People are dying in Dr. Joshua Salvador’s ER. His medical assistant, only weeks from delivering her baby, hangs on to life by a thread. The symptoms seem horrifyingly familiar, and he begins to suspect the deaths are targeted at him. But, before he can figure things out, top TV investigator Rachel Wright is standing in the middle of his ER, convinced an outbreak, an epidemic, or even a botched flu vaccine could be the cause, and she’s going to tell the world.

“We should go to the bedroom.” His eyelids were heavy, his eyes intense with desire. “Your mom.” He sounded winded. “Elizabeth.” Like he was having trouble breathing, too. “Both asleep.” All Rachel could think about was how long she’d fantasized about this very moment. The reconnection. She wanted it fast and furious. “I’ve waited five years. I’m not waiting a second more.” She reached for his shirt, to pull him closer. His hand shot out. Stopping her. Her heart skidded. “What?” “At least let me…” He sprinted to the wall near the hallway. “Turn off lights.” He flipped the switch. The room went dark. The hair on her arms rose. “We’ll just be quiet.” Suddenly, he was on her again, arms around her waist, pulling her up, lifting her into him. Onto him. If only she didn’t have the damn yoga pants on. He took a step back. Wobbled. She threw out her hands, looking for something to steady herself. Her right hand knocked her wine glass, sending it sliding across the marble island, dropping to the tile floor with a loud crash. They froze. She wrapped her legs around his body, wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in that warm space where his neck and shoulders met and held her breath. No lights flipped on. No one was coming. That’s when she heard it. The sound of his desire. Blood pumping through the artery in his neck, pulsing with intensity. Then, she felt it. His heart thumping in his chest like a boxer’s fist. Her own flapping against her rib cage in time with his. She couldn’t breathe in this loud silence. Couldn’t see in this blinding darkness. But she could speak. “Oh God, don’t stop.” This time, her mouth found his, and she kissed him, urging him on. He carried her across the room, stumbling as his foot hit a piece of furniture, spinning. He hit a wall. He broke the kiss. “Your bedroom would be safer.” “I don’t want safe.” Her arms went up. “You never did.” He set her down.    

Author Linda Bond was born in San Francisco, California but spent most of her life in the south, attending middle and high school in Greenville, South Carolina and college at the University of Georgia in Athens, Georgia. She’s worked as a television news reporter and anchor in Fort Myers, Orlando and Tampa, Florida. For more than twenty years, she’s been a reporter, sharing important information with viewers on the latest medical breakthroughs and writing emotional, human-interest stories on those who have the courage and spirit to fight for their lives. She writes every day, under deadline, but has always loved losing herself in a good fiction story. Entangled Publishing released Bond’s two romantic thrillers Alive at 5 and Cuba Undercover. Flatline her newest medical thriller, releases in May 2020. Bond has received numerous writing awards in Romance Writer’s of America chapter contests. She has also won 13 Emmy awards, numerous Society of Professional Journalist, and Associated Press awards, as well as a Florida Bar award and Edward R. Murrow award. This former baton-twirling beauty queen from the deep south, now lives in Tampa Florida with her husband, two daughters and two stubborn Bulldogs named Sanford and Athens.