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ROSE QUARTZ BLURB:
Isabella Tremaine's credo is always look your best even when you're running from the bad guys.
This modern Southern Belle has an ancient secret. Bella, as Isabella is known to her friends, is the possessor of a primeval amulet empowered by the gods with creativity and beauty, and this spunky blonde has an abundance of both. Unfortunately a madman has discovered Bella's secret and is determined to gain possession of the amulet, even if he must kill her to do so. It will take every wile in Bella's formidable arsenal of tricks to outwit the megalomaniac who is after her.
At the same time the madman is trying to steal her amulet, a ranch hand is trying to steal her heart. Bella is determined to not only stay alive but to keep her size five stilettos foot loose and fancy free. Who will prove the greater danger? The madman who wants her amulet or the ranch hand who wants her heart?
The big jet’s engines droned. Outside the windows, stars glittered like diamonds against black velvet. Isabella Tremaine—Bella to her friends--glanced at her watch. Ten p.m. She leaned her seat back and snuggled into the blanket provided to offset the cool air flowing through the plane.
The tangy aftershave of a passenger walking down the aisle tickled her senses. Pleasantly drowsy and drifting toward sleep, it took several moments for her mind to register the insidious unease pricking her body. The hairs on her nape rose. Needles of tension ran skeletal fingers up her spine settling in her neck. Someone was watching her.
She could sense the malevolence of the gaze crawling across her like a spider. Victor Price? Of course not he was in prison . . . wasn’t he?
The feeling of being watched had to be connected with the amulet. She could feel it in her bones. Under the blanket, she touched her forearm. Beneath the expensive mint green silk of her blouse, she felt the cool molten-gold band and its three raised stones. Who on the plane could possibly know about the piece of jewelry she always wore on her forearm and the power it gave the wearer, the power of both creativity and beauty?
With a click, she pulled the seat up and looked around. There were no first class seats available on her flight from
She looked at the young woman seated next to her. Her companion had spiky black hair and black fingernails bitten to the quick. The last time she’d returned from the restroom she had smelled of an illegal substance. Eyes closed, mouth open, and headphones on, the young Goth snored softly. No, the threat Bella sensed wasn’t coming from the young person at her elbow…at least she didn’t think so.
Straightening, Bella glanced around. Her sweeping gaze barely registered the admiring and occasional leering glances from the males on board. She had dealt with that sort of thing since she was thirteen. What she sensed and was looking for was the cold icy sheen of depravity. But evil was never that easy to recognize.