We could get lost in there. Fall off the bridge into the creek. She shuddered, massaged the scar on her abdomen, circled her head to loosen the muscles.
She hadn’t realized the town of Peach Blossom experienced such unsettling weather when she moved from Phoenix last month. Tornadoes, yes, but not impenetrable fog.
Her mother’s cellar promised protection from tornadoes. This kind of fog was just… well, it felt like a colony of killer bees swarmed inside her stomach. That reminded her to find someone to help move the bees from the attic to the orchard to pollinate the trees rather than buzz her awake every morning.
Another glimpse of the murkiness that obscured the bridge increased her tension. Kneading the scar didn’t help, so she shifted from worrying about fog and Africanized bees to stretching exercises. She’d learned not to let her muscles seize up when she served in Afghanistan with the Army Rangers a few years back, the worst and the best time of her life.
The thought almost had her grabbing the abdominal scar again.
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