Dead Ringer, the Stranger in My Bed

Have you ever wondered if the person sharing the bed with you every night—the one you've been passionately tangled with—isn't actually who you married?

On our tenth wedding anniversary, Nathan pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling windows. His burning lips traced my collarbone, his calloused hands gentle yet commanding as they stole the breath from my lungs.

"Happy tenth anniversary, baby."

But my body wouldn't stop trembling, my stomach turning inside out.

Because just one hour ago, I had discovered something: the back of his neck bore no trace of Nathan Jarvis's signature maroon…