Thin Ice

Nightmares still haunt PI Miranda Steele, and now that she’s closer than ever to finding her daughter, she wonders if she can handle the truth.

She's about to find out.

One determined woman.
One irresistible man.
One talented girl.
And one psychotic killer.

Can they stop him before he kills again?

You'll want to read book #5 of the exciting mystery-thriller series from bestselling author Linsey Lanier, because it's a nail biter.

Get it now.


He stumbled along the dreary path in the dark, groping his way. His limbs ached. His flesh felt as if it would fall from his bones. The air reeked of something putrid. The decay of his own body.

He had been here so long. So very long in this murky hell.

He stopped. What was that? Something behind him. A voice? He spun around and peered into the thick, muddy air.

He couldn’t see anything.

Who are you? He didn’t dare ask aloud.

There was nothing.

He turned around and began to plod forward again. But now he felt a presence behind him. And after a moment, he heard the voice. This time clearly.

I’m disappointed in you.

“Who are you?” Now he said it aloud.

You know.

And he did. “What do you want with me? I’m dead.”

I’m disappointed.


He spun back around, stared into the dark emptiness again and saw nothing. Disappointed. At that wretched word, his chest nearly collapsed in on itself. He fell to his knees, raised his hands over his head to shield himself from the blows. They didn’t come. They would later.

Disappointed? Why?

You know why.

His mind raced. He thought as hard as he could until stray bits of memory formed in his mind. The mission. He’d had a mission. But he’d done everything right. Everything as it should be. As instructed.

You failed me.

No, I did everything right. It was perfect.

You. Failed. Me.

And he knew that was right. “Give me another chance. I’ll do better. I promise.”

That’s why I’m here.

Another chance? His heart began to beat. Could he really have another chance? He would do it right this time. He would not fail again.

Can you do it?

“Yes. Yes, I can do it. I will do it. Will you help me?”

There was no answer. He reached out, trying to find the voice. But there was nothing. No, he wasn’t reaching out. He couldn’t move his arm. Couldn’t move his legs. Couldn’t move at all.

Where was he?

His eyes flickered open. He saw flashes of light. Tubes. He heard beeping. People were moving him, turning his paralyzed body over. Nurses? They were—washing him? Where was he?

Then his eyes closed again and he felt nothing.


Fire Dancer

A honeymoon in Maui.

A luxury beachfront resort.

A handsome wealthy new husband.

A vicious murder.

After all, this is PI Miranda Steele we're talking about. And where Miranda goes, trouble follows.

Will this Hawaiian adventure end in her ultimate destruction?

You’ll love this exciting thriller by bestselling author Linsey Lanier, because she knows how to tell a great story.

Get it now.


He awoke and found himself underwater.

Sharp panic clawed his insides, but somehow he was holding his breath. The open shirt he’d been wearing billowed around him, churning with the cold, raging water. He wanted to shiver. Instead, as if automatically, he began to swim.

The blowhole. He was in the blowhole.

As hard as he could, he battled the swirling waves. Harder. Faster.

It seemed like an hour before he broke through the water’s surface. At last his head came up and he gasped in air. He drank in more, more. But just as he thought he’d caught his breath, the dark current seized him again. He managed to take in one more gulp before it dragged him down again—and under.

His lungs burned. The pain was unbearable.


His panic climbed to a frenzied terror. He struggled to keep swimming, but the waves battered against him, weakening him until he felt like an old man. Still, he forced his arms to move, his feet to kick. After an eternity, the current reversed and forced him up again.

He paddled with his arms and legs as hard as he could. As the water gushed over him like a geyser, his head finally burst through the surface once more.

He couldn’t see, even in the moonlight. There was too much blood in his eyes.

He threw his head back and once more gasped in wonderful, sweet air. His vision cleared a little.


Right there. The edge of the blowhole. He reached out for them. Slid. Reached again.

The surface was too slippery. His hands were numb. He couldn’t pull himself out of the hole. Another wave would come over the lava wall soon. The waves were monstrous tonight, the sea at her angriest.

Refusing to give up, he reached again.

This time, he found a knob in the formation. Just beyond it was an indentation, forming a sort of handle. The pang of hope in his chest nearly burst his heart. He grabbed onto the knob and struggled to heave himself out of the water.

Part way up. A little more. His chest ached, his arms shook with fatigue. One more tug. Just one more and he’d be out.

But he couldn’t do it.

His arms gave out. His hand slipped. He cried out and slid back down into the swirling water. He could hear the roar of the next wave gathering. His heart pounded.

Think. Think.

He was still wearing his clothes. His open shirt. It might save him. Once again, he reached out for the knobby rock. With the last bit of strength he had, he tied the tail of his shirt around the outcropping. Maybe it would hold him up and keep him from being swept out to sea.

But just as he secured the cloth, the mountainous wave shot over the lava wall and rained down on him like a tsunami. It forced him down, down.

The water rose over his head. His shirt slipped off his body, caught around his neck.

But his shirttail held. He tried to grab onto it, use it like a rope, but his arm was twisted at the wrong angle.

Panic seized him. He fought hard. He had to reach the surface again but his strength was giving out. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer. He thrashed the water with his feet, beat it with his arms. He was so tired. His muscles, his ribs ached like fire. He couldn’t hold his breath. It was too much.

He fought to keep his mouth shut but his throat spasmed. His chest convulsed. Terror pounded in his eardrums. He would not open his mouth. He would not. Just a little longer.

But he couldn’t do it.

Of their own will, his lips sputtered and his jaw snapped open. He gasped and water flowed down his throat.

His body jerked. He gagged and coughed. That only made him take in more water. He was flailing now, his body convulsing. His head felt light. As if he were in a dream. He tried to wake up, but he could hardly move. Time seemed to stretch out into an endless vacuum.

His kicks slowed. His arms began to drift. His efforts to breathe ceased. And then there was blackness. He was still.

It was over.

Still tethered to the rock by his shirttail, his body bobbed in the waves as his life slipped out of him and into the sea.


Forever Mine

An old friend.

A bad smell.

A body stuffed into a wall.

You'll never escape.

In the town of her birth, Miranda must face her horrendous past.

And face a new challenge.

Can she stop a crazed killer who’s just discovered how much he enjoys murdering women?

Or will she become his next victim?

You’ll want to go along on this thrilling roller coaster ride, because it will keep you turning the pages.

Get it now.

Reviews:Amazon Reviewer wrote:

The mystery in this book puts you on the edge with suspense and leaves you there until the last page. Now it's time to go onto the next.

Delicious Torment

What happens when your old flame turns out to be a killer?

A ritzy steeplechase.

A terrible commotion in one of the stalls.

A beautiful young horse breeder found dead.

Newbie private investigator Miranda Steele knows she shouldn't get involved. But when the dead woman's sister begs her to take the case, Miranda can't resist the powerful need to set things right.

Was the young woman’s bizarre death an accident or murder?

And why is her sexy, ace investigator boss so aloof about the case?

Is he hiding something?

Miranda is determined to find out.

You’ll love this intriguing mystery, because it’s a book readers say they can’t put down.

Get it now.


Someone Else’s Daughter

Book Cover: Someone Else's Daughter

Her husband stole her baby, beat her up, and tossed her out in the snow.

She hunted for her daughter for years.

She came to Atlanta on a vague clue and instead found the dead body of a girl.

Is it her long lost daughter?

Find out now.

Also in audiobook.


Some women sit around in bars after they get dumped, complaining about the jerks who treated them like yesterday’s dog squeeze. Miranda Steele didn’t go to bars. She didn’t have friends to complain to. But she did have the dog squeeze beat out of her regularly by the jerk she was married to.

That was until one cold wintry day when the jerk decided to dump her and throw her out in the snow.

From the floor where Leon had left her, Miranda lifted a shaky hand to her mouth to stop the blood oozing from her cut lip. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done the night your bastard was conceived. What I’ve wanted to do for months.” His voice shook with quiet rage.

He jammed the suitcase shut, grabbed her by the wrist again and dragged her back downstairs.

“What are you doing?” Miranda screamed the words this time, as he wrestled the front door open.


“Purging my house.” He hurled the suitcase into the snow on the front yard. It broke open and her clothes tumbled onto the snowy grass. Then he gave her a hard shove.

She stumbled outside onto the cold concrete porch. Her feet were bare. She was still in her bathrobe.

“Leon,” she begged. “Let me back in. What will the neighbors think?”

“They’re at work. Besides, no one cares about you. They know what you are.” He pushed her again.

She staggered off the stoop and landed with a hard thud on the ground next to her clothes.

He grabbed her purse from a chair and tossed it into the snow beside her. “Take this and go, Miranda. Go away from me.” His voice shook with dark rage. “I never want to see your face again.” He turned and slammed the door so hard, it made her eardrums vibrate. She heard him turn the key.

Her chest heaving, she tried to catch her breath. As she sat on her bruised butt in her front yard in Oak Park, Illinois, dressed in only her PJs and bathrobe, staring up at the cheery, pink stucco two-story she’d lived in for seven years, Miranda didn’t wonder whether her “Lord and Master” had beaten her up and chucked her out because she hadn’t gotten the crease in his police uniform just right. Or because she’d mouthed off when he’d complained his steak was a bit singed last night.

She knew exactly why he’d done it. She had dared to lunge at the great, the powerful, the all-holy Leon Groth, with her nails bared.

And why had she done that? Not because he’d said she was stupid. Not because he’d called her a filthy whore. Not because he’d told her she was tainted, ruined. She was used to that.

Because early this morning, he’d snuck out of the house with her three-week-old daughter and given her up for adoption.


“Don’t worry. They assured me she’d go to a good home. A family who’ll never know her true origin. I’m not a monster, after all.”

Amy. Her baby.

How had Leon pulled it off? He must have forged Miranda’s signature on whatever documents he needed. As a cop, he was connected. He had friends on the force who’d turn a blind eye for a favor owed. He knew court clerks, judges.

The cold seeped into Miranda’s bones. Angry tears welled up in her throat. Amy. Her baby.

Get her back. I want her back.

She’s gone, Miranda. They took her away and neither of us will ever know where she went. You’ll never find her again.