DaSample: A Killing Tide by P.J. Alderman

From RITA-nominated A Killing Tide by P.J. Alderman, an atmospheric romantic suspense set in the small, picturesque fishing town of Astoria, Oregon at the mouth of the Columbia River:

Newly appointed fire chief Michael Chapman, a recent transplant from Boston, tries to get a handle on brewing trouble and his reaction to the intriguing woman who appears to have placed herself in harm's way…

(An interruption from Edie. I read A Killing Tide and gave it a 5-star review. It's a page-turner and I kept saying Wow! as I read it. Now, back to the excerpt.)

Michael Chapman leaned back in his booth and watched the Jorgensen woman leave. Thick, waist-length, blond hair, a slim, athletic body, and soft, chocolate brown eyes. And attitude—tons of it.

He grimaced. He hadn't paid much attention to women the last couple of years—a sad fact his friends in the Boston Fire Department had pointed out repeatedly—but Kaz Jorgensen had caught his attention and held it. And after talking to her, he could sympathize with the reactions he'd seen on the faces of the other men when she'd arrived. A few had watched her with wistful expressions, a few with barely concealed irritation. But the rest had looked relieved, perhaps even exasperated—probably fishing buddies who'd been worried about her. He'd bet she drove them crazy on a good day, taking chances they privately labeled foolish. She'd certainly caused him a qualm or two when she'd waded into the middle of a brewing bar fight—one that looked as if it might get real ugly, real fast.

Most of the patrons were typical of any waterfront tavern—hard-working, decent people. He'd been looking for just that kind of place when he'd come through the door, and he hadn't been disappointed. He'd looked forward to relaxing, getting a handle on the locals.

The atmosphere in this place, though, was beyond tense. He'd already been sizing up a few hard-looking locals and monitoring the brewing fight when the blonde had jumped in. She was damn lucky, even if one of them was her brother—she easily could've gotten roughed up.

He grimaced, reaching down to rub Zeke's stomach. The dog moaned appreciatively in his sleep. Christ. He'd learned his lesson, hadn't he? He had no business wondering what secrets these people were hiding.

He'd moved out west to find some measure of peace in his life, not to take on someone else's troubles. All he had planned for the next few days was to move his belongings, which had finally shown up several days late, into the Victorian fixer-upper he'd purchased for Zeke and himself on the east side of town. To renew his acquaintance with a few carpentry tools.

Shoving aside his half-eaten burger, he pulled out his wallet, adding an extra five for tip. As he did, he glanced around the bar, noting the closed expressions. Felt the undercurrents. And, in spite of himself, was intrigued.

Those guys hadn't been fighting about anything as minor as Kaz Jorgensen had wanted him to believe. This town had secrets.

Too many secrets.

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Find out more about P.J. Alderman at her website.