Model Romi Mendez has spent most of her life believing her mom abandoned her, but the truth has finally been revealed, along with her mom’s body. Now Romi has one goal: to make her father pay for his crimes. But as new leads come to light and masks get stripped away, the possibility of another funeral becomes all too real.
Three years ago, lawyer Aaron Bartlett forced Romi to confront her demons, and now she acts as if he’s Satan himself. He can’t hope for forgiveness, but maybe he can help to see justice served? When Romi teams up with sharp-tongued PI Dallas Carver, his patience is tested, and so are his survival skills. Some people in Baldwin’s Shore would rather their secrets stayed buried…
Buried Secrets is a standalone romantic mystery novel in the Baldwin's Shore series.
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Excerpt – Romi…
Rain streaked the windows against a grey September sky as the airplane descended toward Portland. Figured. The weather matched my mood, and that mood reflected my life in general.
Miserable.
Not that I could admit it. Wasn’t I living the American dream?
The world sure seemed to think so. I had millions in the bank, a wealthy silver fox on my arm, a body made for the runway, and—as of last month—my own accessories line.
I also had an ex-boyfriend who refused to get the message, more addictions than I cared to think about, and what my therapist termed “father complex” but society called “daddy issues.”
Most of the time, I felt as if I was living in a house of cards, just one gust away from the walls collapsing on top of me.
And a storm was brewing in Oregon.
Home.
Funny I should still think of it that way when I’d spent the first eighteen years of my life counting down the hours until I could get the hell away from there. In the past eight years, I’d set foot in Baldwin’s Shore precisely twice, both times for funerals, and this visit was no different.
There were three things I wanted from this trip—firstly, to get justice for my mom, secondly, to catch up with my brother and a few old friends, and thirdly, to keep far, far away from Aaron Bartlett. Which was easier said than done when he was my brother’s best friend and his fiancée’s only sibling.
Davis reached across the armrest and squeezed my hand. “We can leave whenever you want. Just say the word.”
“Probably it would look bad if we skipped town after an hour.”
“Let’s try to stick things out overnight?”
If I could have sent flowers and a card, I would have, but this time, the deceased was my mother. I owed it to her to be there, and to my brother as well. How long did it take to arrange a funeral? A couple of days? A week? As for her death, we all knew who’d killed her.
Our father.
Davis’s personal assistant was on standby to assist with anything we needed, and she was an organisational genius. She’d already scheduled our flights, hired a car, and booked a room at the new resort that had opened on the outskirts of Baldwin’s Shore since I last visited. The Peninsula got five glowing stars in every review, thank goodness. The only other options were the Starfish Motel or my brother’s guest room, and the thought of setting foot in the Starfish filled me with horror considering the number of health citations the place had received over the years.
My brother’s guest room? Well, I’d rather stay at the motel.
The woman across the aisle glanced at me again—a look I’d seen a thousand times before. She was wondering if she recognised me, curious but too polite to ask. Hardly surprising since my face graced the cover of the magazine in her lap. On another day, a better day, I might have struck up a conversation, but today, the attention made my skin itch. The cabin crew hadn’t left me alone either. Next time, I’d listen to Davis when he suggested taking a private jet.
I’d also learn to pack lighter. Despite dressing impeccably at all times, Davis had managed to fit everything he needed into only one suitcase while I needed three, and after fifteen minutes of waiting, there was still no sign of the third on the baggage carousel. Tell me they hadn’t lost it? The whole damn world was being sent to try me this week.
“Excuse me? Are you Romina Mendez?”
I turned to find a pair of teenage girls staring up at me, nervous but hopeful. The smaller of the two looked as though she might run away if she didn’t get the answer she wanted.
“Romina would rather—” Davis started, but I put a hand on his arm.
“It’s okay.” I remembered being a teenager, star-struck when I thought I’d spotted Hugh Jackman in an airport. Except it wasn’t Hugh Jackman, it was an accountant called Steve, but I’d felt bad for stopping him, so I’d asked for a selfie anyway. He’d laughingly agreed. Probably told the story at parties now. “Sure, I’m Romina. Do you want pictures?”
Davis took their phones and obliged while they giggled and I smiled a humourless smile, one I’d practised enough times to know that it would look good on camera.
“Are you in Oregon for a photo shoot?” the taller girl asked.
“Just visiting the beach.”
A bland reply that gave no meaningful information. I used to blurt out everything, but Davis had been coaching me over the past three years, and I’d learned an important lesson: if you didn’t give people anything personal, they couldn’t use it against you. These days, I second-guessed the questions I’d be asked and prepared canned answers or sometimes lies.
“Which beach? Cannon Beach?”
“Oh, there’s my suitcase.” Thank the stars. “Great meeting you.”
I flashed one more smile as Davis hauled my case off the conveyor and stacked it onto the cart. Dread settled in my stomach. Too late to run, too late to make some pathetic excuse and fly back to New York.
I had to bury my mother, make sure my father ended up in jail where he belonged, and answer awkward questions about why I hadn’t been home for so long.
Oh, and avoid Aaron.
Excerpt – Aaron…
Even though I’d broken the glass deliberately, the tinkle of the shards falling into my trash can still made me wince. The gift had been a joke—from Romi, ironically—a miniature bottle of Scotch in a red box, with a tiny hammer stuck to the side and “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY BREAK GLASS” written across the front in block letters. The box had sat on a shelf behind my desk for the past five years, first in New York and then in Baldwin’s Shore, and only once before had I been tempted to drink the contents. I’d resisted, but now memories of that night had come back to taunt me.
Because Romi was in town.
A town she’d sworn never to set foot in again.
I understood why she’d come, applauded it, but that comprehension did nothing to ease the tension between us. Even though I’d kept my word, kept my mouth shut about what had happened between us three years ago, Romi still hated my guts, my dick, every fibre of my being. I couldn’t entirely blame her. Now that I’d had time to reflect, I saw there were a dozen other ways I could have handled the situation that night. Smarter ways. Ways that wouldn’t have involved lying to my best friend and losing the girl I’d had feelings for since puberty.
Even back then, I’d known she’d break my heart. Romi had a way about her, a layer of feistiness over a core of vulnerability, sass that hid sweetness. Plus she was a free spirit.
A dangerous mix.
That was why I’d made a pact with Luca—I’d stay away from Romi if he kept his hands off Brooke. At the time, it had seemed like a win-win situation. Luca chased anything with breasts, charmed girls from Coos Bay to Coquille out of their panties, and then “forgot” to call them afterward. I’d hated the thought of my sister getting hurt, and I’d also wanted to protect myself from whatever havoc Romi might wreak.
Years later, I’d cracked and taken a taste of her, spent one forbidden night doing all the things I swore I never would. A mistaken night. A night that had ended with me dropping her off at the Maple Mountain Recovery Center in upstate New York. Not a mountain or a maple in sight, but the place had an excellent reputation, although at eighty thousand bucks a month, I’d have expected nothing less.
The media reported that Romi had been suffering from exhaustion.
Luca believed she’d checked in to get help with her alcohol problem.
I knew her issues ran far, far deeper.
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