{"product_id":"sunburned-isbn-9780593726495","title":"Sunburned:A Novel","description":"\u003cb\u003eSt. Barth’s has a murder rate of zero. But that’s about to change.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Utterly delectable and addicting . . . \u003ci\u003eSunburned\u003c\/i\u003e is what happens when Agatha Christie meets a thoroughly modern, sexy sensibility.”—Ashley Winstead, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eMidnight Is the Darkest Hour\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Audrey Collet’s ex Tyson calls, threatening to expose the skeletons in her closet unless she helps him figure out who is blackmailing him, she wants nothing more than to refuse. Though their relationship ended over a decade ago, the scars are deep. And since his tech company made him a billionaire, he’s become more than a little eccentric . . . and paranoid.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut a foot has washed ashore in the Everglades—that’s right, an actual human foot, encased in an Air Jordan—and Tyson is quick to remind Audrey that it’s one whose long-dead owner they both have a connection to. A connection that could prove problematic, if it got out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAudrey reluctantly agrees to meet Tyson at his home on the swanky Caribbean island of St. Barth’s to help him figure out who in his entourage is extorting him and what they know about the secrets he and Audrey share. Once there, she realizes that each person staying at Tyson’s lavish estate has a reason to wish him harm. Could the culprit be the gorgeous Belgian wife whose wings he’s clipped? The celebrity business partner he’s essentially holding hostage? The older brother who’s always been in his shadow? Or the sexy French butler he seems to trust more than he should?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAudrey has only just scratched the surface of what’s going on behind closed doors when Tyson’s birthday dive turns deadly, and she realizes that one of the seven people trapped on his yacht with her is not just a blackmailer but a murderer. If Audrey can’t catch the killer in time, she might become the next victim. | \u003cb\u003eAdvance praise for \u003ci\u003eSunburned\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Utterly delectable and addicting . . . \u003ci\u003eSunburned\u003c\/i\u003e is what happens when Agatha Christie meets a thoroughly modern, sexy sensibility.”\u003cb\u003e—Ashley Winstead, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eMidnight Is the Darkest Hour\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A sizzling, page-turning romp . . . Katherine Wood delivers a clever tale of what happens when the rich and beautiful behave badly. This captivating story of betrayal and denial will make you think long and hard about karma.”\u003cb\u003e—Meredith Lavender and Kendall Shores, authors of \u003ci\u003eHappy Wife\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A smart, juicy tale . . . As bubbly and effervescent as a flute of chilled Dom Perignon.”\u003cb\u003e—Morgan Richter, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Divide\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for Katherine Wood\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“When we say we want a hot and sexy thriller, well, Katherine Wood absolutely delivered.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eCosmopolitan\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Wood has expertly mixed romance with mystery in a novel.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Wood ingeniously orchestrates the plot to a series of powder-keg reveals.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Publishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e | \u003cb\u003eKatherine Wood\u003c\/b\u003e is a native of Mississippi and a graduate of the University of Southern California. She is the author of the novel \u003ci\u003eLadykiller,\u003c\/i\u003e and also writes under the pen name Katherine St. John. She lives in Atlanta with her husband, their two children, a naughty pug, and a ferocious kitty. | \u003cb\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI'd said no. Of course I’d said no.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’d never wanted to see Tyson Dale again, much less spend his birthday with him at his compound in St. Barth’s. And yet here I was on the tarmac at Miami Executive Airport, his sleek jet looming above me in the noonday sun like a dog sent to fetch a toy for its master.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt did not escape me that I was the toy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe driver had only just popped the trunk of the chauffeured Suburban that Tyson had dispatched to collect me from my house this morning when a uniformed attendant appeared and took possession of my roller bag. “Is this everything, Ms. Collet?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’d been sure I’d grossly overpacked for what was to be only a five-­day trip, but his question made me wonder whether I should have brought more. Regardless, it was too late now. “That’s it. Thank you,” I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThough I’d already hugged them goodbye, my ten-­year-­old boys bounded out of the SUV like a pair of puppies, salivating over the sight of the aircraft, and I suddenly understood why they had insisted on accompanying me to the airfield.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Can we go on it, Mom?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Please?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pleeease, Mom?” they pleaded in unison.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTheir identical faces were like mine, sharp-­featured with a straight nose, though their lips were wide while mine were bow-­shaped, their eyes brown to my blue. They countered their indistinguishable appearance with opposite style, Benji the more clean-­cut of the two, his nearly black hair spiky and short, while Alex’s long, straight mop fell in his dark eyes, but their mannerisms mirrored each other’s, and they often spoke as one, as they did now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pleeease?” their voices chorused again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey’d shot up so much this year that I didn’t have to bend to look them in the eye as I placed a hand on each of their shoulders, shaking my head. “We talked about this.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut the pretty stewardess at the bottom of the airstair had different ideas. “We have plenty of time until wheels up if they’d like to explore the plane,” she said, smiling sweetly at the boys.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey whooped and high-­fived, sprinting up the stairs before I could so much as protest, the stewardess on their heels. “Is it okay if I give them juice? It’s fresh-­squeezed mango, pineapple, and orange. Tyson’s children’s favorite.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eTyson’s children.\u003c\/i\u003e I was startled to hear the words come out of her mouth, but of course he was the father of two sons by his ex-­wife and a daughter by another woman. A lot had happened in the decade since we’d last seen each other. Well, a lot had happened to him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLess had happened to me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sure,” I acquiesced, forcing a smile.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You were right,” Rosa said, getting out of the car to stand beside me in the shadow of the jet. “We should’ve asked for more money.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Told you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosa tucked a brunette curl behind her ear and grinned, displaying her dimple. She’d recently cut her hair to just above her shoulders, and it suited her face, accentuating her large dark eyes and rosy cheeks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosa was named Friendliest in high school, her warm smile always at the ready, while my RBF had earned me the moniker Ice Queen, my introversion mistaken for aloofness. We might never have become friends if her family hadn’t moved in next door to my mom and me when we were in ninth grade. Now more of a sister, she was my children’s honorary auntie, and, since she left the police force a year ago, my business partner at Sunshine Discovery Agency.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo, we’re not spies, though spying on people does come with the territory.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDiscovery agents are most often employed by attorneys to collect pre-­litigation information before cases go to trial, though we are sometimes hired by corporations or individuals to gather intelligence privately. As a computer systems expert, I specialize in the digital side of things, while Rosa handles the human half, a division that plays to our natural strengths. In normal circumstances, Rosa would be the one jetting off to St. Barth’s to meet with the client while I gladly stayed behind to provide digital support from the comfort of my office.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut Tyson Dale was no normal circumstance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe money wasn’t why I was going. I had my own reasons—­reasons that Tyson was quick to remind me of when I’d initially turned him down. But he understood that Rosa hated him and would never have let me go had he not offered a generous sum for our services that would allow her to buy the new car she so desperately needed. He was smart like that, always acutely aware of pressure points and unafraid to take advantage of them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo for once, I was the one boarding the plane while she stayed behind to watch my boys.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Not gonna lie, I kinda want to see the inside of the jet too,” Rosa said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI sighed and waved for her to follow as I started up the airstair.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWe found the boys in the cockpit peppering the good-­natured pilots with questions, their faces aglow. They were enjoying the attention, and there wasn’t room for all of us in the small enclosure, so I gratefully accepted the cold towel the stewardess offered and followed her into the elegant cabin of the plane.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe closest I’d ever been to a private jet was seeing one on television, but I knew better than to gape as I took in the buttery cream leather seats and glossy wood accents, realizing as I cleaned my hands with the rosemary-­scented towel that it was likely more for the plane’s benefit than for mine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosa sank into a captain’s chair, rubbing her palms over the smooth armrests. “I could get used to this,” she said. “Why’d you guys break up, again?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI glared at her and she laughed, accepting a glass of champagne from the stewardess as I politely declined, not exactly in a celebratory mood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Joking, of course,” she said, sipping her bubbles. “His ego is definitely not worth a billion dollars. Though, I mean, he does travel all over the world for work, right? How much would you really have to see him?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer cell rang, and she raised it to her ear. “Sunshine Discovery Agency . . . No, this is Rosa Rodriguez, I’m her business partner. What is this concerning?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer eyes met mine as she listened, her brow furrowing. “No comment. Please do not call here again.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What was that about?” I asked as she hung up, jamming the phone into the pocket of her jeans.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That was a reporter, hoping to talk to you about your relationship with Ian Kelley.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI grimaced. “Shit, that was fast.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brace yourself. It may be a shitstorm by the time you get back.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe thought made me physically ill.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe stewardess appeared with my boys on her heels, now sucking on lollipops. “It’s time to prepare for takeoff.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosa chugged half her glass of champagne and rose, wrapping me in a hug. “See you in five days. I’ll keep the wolves at bay while you’re gone. And seriously, anything you need, just say the word. I can’t wait to hear what it is Tyson’s willing to pay us a hundred grand for.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah, same,” I said, kissing my boys on their foreheads.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut I had an idea. | Author of Ladykiller","brand":"Bantam","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48759513907429,"sku":"NP9780593726495","price":20.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593726495.jpg?v=1775598841","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/sunburned-isbn-9780593726495","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}