The White Iris

Release date: February 8, 2016
The White IrisTime’s running out for Special Agent Trevor Clark and his FBI task force. They’re no closer to uncovering the identity of the Prophet, a dangerous serial killer who has been murdering new mothers and vanishing with their infants. If Trevor can’t unlock the clues, the killer’s threats to unleash what the FBI suspects is biological warfare could mean death for all of them. His only recourse is to swallow his pride and reach out to his former fiancée, the CDC’s renowned virologist, Dr. Julie Swift.

Two years ago, Julie ended their engagement after Trevor abandoned her when she needed him most. Now, faced with the possibility of the greatest epidemic since the Spanish flu, she has to put her faith and her safety, as well as that of countless others, into the hands of a man she doesn’t trust. Can they set aside their differences to stop the Prophet, and in doing so, will they find the love they lost?

From the streets of Boston to the wilds of Alaska, this thrilling conclusion to the Harvester Series takes several turns you won’t see coming!

BUY NOWby Susanne Matthews

Romantic Suspense
Sensuality Level: Sensual

Author Bio:
A former high school teacher, Susanne Matthews lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, the inspiration for all her heroes. When she’s not writing, she enjoys camping in summer and romantic getaways in winter. Find Susanne Matthews at: www.mhsusannematthews.ca/, on Facebook, and on Twitter @jandsmatt.

 

An excerpt from The White Iris:

Stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders, Dr. E.J. Swift, Julie to friends and family, eased her stiff muscles. As a virologist, she studied pathogens that invaded the body, altering cells, sometimes for only a few days but at others for a lifetime. Curing a viral disease was good; eliminating and preventing it, even better.

Leaning back in her office chair, she released the clip that held up her long, auburn hair and ran her hands through the messy, tumbling curls, rubbing the sore spot at the back of her head.

I should get it all cut off. It spends more time yanked up and tied than down.

Reaching for the mouse, she scrolled to the top of the document she’d just finished, and sighed. This brief had taken forever to complete—not that it was complicated, but she felt unsettled today, the way she had when she’d suffered a case of the heebie-jeebies prior to those vicious Colorado snowstorms of her youth.

As if there’s a storm anywhere near here.

The last thing she should be doing this gorgeous late July afternoon was sitting in an office, writing an information brief on the effectiveness of last year’s flu vaccine, but her cousin Ellie was up to her elbows in virulent mosquitoes, and the prospect of an afternoon at the pool alone, waiting for Ellie to finish for the day, didn’t appeal. Julie had gone up there on Wednesday night, and the newest creep in 3B had hit on her endlessly. That apartment belonged to some export company, and the tenants changed regularly—all of them the same basic version of jerk. When she’d finally told him she wasn’t interested, the muscle-bound asshole had made a nasty comment before moving on to the new woman in 4C.

And she’s welcome to him.

It wasn’t that Bozo-Bob wasn’t attractive. Julie simply wasn’t interested. He reminded her too much of Trevor, her ex-fiancé who’d trampled her heart to bits.

Face it, girl. Everyone reminds you of Trevor.

In the two years since their breakup, they hadn’t spoken, not even after she’d returned the sapphire engagement ring he’d given her and asked him to contact her so they could discuss what had gone wrong between them. He’d signed for the package, but he hadn’t called.

Trevor knew she needed to compartmentalize—talk things to death, as he put it—but that was just the way she was. If a new recipe for lasagna required a three-paragraph analysis and review, why wouldn’t a failed relationship? You needed to know what went wrong to avoid making the same mistake. Every good researcher knew that.

Hell, she couldn’t even bring herself to cut her damn hair without making a pros and cons list, shifting points from one side to the other, and evaluating everything in the light of her hypothesis. Everything was about process. If you did things in the proper order, you succeeded—if you didn’t, you failed.

Try as she might, she couldn’t close that chapter of her life, which was ridiculous because Trevor certainly had.