In the deep blue ocean lives an ancient predator…
Dr. Grace Mann knows great white sharks. As the daughter of an obsessed shark researcher based at the Farallon Islands, Grace spent her childhood in the company of these elegant and massive creatures. When a photo of her freediving with a great white goes viral, the institute where she works seeks to capitalize on her new-found fame by producing a documentary about her work.
Underwater filmmaker Alec Galloway admires Dr. Mann and jumps at the opportunity to create a film showcasing the pretty biologist. As he heads to Guadalupe Island in Baja California Sur for a three-week expedition, it’s clear that his fan-boy crush on Grace is turning into something more serious. But even more pressing—Grace’s passionate focus on the sharks just might get her killed.
How about another excerpt?
“I’ve only had one ex who drew blood,” Alec said. “How’d you
get the bite?”
The waitress reappeared with two more tall beakers of beer.
She also set a basket of wings on the table. “It’s from John.”
“Thank you,” Grace said, a hungry glint in her gaze as she
looked at the food.
The waitress grabbed the previous glasses, now empty, then
left them alone once again. Grace unrolled her napkin and removed the
silverware tucked inside, then pushed the edge of the white cloth into the
neckline of her dress. She grabbed a wing, dipped it into the accompanying cup
of ranch dressing, and ate like a ravenous teenage boy.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Alec said.
“What do you mean?” Barbecue sauce smeared her upper lip.
“I’ll buy you dinner if you’re hungry.”
“This isn’t a date, Galloway.”
No, it wasn’t. “Got it,” he said, annoyed by the sting of
her comment.
Apparently with Dr. Mann it was two steps forward and one
step back. He snatched a wing since she was already on her second one. At the
rate she was going, he’d be lucky to get another.
“So?” he prompted, biting into the spicy meat. “The scar?”
“Right. It was a great white.”
“But you said you only freedived that one time in the
presence of a white.”
She dropped a carcass of bones back into the basket and
licked her fingers. “It happened when I was a kid. My dad spent several months
each year stationed at the Farallon Islands researching the whites.” She
removed the napkin at her neck, wiped her mouth, then her hands. “Once Chloe
and I were old enough, he’d bring us along for a week or two at a time.” She
laughed. “My mom hated it. She didn’t think it was safe. My dad and I agreed
never to tell her how bad it was when I got bit, but Chloe eventually spilled
it. After that, Mom threatened to never let us go again, but Dad eventually
wore her down.”
Alec stared at her, slack-jawed. The Farallones—a collection
of granite peaks jutting from the Pacific Ocean and known as the Devil’s
Teeth—were just a hop, skip, and a jump from San Francisco Bay. The water was
undeniably cold year-round, not to mention murky, and the weather was hell most
of the time. “You got in the water around the Farallones?” he uttered in
stunned disbelief. “When you were a kid?”
She’d finally wiped most of the wing sauce from her
appendages, although a faint smear still rested on her cheek. When she looked
at him again, she paused, noticing his shock. “It wasn’t on purpose. I was out
with Dad on the small outboard he used to visit shark attacks on the seals when
the love of his life bumped us. I was perched on the gunwale. It was entirely
bad luck.”
“No shit,” he choked out.
“I fell in, and a big beautiful sister sideswiped me,
ripping off my lifejacket like it was a piece of tissue. Her teeth grazed my
neck enough to slice it open, but thankfully it wasn’t a deep wound.”
“A sister?”
“It’s what the researchers call the large females, the
twenty-footers. There’s only ever been a handful of them documented over the
years. They generally travel alone and always dominate the feeding grounds.”
Her eyes went glassy. “There’s nothing like them anywhere on earth. They’re a
sight to behold.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve. Dad yanked me out before Bonnie came around for
another pass.”
Where had he heard that name before?
Recognition surfaced. “I think I know your shark.”
“Really?” Excitement animated her face.
Overcome with an urge to touch her, Alec grabbed his napkin
and wiped the sauce from her face. She immediately brushed her fingers across
both cheeks, attempting to find anything else left behind.
“You’re good,” he muttered, reluctantly withdrawing his
hand.
“Well?” she prompted, her complexion flush in a rosy glow.
But he knew it wasn’t for him. If he’d learned anything
about Grace Mann in the last day and a half, it was that it wasn’t just her
father who’d had a love affair with great whites—his daughter was head over
heels as well.
“I dived the Farallones once, and only once, two years ago.
Even now, it still makes my heart skip a beat and my palms sweat.”
Copyright © 2018 K. McCaffrey LLC
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Also available in print
And I've got a special treat for my newsletter subscribers - an exclusive novella not available anywhere else.
When shark researcher Grace Mann accompanies her boyfriend, underwater
filmmaker Alec Galloway, to Western Australia for a commercial shoot with great
whites, she envisions relaxing days in the sun and smoldering nights between
the sheets. But as Alec’s mood becomes increasingly distant, Grace worries that
maybe the chemistry they shared—so effortless in the beginning—was starting to
fizzle. Is his reticence related to her, or something else? And can she find a
way to help him get the footage he needs before his behavior places his life in
danger?
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