Forced To The Altar
"This was not part of the plan," Julianne Johnson muttered, the words swallowed by the drone of a speedboat as it raced toward Promontory, one of the San Juan Islands off the Washington coast. According to the Internet, the islands were tourist havens dotted with fishing villages, artist colonies and bicycle paths. But not Promontory — or the Prom, as the boat pilot called it — which was accessible only by private boat or helicopter, not a public ferry.
She studied the approaching island. How could it be so isolated and have tourists? Although she'd been sent here to lay low during her brother's trial, she would earn her keep by working for the owner of the Spirit Inn, Zach Keller. If there was an inn, there must be visitors, right?
Maybe it wouldn't be as lonely as she pictured. "Where's the town?" she shouted to the pilot, Mr.
Moody, a sixtyish man with gunmetal gray hair and a muscular physique.
He pointed ahead. She saw nothing but trees, crags and a steep, rugged rock — a promontory — projecting into the Pacific Ocean.
Purgatory seemed like a more appropriate descr ... read full excerpt from: Forced to the Altar ebook
