I’d always avoided Fox’s novels due to their awful covers and her stripper-like name, which I assumed was a unfortunate choice of pseudonym. How wrong I was. Candice Fox is the real name of a spectacularly good writer who deserves far better covers. The protagonist in this one is a likeable cop whose life has been utterly destroyed by the false accusation that he abducted and raped a thirteen year old girl. Never tried in court but living under a poison cloud of suspicion, he flees to northern Queensland and meets Amanda, one of my all time favourite kooky fictional characters. I loved this book and look forward to reading more of Fox’s. This has been an important reminder that you can usually judge a book by its cover, but not always.
