"Blackstock''s intense and twisty story will please fans of her faith-grounded crime dramas." --Publishers WeeklyTerri Blackstock, the "queen of Christian suspense" (CBA Market) delivers a riveting story of the secrets and lies that are too close to home. One father was murdered. Another was convicted of his death. And all because their children fell in love.Nate Beckett has spent his life fighting wildfires instead of the lies and rumors that drove him from his Colorado hometown. His mother begs him to come back now that his father has been released from prison, but it isn''t until he''s sidelined by an injury that he''s forced to return and face his past. But that means facing Brenna too.Fourteen years ago, Nate was in love with the preacher''s daughter. When Pastor Strickland discovered Brenna had defied him to sneak out with Nate, the fight between the Pastor and Nate''s drunken dad was loud--and very public. The Pastor was found murdered later that night, and everyone accused Nate''s father, Roy, of the murder. When the church burned down not long after, people assumed Nate set the fire to get even for his father''s conviction. He let the rumors fly and left town without looking back.Brenna is stunned to learn that the man convicted of murdering her father has been pardoned. The events of that night set her life on a bad course, and now she''s fighting a brutal custody battle with her ex and his new wife where he''s using lies and his family''s money to sway the judge. Brenna is barely hanging on.As Nate and Brenna deal with the present--including new information about that fateful night and a wildfire that''s threatening their town--the past keeps igniting. Nate is the steady force Brenna has so desperately needed. But she''ll have to learn to trust him again first.New York Times bestselling author Terri Blackstock''s Smoke Screen is riveting suspense layered with family drama, second-chance romance, small-town secrets, and plenty of redemption and forgiveness. Perfect for fans of Colleen Coble or Tosca Lee.
