This Great Smoky Mountains cabin has been in my family for seven generations. When Jake died, and the bridge was flooded as it is now, we had to bury him on site. It was like losing my twin. I came back to move past the feeling that they buried me in that grave too-and I meant to do that by myself. But with the storm raging, my cousin's handsome friend gets trapped here with me. Things could be worse. The guy's interesting, and he's funny. And he's got this thick beard that-but anyway when we discover several disturbing entries in the visitors' log and an eccentric neighbor spying through the windows, we realize that Jake's death was no accident, and ours may be next.

Playful and sexy, this mystery/romance delves into the backwoods oddities of the author's Southern heritage. "The South Jennifer writes of is the William Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor South. Darkly romantic. Hot and humid. Haunted and gothic...grown slowly from some dark, rich soil." -The Performing Songwriter Magazine