Finding Us (Pine Valley Book 5)

By: Heather B. Moore


A police officer climbed out of the car and approached the shop. She hadn’t seen this officer before, but it wasn’t like she’d ever called the police station to report a crime either. His hair was short and dark, and his olive skin made him look like he spent a lot of time in the sun. He was well built, as if he spent his fair share of time in the gym—or maybe chasing bad guys. The cop’s dark uniform only emphasized his broad shoulders and the strength of his arms. He was handsome, aided in part by his chiseled jawline, full lips, and dark sunglasses.

Well, then.

Am I really checking out a cop?

She blamed it on the aforementioned romance novel she’d been reading that morning. The cop opened the door and strode in, glancing about. He looked as if he’d sprung right from those pages. But this wasn’t Adam Herrin from Beloved in Blue. Felicity blinked. Yep. The cop had stopped in front of her. She looked up. Yep. He was definitely the tall, dark, and handsome type. This close, she caught his clean spice scent. It was subtle, but Felicity liked subtle. He was also holding out his hand, waiting for her to shake it.

Was she supposed to shake a cop’s hand? She guessed if he was the one offering, it was okay.

“Hi, there,” the officer said, his warm hand enclosing over hers in a firm grip. “I’m Officer Russo. Are you Felicity Miner?”

“Yes.” It sounded like a croak.

Officer Russo released her hand and slid off his sunglasses.

“Oh.” Felicity breathed. The warm, brown eyes that connected with hers were striking. She didn’t know how to exactly describe their color—maybe hot-chocolate brown? The dark chocolate kind. With a dusting of cinnamon.





Officer Leo Russo had seen people in shock before; it came with the territory of police work. But he wasn’t quite sure that was how he’d describe the woman standing before him. Her green eyes had widened when he’d approached, and her handshake felt like she didn’t have a bone in her body. Limp spaghetti. Was she the type of person who was afraid of cops?

She’d given him a one-word answer, then clamped her lips shut. Pretty lips, if Leo was to notice that detail. In what he guessed was a nervous gesture, she adjusted her red-framed glasses. Normally, Leo wouldn’t have thought much about the color of a person’s glasses, but in this case, they matched her shirt. Exactly. She wore a dark red shirt with black stripes, topped by a black cardigan. Her red glasses also sported thin black stripes.

Huh. Interesting. Leo always noticed details—it was part of his job—but he’d never considered matching glasses to a shirt. He then wondered if Ms. Miner had other glasses she matched to other outfits, or if this was one of those extreme coincidences. Her brown hair had been pulled into a single braid, resting over her shoulder, and he guessed it would reach to the middle of her back if she wore it straight. She wore little makeup, which was kind of refreshing, because her natural beauty was stunning enough. Not that he was comparing her to anyone in particular, especially not his ex-girlfriend Janna Swenson—who’d broken up with him six months ago. She couldn’t go anywhere without spending an entire hour doing her makeup. No, he wasn’t going to compare Ms. Miner to Janna.

Because, although Ms. Miner was a pretty woman, Leo wasn’t dating. Or looking. Well, he couldn’t help but look at Ms. Miner because she was standing right in front of him. But, he’d get his job done and leave her to her job.

Speaking of his job . . . “Do you mind showing me where the theft took place?” Leo had only been inside the bookshop once, and that was at the grand opening about ten years ago. It had used to be a dry goods store until a chain grocery store opened up down the road.

Ms. Miner blinked. “Sure.” She turned and led the way to one of the rows of bookshelves.

The first thing he noticed were the security cameras. Good for Mr. Smithson. “You’ve got footage?”

Ms. Miner withdrew a cell phone from her pocket. “I’m sorry, but I missed the shot.”

He took the cell phone from her. “I meant the security cameras.” He pointed to one of them.

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Ms. Miner took the phone back, then tucked away a bit of hair that had come loose from her braid. Nervous habit?

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