To Catch A Thief

Enjoy Savannah!

Nan Dixon

Contents

Cover (#u1e87b893-15ed-5a20-b4ef-51a8e4166190)

Back Cover Text (#u08eb2c67-4de2-57a2-87f3-4f926bc3e3cf)

About the Author (#ud52249d8-c3ae-54ff-8ca2-a92c72e9cf24)

Booklist (#ucf9a0a74-63fc-54e7-b1b4-c8222c8ff95c)

Title Page (#ua37845af-81a2-5cf3-b187-076a60453099)

Copyright (#u108406d3-5ab0-57d3-84f6-38913fa5b8dd)

Dedication (#u21ab2e52-2fb7-5d07-9a72-f61a7f8f1461)

Introduction (#ue921a3c9-d6e9-5f69-8edf-d51e2589a56e)

Dear Reader (#u5a62a5e8-7c3a-528a-a9f1-d913ebb2a27c)

CHAPTER ONE (#u92de664a-6b1b-51db-bf8d-ce099c5473a2)

CHAPTER TWO (#u5e7cb548-168f-58e0-acf2-21537516e013)

CHAPTER THREE (#uf05f012d-bca5-55d8-ac5c-fe885f0b98bc)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u4e45c83d-6215-5180-afab-c482829d4081)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u94547d23-e6e0-5ad5-a599-138648085a67)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u597cc4e6-21d7-52f9-a16c-94120d461ee3)

CAROLINA INHALED, CLOSED her eyes and poured her heart into the last eight measures of music. “Baby, baby, I’m in love with you.”

She held the note, riding the vowel. Let it crescendo with the piano.

Applause thundered through the room. People in the back stood.

Raising both arms, she finished with a flourish.

The adulation washed over her. Tonight was her best performance—ever. Each note, each phrase, had emerged exactly how she’d imagined and practiced.

Perfect timing. Her business manager, Gar, sat near the stage, two record producers at the table with him. Gar gave her a thumbs-up, making her smile.

“Good night. You’ve been a great audience.” She waved and left the stage.

In the wings, she grabbed her water, glugging down half the bottle. Then she snatched a towel and wiped under her arms. Good Lord, she hoped the audience hadn’t noticed the sweat. Between the stage lights, August in Nashville and the bar’s half-hearted air-conditioning, she’d worried she would drown in a puddle of perspiration.

“Incredible! You got a standing O!” Ella, her accompanist, pushed into the small backstage and hugged her.

“I’m soaking wet,” Carolina complained. But she hugged Ella right back.

“Stars don’t sweat, they glow.” Ella pulled away, grinning. “Now, say thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“I pretended to straighten sheet music so I could eavesdrop on Doofus and the record producers. They loved your voice. Loved you.”

“Don’t call Gar a doofus.” Carolina bit her lip to contain her grin and sneaked a peek at the audience through the wings. “They really loved it?”

“Oh, honey, yes. And Gar is a doofus.” Ella pulled a water bottle from her bag. “He’s lucky to have you as his talent.”

“He did get the producers here tonight.” Carolina headed to the closet that served as her dressing room. Or maybe it was a dressing room that doubled as a closet. “I was nervous. Thanks for covering when I missed my cue.”

“No problem.” Ella settled on a barstool tucked back with the buckets and mops. “You have to take me with you when you rocket to the top of the charts.”

“If I have anything to say, we’ll do this together.” She’d never worked with a pianist as talented as Ella. When Carolina first moved to Nashville, they’d found each other through a roommate ad. Now Ella was her best friend.