by Tami Hoag
Dear Reader,
People often ask how I got my start as a writer.
My first books were romance novels
for Bantam’s Loveswept line. Although the romance
genre might seem quite different from the
suspense I write now, I’ve found that the two
genres actually have many similarities.
For me, every good story has two important
ingredients: characters to root for and a mystery
to unravel—whether it’s an unsolved crime or
that bewildering emotion that perplexes us most
of all—love. Even the most intricate murder plot
can’t compare to the complex inner workings of
the human heart.
One of my very first books was McKnight in
Shining Armor. Heroine Kelsie Connors is
struggling to keep it all together. She has two
“high-energy” kids, a house filled with animals,
and several jobs as she tries to provide for
everyone. One day, there’s an embarrassing (I
don’t want to give it away!) mix-up at her
meeting with advertising executive Alec
McKnight. He can barely keep the smirk off his
exceedingly handsome face, flustering Kelsie. Just
when she’s sure she’s lost both the account and a
chance for a date with Alex, he shows up on her
doorstep, hoping to help this woman who’s
obviously in need of assistance. Kelsie’s already
smitten with his deep blue eyes and chivalrous
demeanor, but can she possibly add one more
complication to her already chaotic life?
I loved writing about Kelsie and Alec all those
years ago, and I hope that you’ll find them as
enjoyable now as I did at the start of my writing
career.
All my best,
Tami Hoag
Praise for the Bestsellers of Tami Hoag
THE ALIBI MAN
“Captivating thriller… [Elena] is a heroine readers will want to see more of.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Hard to put down.”
—The Washington Post
“A superbly taut thriller. Written in a staccato style that will have readers racing through the pages… Will leave readers breathless and satisfied.”
—Booklist
“A suspenseful tale, with a surprising ending; the author once again has constructed a hard-hitting story with interesting characters and a thrilling plot.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Elena Estes [is] one of Hoag’s most complicated, difficult and intriguing characters…. Hoag enhances a tight mystery plot with an over-the-shoulder view of the Palm Beach polo scene, giving her readers an up-close-and-personal look at the rich and famous…. The Alibi Man is her best work to date.”
—BookReporter.com
“An engrossing story and a cast of well-drawn characters.”
—Minneapolis Star Tribune
“[Hoag] gets better with every book. One of the tautest thrillers I have read for a long while.”
—Bookseller (U.K.)
“Hoag certainly knows how to build a plot and her skill has deservedly landed her on bestseller lists numerous times.”
—South Florida Sun-Sentinel
“Hoag has a winner in this novel where she brings back Elena Estes…. Hoag is the consummate storyteller and creator of suspense.”
—Mystery News
“Tami Hoag weaves an intricate tale of murder and deception…. A very well-written and thought-out murder/mystery. Hoag is able to keep you guessing and you’ll be left breathless until all the threads are unwoven and the killer is revealed.”
—FreshFiction.com
PRIOR BAD ACTS
“A snappy, scary thriller.”
—Entertainment Weekly
“Stunning… Here [Hoag] stands above the competition, creating complex characters who evolve more than those in most thrillers. The breathtaking plot twists are perfectly paced in this compulsive page-turner.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“A chilling thriller with a romantic chaser.”
—New York Daily News
“A first-rate thriller with an ending that will knock your socks off.”
—Booklist
“An engrossing thriller with plenty of plot twists and a surprise ending.”
—OK! magazine
“A chilling tale of murder and mayhem.”
—BookPage
“The in-depth characterization and the unrelenting suspense are what makes Prior Bad Acts an outstanding read. Gritty and brutal at times, Prior Bad Acts delivers a stunning novel of murder, vengeance and retribution…. Riveting and chilling suspense.”
—Romance Reviews Today
KILL THE MESSENGER
“Excellent pacing and an energetic plot heighten the suspense…. Enjoyable.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Everything rings true, from the zippy cop-shop banter, to the rebellious bike messenger subculture, to the ultimate, heady collision of Hollywood money, politics, and power.”
—Minneapolis Star Tribune
“Hoag’s usual crisp, uncluttered storytelling and her ability to make us care about her characters triumph in Kill the Messenger.”
—Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel
“A perfect book. It is well written, and it has everything a reader could hope for…. It cannot be put down…. Please don’t miss this one.”
—Kingston Observer
“[A] brisk read… it demonstrates once again why [Hoag’s] so good at what she does.”
—San Francisco Chronicle
“Action-filled ride… a colorful, fast-paced novel that will keep you guessing.”
—Commercial Appeal
“High-octane suspense… Nonstop action moves the story forward at a breath-stealing pace, and the tension remains high from beginning to end…. Suspense at its very best.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Hoag’s loyal readers and fans of police procedural suspense novels will definitely love it.”
—Booklist
“Kill the Messenger will add to [Hoag’s] list of winners…. This is a fast-moving thriller with a great plot and wonderful characters. The identity of the killer is a real surprise.”
—Daily American
“Engaging… the triumph of substance over style… character-driven, solidly constructed thriller.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Hoag upholds her reputation as one of the hottest writers in the suspense genre with this book, which not only has a highly complex mystery, multilayered suspense and serpentine plot, but also great characterizations … an entertaining and expertly crafted novel not to be missed.”
—CurledUp.com
DARK HORSE
“A thriller as tightly wound as its heroine… Hoag has created a winning central figure in Elena…. Bottom line: Great ride.”
—People
“This is her best to date…. [A] tautly told thriller.”
—Minneapolis Star Tribune
“Hoag proves once again why she is considered a queen of the crime thriller.”
—Charleston Post and Courier
“A tangled web of deceit and double-dealing makes for a fascinating look into the wealthy world of horses juxtaposed with the realistic introspection of one very troubled ex-cop. A definite winner.”
—Booklist
“Anyone who reads suspense novels regularly is acquainted with Hoag’s work—or certainly should be. S
he’s one of the most consistently superior suspense and romantic suspense writers on today’s bestseller lists. A word of warning to readers: don’t think you know whodunit ’til the very end.”
—Clute Facts
“Suspense, shocking violence, and a rip-roaring conclusion—this novel has all the pulse-racing touches that put Tami Hoag books on bestseller lists and crime fans’ reading lists.”
—Baton Rouge Advocate Magazine
“Full of intrigue, glitter, and skullduggery… [Hoag] is a master of suspense.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Her best to date, an enjoyable read, and a portent of even better things to come.”
—Grand Rapids Press
“A complex cerebral puzzle that will keep readers on the edge until all the answers are revealed.”
—Midwest Book Review
“To say that Tami Hoag is the absolute best at what she does is a bit easy since she is really the only person who does what she does…. It is a testament to Hoag’s skill that she is able to go beyond being skillful and find the battered hearts in her characters, and capture their beating on the page…. A superb read.”
—Detroit Free Press
BANTAM TITLES BY TAMI HOAG
The Alibi Man
Prior Bad Acts
Kill the Messenger
Dark Horse
Dust to Dust
Ashes to Ashes
A Thin Dark Line
Guilty as Sin
Night Sins
Dark Paradise
Cry Wolf
Still Waters
Lucky’s Lady
The Last White Knight
Straight from the Heart
Tempestuous/The Restless Heart
Taken by Storm
Heart of Dixie
Mismatch
Man of Her Dreams
ONE
“DAMN!”
“Jeffrey Connors, I do not want to hear that kind of language in this house,” Kelsie Connors said, admonishing her nine-year-old son while trying to dry the fingernail polish on her right hand as she attempted to butter a slice of toast with the left.
“But, Mom!” Jeffrey whined, peering at his mother over the myraid cereal boxes on the kitchen table. “My pencil broke and I have four math problems to finish and the bus is gonna be here in five minutes!”
Kelsie’s toast fell from her plate to the floor, landing facedown. An orange tiger-striped cat darted out from beneath the table and ran off with it. Kelsie dropped her knife and heaved a sigh. Murphy’s Law would have to strike full force today of all days, she thought.
An enormous dog with shaggy black and brown hair pushed open the basement door and bounded into the kitchen, his nails clicking on the linoleum floor. He gave two enthusiastic barks, reared up, and plopped his massive paws on the table, toppling the milk carton, which spewed its contents over five cereal boxes and two hand-quilted place mats that belonged in the dining room.
“Damn!” Kelsie bolted out of her chair, grabbed a dishtowel, and began sopping up the mess.
“Damn!” echoed the parrot from its cage in the dining room.
“Mom, you swore!” Jeffrey said, smiling.
“Who let Bronco in the house?” Kelsie asked in a tone of voice that did not invite confession. The towel she had grabbed had stuck to her nail polish, and now the fingernails of her right hand were coated with fuzz.
Jeffrey pointed to his thirteen-year-old sister as she danced into the room, absorbed in singing her latest favorite song along with the radio.
“Elizabeth did!”
“I did not!” the pretty blond girl denied automatically, glaring at her little brother.
“Cease fire!” Kelsie yelled, dragging Bronco by the collar to the back door. She tried to avoid brushing against his body because he shed year round, and she was already dressed for her meeting at Glendenning Advertising in downtown Minneapolis—which promised to be the most important meeting she’d attend since starting her talent agency for animals two years before.
With the dog safely out in the fenced backyard, she turned back to her children. “Now, listen up. I’ll be a little late tonight because they’re shooting that tissue commercial at three o’clock. The number at the studio is on the bulletin board; don’t call unless there’s blood. There are cookies in the cookie jar; don’t eat them all. Supper is at six. Don’t forget, I have a party tonight.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I thought you were quitting that job, Mom.”
Kelsie crossed her fingers and held up both hands. “As soon as I land the Van Bryant deal, sweetheart. If the people at Glendenning Advertising decide to use Darwin the chimp in the Van Bryant Department Store campaign, the first thing I’ll do is turn in my Naughty Nighties home party kit.”
When her marriage to Jack Connors disintegrated, Kelsie had found herself in a deep hole. She’d been twenty-nine years old with no solid work experience, two children to raise, and a mini-menagerie to feed. She’d kept a roof over their heads and food in the cupboards by giving lingerie sales parties. Then one day it hit her. Why not let her pets earn their own keep? The idea had mushroomed into a business—Monkey Business—named for Kelsie’s first outside client, Darwin the chimp.
She had enjoyed a certain amount of success with the business, but she still was struggling a bit financially. This was her make-it-or-break-it year. With the Van Bryant account under her belt, she would definitely make it. Without the Van Bryant deal, she could end up working as a clerk at the 7-Eleven again.
Darwin the chimpanzee, dressed in a red polo shirt and jogging shorts, sat staring morosely at Steve Randall, an account executive for Glendenning. Steve and Kelsie, who had met while working on a series of ads for a local children’s wear store, and Darwin and his owner, Millard Krispin, sat in the reception area outside the office of Glendenning vice-president Alexander L. McKnight.
“How’s Darwin feeling, Millard?” Kelsie asked the wiry little man sitting beside the chimp.
“Ooh,” Millard cooed, a worried look pinching his sharp features. He combed back a lock of unkempt brown hair and pushed his glasses up on his nose with his ring finger. “I don’t know, Kelsie. He hasn’t been himself since he worked that circus theme party at the Sons of Norway lodge in Coon Rapids.”
“Cute little guy,” remarked Mr. McKnight’s secretary, Ms. Bond. Ms. Bond, Kelsie noted, had a voice like Yosemite Sam and bore a rather startling resemblance to Hulk Hogan.
Kelsie smiled and nodded, smoothing her hands over her khaki skirt and glancing at her watch. They had been waiting nearly half an hour. If they had to sit much longer, Darwin was bound to lose his patience.
“Forget it, Vena!” a male voice suddenly boomed from the other side of McKnight’s door.
Kelsie jumped. Ms. Bond abandoned her typing, leaned toward Kelsie conspiratorially, and said, “His ex.”
“Alec,” the woman pleaded. “How can you turn me down?”
“Like this: No!”
Kelsie gulped. He sounded like the kind of man who kicked puppies out of his path. Steve had hinted he might be a hard man to sell an animal act to. Now they had to sell it to him on the heels of a fight with his ex-wife. Terrific.
Ms. Bond lit a cigarette. “Don’t let this tragic act of hers fool you. She’s a barracuda in Gucci pumps. Walks all over him, then has the gall to come waltzing in here asking for money for her sleazy boyfriend’s ‘fashion import’ business. Har! Who ever heard of fashion originals from Colombia? If that slimeball isn’t a drug dealer, I’m Hulk Hogan!”
Feigning a coughing fit, Kelsie turned toward Steve.
“Alec, please!” the woman begged. “Won’t you give me anything?”
“Vena,” Alexander McKnight responded in a voice laced with cynical amusement. “If you were on fire, I wouldn’t lend you my phone to call nine one one.”
Steve turned pale and sat back in his chair.
“You bastard!” the woman yelled. “You made me fly all the way
from New York just to turn me down!”
Alec McKnight laughed. “Sorry. Too bad you had to put all those miles on your broom for nothing.”
The unmistakable sound of a face being slapped echoed into the reception area, then the office door flew open and Vena McKnight stormed out. She was a beautiful woman with enormous black eyes and a wide, pouting mouth that gleamed with cherry-red lipstick. Her black hair was slicked back from her face. She paused only long enough to glare at Ms. Bond.
“Where’s Randall?” Alexander McKnight roared over the intercom.
Ms. Bond stubbed out her cigarette and jabbed a button on the machine. “On his way in, Mr. McKnight.”
Steve turned a shade of gray that matched the pinstripes of his navy blue suit. Kelsie reached up and straightened his tie. “Get a handle on it, Steve. We both need this job.”
Alexander McKnight was sitting behind a large oak desk when they entered his office. He looked formidable, Kelsie thought, unapproachable, and intimidating. She couldn’t decide whether his hair was black or brown, but it had red highlights, was fashionably cut, neatly combed, and parted on the left. His profile was almost hawkish as he scowled down at something on his desktop, eyes narrowed above high cheekbones, his mouth set in a tight line beneath a nose that was just barely aquiline enough to save it from being nondescript. Rising from his chair, he adjusted his dark double-breasted suit coat and regarded the peculiar foursome with eyes the exact shade of the deep sapphire blue of his silk tie.
On a scale of really bad moods, Alec thought, the one he was in now would have to rank about a mile and a half off the chart. Seeing Vena was enough to open wounds that hadn’t fully healed. Having her pour salt on them might have been a masochist’s idea of a great time, but it wasn’t his. He felt raw and angry. The fuse of his temper was frayed so short, he couldn’t have gotten a hold on it with a tweezers.
