"A classic Silhouette Shadows contemporary gothic romance returns"
Lindsey Witherspoon had left disillusionment and the bustle
of D.C. behind to regroup in the quaint southern town of
Baton Bay. She was immediately taken with the picturesque
mansion, bordering the swamp, that would be her home for
the duration of her college roommate's European vacation.
But it was the swamp itself that the budding photographer
found irresistibly compelling. Her ex-fiancé had laughed at
his former secretary's dream of becoming a professional,
but his opinion had ceased to matter after she'd caught him
in bed with the woman she'd hired to replace herself in his
office. Now she had ample time to test her skill with her
He emerged from out of the swamp, in search of his only
friend. Instead he found a lovely stranger who could easily
become a threat to his wounded heart and his tenuous grip
on sanity. Everyone had warned Lindsey to avoid Royce
Blanchard. The warning was in the note that her friend had
left her, and in the voices of the townsfolk who called him
Swamp Man, and told stories about him to scare their
children. Even the man himself had warned her to stay away
from him. Rumor had it that the last woman who had gone
with him into the swamp had never returned, a fact that
he'd confirmed, hoping to drive Lindsey away. But the
torment in his moss green eyes told another story, one of
loss and intense suffering that pulled at her, and drew her
deeper and deeper into the swamp that she had come to love
nearly as much as the lonely madman that dwelled within it.
This is a dark, edgy tale of one man's battle with
life-long prejudice, which had become a private battle to
remain sane when his only hope for happiness was ripped
suddenly as it had been offered. Tense one minute, and
tender the next, Lindsay is never sure if he'd be her
salvation or her destruction. In the end the only thing
that matters is that she loves him.
Copyright © 2002
Reviewed by Leslie Tramposch
Posted July 28, 2002
There are none so blind as those who will not see. And
Lindsey Witherspoon, used to capturing the world with her
camera, to controlling the images that met her eyes,
refused to see that the swamp was beyond her control.
The swamp that spread so tantalizingly beyond her door,
beckoning with promises of beauty never yet captured on
film, was in truth a place of darkness, a place where a
woman had no business to walk alone, unprotected. Where the
paths themselves seemed to shift and shiver. Where a woman
who wasn't careful might find herself alone with...a man
like Royce Blanchard. A man who had warned her that his
last woman had come into the swamp...and died.