This romantic suspense takes you into the inner workings of NASCAR Racing, the largest sports draw in the US today. A determined female beauty decides that she wants to work on the pit crew of a famous race driver; a position formerly opened only to men; determination and ingenuity win out, and she is hired as a mechanic for a popular Nascar driver.

T.G. Cameron has always loved Max Schaffer, and the idea of actually working for him makes her the happiest girl in the world.  However, she gets too close to a deadly scheme to take out the top drivers each race; not caring whether they live or die, and these deliberate wrecks turn the world of racing upside down. She discovers indescribable passion in his arms, but she is afraid that it is not the lasting kind, and she will become just another notch on his bedpost.

When she gets too close to the killer, she and Max find themselves in the middle of the racing tragedies and barely escape with their own lives.

Sylvia A. Witmore has been an avid reader since grammar school, and all sorts of books appealed to her.  But in college, marjoring in Journalism, she changed her courses to creative writing and realized that murder and suspense was the way she wanted to go  She has been married to C.L Witmore since 1969, they have three sons who are married with children of their own.  She loves to travel with her husband and visit with family and grandchildren.  Look for her next book, TREACHEROUS HEARTS, also published by Authorhouse.

Pulling the car back out on the highway, T.G. drove north slowly, and her headlights moved over a dark car parked just ahead on the right side of the road.  She recognized the car as the one she'd seen the jogger run to the night she'd been unable to sleep and pulled in behind, leaving her engine idling for several, long agonizing minutes, pondering her options.  She waited.  No one moved in the car just in front of her.   After several minutes of calm vigilance, she realized that he wasn't going to come to her after all.

Switching off the ignition, she left both her purse and keys inside the car.  Slowly, she stepped outside, her hands digging into her pockets.  She lightly touched the two items she'd brought along for her protection, and just that simple gesture offered her some measure of comfort now.

She movd forward stiffly.  As she neared the car, she saw the figure sitting on the driver's side of the car.  Mechanically, she rounded the car on the right side, opening the passenger door.   When she did, the inside light flashed on overhead.  She recognized Hank Newton underneath the steering wheel, leering at her.

Resignedly, she turned to glance over at him cautiously.  Should have known it was him all along, she thought.  Angrily, she jerked forward, sliding into the seat beside him, determined to give him a piece of her mind.  "Damn you, Hank.  I told you to leave me alone."

He didn't respond when she snarled angrily at him.  He didn't answer her at all, and he didn't turn to look at her.  His mouth continued to hold its grimacing expression.  He didn't move.  She leaned over toward him, looking closely into his face.  Then and only then did she see the blood on the side of his head, which had previously been hidden by the rakish angle of his cap.  And that leering grin she'd first visualized would never change now.

Hank Newton was dead.

T.G.'s heart rose in her throat.

Finally, she gasped aloud, recoiling in horror.  She moved back to the door in one fluid motion, trying to get away  from him as fast as she could. 

Opening the door, she stumbled outside,  gulping cold crisp night air into her lungs, which were threatening to collapse.  Her terror was absolute.  Weak knees wobbled, endangering her balance, forcing her to hold on to the door to keep from falling to the ground.