Though all the novels in the Southern Suspene Series are connected, most can be read in any order. However, When Noonday Ends is the full follow-up to Land of the Noonday Sun. So if you haven't read...
SPOILER ALERT...
Go back to book 3.
Do not pass this point...
Oh, yay, you're still here. Carry on, then. :)
When a new attorney accepts a case of a woman accused of attempted homicide, he finds himself entwined in age-old secrets and a family who will stop at nothing to conceal them—even murder.
Prologue
Sitting at the rear of the courtroom, Tom Turner’s mind wandered. One person after another approached the judge, claiming their innocence. He hated doing this, but the law firm where he worked required all new attorneys to accept hardship cases. To get your feet wet, they’d said.
Like his father before him, he’d chosen a career as an attorney. And for once in his life, his parents were actually proud of him.
Still, most attorneys spent their days off golfing. He couldn’t stand golf, but he’d give anything to be kayaking right now. Often he thought of changing careers, as his best friend Chad had done. He had thrown away four years of medical school to manage an outdoor store he’d inherited from his parents. Tom had always thought that it had been a stupid decision, but now he wondered. His best friend was married to a beautiful woman, had a son, and could kayak every day if he wanted.
What Tom really wanted was to take a few months off from life and hike the Appalachian Trail. After the year he’d had, he needed some time away from life—all life. But then, his parents would be disappointed, and he’d miss his niece, Samantha. His sister had been one of the wildest women he’d ever known. But since she’d had Sam, she’d finally settled down and was trying to be a good mother. Being a single mother wasn’t easy, and Michelle needed him. If only to give her at least one night a week to unwind.
Tom threw his head back and closed his eyes. Just the smell of the courthouse was grating on him today. The oil they’d used on the old wooden floors was giving him a migraine.
“No contest, Your Honor.” A soft country voice roused him from his brooding.
Tom forced his eyes to focus on the woman standing in front of the judge. It couldn’t be. The smooth blond hair, that beautiful country voice. Brandy? He shook his head to clear it. Brandy was dead; he’d shot her more than a year ago.
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