Denise Grover Swank

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About Denise Grover Swank
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became nomadic, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
You can find out more about Denise at www.denisegroverswank.com
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Titles By Denise Grover Swank
One wrongly accused man. Twenty-nine reasons for Rose to clear his name.
When Rose reports for Fenton County jury duty she figures she’s lucky to get out of a morning working at the DMV. Instead, despite a disastrous encounter with the new assistant district attorney, Mason Deveraux, she’s picked as a juror on a murder case. As the trial progresses, she realizes an ominous vision she had in the men’s restroom proves the defendant is innocent. And there’s not a cotton picking thing she can do about it.
Or is there?
As if things weren’t bad enough, Rose’s older sister Violet is going through a mid-life crisis. Violet insists that Rose stop seeing her sexy new boyfriend, Arkansas state detective Joe Simmons and date other men. Rose is done letting people boss her around, but she can’t commit to Joe either. Still, Rose isn’t about to let the best thing in her life slip away.
It all started when I saw myself dead.
For Rose Gardner, working at the DMV on a Friday afternoon is bad even before she sees a vision of herself dead. She’s had plenty of visions, usually boring ones like someone’s toilet’s overflowed, but she’s never seen one of herself before. When her overbearing momma winds up murdered on her sofa instead, two things are certain: There isn't enough hydrogen peroxide in the state of Arkansas to get that stain out, and Rose is the prime suspect.
Rose realizes she’s wasted twenty-four years of living and makes a list on the back of a Wal-Mart receipt: twenty-eight things she wants to accomplish before her vision comes true. She’s well on her way with the help of her next-door neighbor Joe, who has no trouble teaching Rose the rules of drinking, but won’t help with number fifteen-- do more with a man. Joe’s new to town, but it doesn’t take a vision for Rose to realize he’s got plenty of secrets of his own.
Somebody thinks Rose has something they want and they’ll do anything to get it. Her house is broken into, someone else she knows is murdered, and suddenly, dying a virgin in the Fenton County jail isn’t her biggest worry after all.
Maddie
In the last few months, my life has gone to crap. My uncle died. I gave up my life to move back to my hometown to take care of my ailing aunt. And oh…I unwittingly drove a guy to his murder. Not exactly a stellar restart.
But things just keep getting worse, because the sexy-as-hell, yet stick-up-his-butt homicide detective in charge of solving the case thinks I had something to do with it, and he won't leave me alone.
Even more concerning? It turns out the victim was one of the last people to see my mother alive before her unsolved murder eighteen years ago.
Noah
I left a big city police department for a fresh start in a smaller town. Less crime. Less murder. But three months later, I’ve been handed the murder investigation of the most hated man in town. The list of potential suspects is as long as Santa’s naughty list, but one name keeps popping up.
Maddie Baker.
She’s infuriating as hell, but is she a cold-blooded murderer? My instincts tell me no, yet I can’t exactly trust those. The last time I let myself presume someone was innocent, I ended up with a bullet wound and a broken heart.
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