After losing her father and brother in the line of duty, Missy Prescott vows never to get involved with anyone who has a dangerous job. Blessed with a golden voice, she takes a job as a disc jockey with her own late-night lovelorn dedication show on a popular radio station in Baltimore.
Blake Decker has never had a family. He has come to count on the only family he knows—his brothers on the police force. He’s a one-night-stand kind of guy when it comes to relationshipsA.
Betty McAllister, the caring woman who used to live in Missy’s apartment, is now a ghost. She refuses to cross over until Blake—whom she viewed as her own son—is happily in love. She thinks Missy is the perfect girl for him.
Missy and Blake need to keep each other at a distance as they work together to help Betty find a way to cross over. But when danger lurks, will Missy and Blake lose everything?
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About The Author:
Joya Fields has been making up stories for as long as she can remember, and it’s all her parents’ fault! They allowed only one T.V. in her childhood home and even that was rarely turned on. So, to entertain her sisters (and herself), Joya developed Story Hour. Her siblings’ wide-eyed, rapt attention fascinated Joya almost as much as the chorus of “Oh, no... don’t stop!” that followed when she whispered, “The End.” Their enthusiasm, she believes, is what encouraged her to continue making stuff up.
As she grew older, Joya put pencil to paper and wrote stories to give as gifts. Everyone thought she was so clever. She thought she was pretty smart, too, because her gifts didn’t dent her allowance.
It came as no surprise to anyone when Joya obtained a B.A. in English from the University of Maryland.
Over the years, she has taught arts and crafts, worked in public relations, owned a daycare center, helped her children raise prize-winning 4-H animals, completed three marathons, and even spent a year as a Baltimore Colts cheerleader.
Joya still enjoys turning stories into gifts. Most recently, she gathered memories from her husband’s 10 siblings and turned them into a memoir, presented to her in-laws at Christmas.
Yes, Joya continues to make up stories... but now, her work wins writing contests and inspires acceptance letters from editors. Over 100 of her stories and articles have been published in magazines and newspapers, and she’s putting the finishing touches on her fifth novel…a romantic suspense.
When she’s not busy writing articles, short stories, and novels, Joya loves spending time with her romantic hero/high school sweetheart/husband of over twenty years, two very supportive teenaged children, and a pug who follows her everywhere she goes.
A shadow moved from the other side of the hallway. Blake froze, and his fingers moved to his weapon. He blinked. Nothing there. He dug in his pocket for his keys and glanced at Missy’s doorway.
Betty—wearing her pink sweat suit and flamingo earrings—stood grinning at him. She winked, raised her hand, and then knocked three times on Missy’s door.
Blake’s mouth opened and then closed. Betty disappeared. He closed his eyes for a half a minute and then opened them when he heard Missy’s door open.
Missy stood in the doorway wearing the same clothes as earlier. A white T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a simple necklace that hung between her breasts, spiraling the memory of her body to the forefront of his mind. He knew exactly how those curves felt under his hands and he craved the feel of them again.
“Hey. Thanks for stopping by the bookstore today.” Missy pocketed her hands in her jeans, pulling them down just enough for him to get a glimpse of her lower belly. He swallowed in order to concentrate.
“You—you should look out your peephole before you open your door.” There. He’d be the concerned policeman who lived across the hall. But how the hell had Betty…no, it couldn’t have been Betty. What was going on?
Missy frowned. “You feeling all right?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“’Cause I did look out my peephole and I saw you.” She tilted her head. “I sort of thought it was okay to open up since it was my neighbor, the cop.”
How had he gotten in front of her door? He’d been several feet away when Betty…when…. Oh shit. He really needed that beer now. Time for a change of subject. He’d process the other stuff later.