Now or Never

The murderer took his time choosing his pretty victims.  Then he took his time killing them.  What was left when he finished made even veteran Boston cop Harry Jordan feel sick.  But this time the killer made a mistake.  His victim was found alive.

Armed with a police sketch of the man, Harry wanted national publicity, the kind he could get from Mallory Malone, the "TV detective."  Her top-rated show reenacted heinous crimes and often jogged witnesses' memories enough to shake loose the clue that could break the case.  

But not this time.

This case was different for self-made career woman Mallory Malone.  This cop was different.  The case scared her; the cop was falling in love with her.  Her instincts told her to run.  But the killer already knew her name.  Her address.  And a secret that could destroy them both.

Elizabeth Adler was born in Yorkshire, England.  She is married to an American lawyer and has one daughter.  They have lived in Brazil, England, France, and Ireland and currently live in California.  She is the internationally acclaimed author of Léonie, Peach, The Rich Shall Inherit, The Property of a Lady, Fortune Is a Woman, and The Secret of the Villa Mimosa.

She can keep the doors locked.  The lights on.  Her fingers crossed.   But she can't stop the memories of a terrifying crime.  Or keep it from happening again.

The murderer took his time choosing his pretty victims.  Then he took his time killing them.  What was left when he finished made even veteran Boston cop Harry Jordan feel sick.  But this time the killer made a mistake.  His victim was found alive.

Armed with a police sketch of the man, Harry wanted national publicity, the kind he could get from Mallory Malone, the "TV detective."  Her top-rated show reenacted heinous crimes and often jogged witnesses' memories enough to shake loose the clue that could break the case.  

But not this time.

This case was different for self-made career woman Mallory Malone.  This cop was different.  The case scared her; the cop was falling in love with her.  Her instincts told her to run.  But the killer already knew her name.  Her address.  And a secret that could destroy them both.

Elizabeth Adler was born in Yorkshire, England.  She is married to an American lawyer and has one daughter.  They have lived in Brazil, England, France, and Ireland and currently live in California.  She is the internationally acclaimed author of Léonie, Peach, The Rich Shall Inherit, The Property of a Lady, Fortune Is a Woman, and The Secret of the Villa Mimosa.

From the Paperback edition.

Publishers Weekly

Things haven't been going well for 40-year-old Boston homicide detective Harry Jordan. The other cops call him "Prof" because of his Harvard law degree (though they seem more impressed with his football career at Michigan State), but neither his fancy education nor his fat trust fund has been a speck of help to him over the past year as he has labored to catch a serial killer. With the death of a third victim, a co-ed at Boston University, Harry decides to enlist the aid of investigative reporter Mallory "Mal" Malone, known to her fans as "the TV detective." Their partnership gets off to a prickly start, though Mal is charmed by Harry's malamute, Squeeze. But, before long, Mal and Harry are sparking instead of sparring, even as Mal dreads that Harry will unearth the demons from her own disturbed past. Adler supplies a predictably sordid serial-killer plot, including a simplistic scenario that roots the killer's need to savagely rape and kill women in his sexual abuse by his fat, repulsive mother. (The creep even raises his glass to his mother's photo: "To the mother. Who made all this possible.") Soon, however, the murders recede to become mostly a grisly backdrop for romance. Although her principals (particularly Squeeze) are likable enough, Adler (The Secret of the Villa Mimosa) relies on clichs (the killer stares fixedly "like a deer caught in the headlights") and writes in stereotypes. She does well enough with romance. It's only when she endeavors to mix guns with her roses that she ends up firing blanks. (Mar.)