Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet (Charley Davidson Series)
Darynda Jones
Language: English
Pages: 320
ISBN: 1250014468
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Welcome to the world of grim reaper extraordinaire, Charley Davidson. Try as she might, there's no avoiding her destiny.
Sometimes being the grim reaper really is, well, grim. And since Charley's last case went so awry, she has taken a couple of months off to wallow in the wonders of self-pity. But when a woman shows up on her doorstep convinced someone is trying to kill her, Charley has to force herself to rise above . . . or at least get dressed. It becomes clear something is amiss when everyone the woman knows swears she's insane. But the more they refute the woman's story, the more Charley believes it.
In the meantime, the sexy, sultry son of Satan, Reyes Farrow, is out of prison and out of Charley's life, as per her wishes and several perfectly timed death threats. But his absence has put a serious crimp in her sex life. While there are other things to consider, like the fact that the city of Albuquerque has been taken hostage by an arsonist, Charley is having a difficult time staying away. Especially when it looks like Reyes may be involved.
Just when life was returning to normal, Charley is thrust back into the world of crime, punishment, and the devil in blue jeans in this hilarious fourth installment in the New York Times bestselling series from Darynda Jones. .
With Silent Screams (Hellequin Chronicles, Book 3)
A Tale Of Two Goblins (Dulcie O'Neil, Book 2)
The Winter Long (October Daye, Book 8)
anchor was talking about the recent rash of bank robberies. He showed surveillance footage of the four-man team, known as the Gentlemen Thieves. They always wore white rubber masks and carried guns, but they never drew them. Not once in the series of eight bank robberies, thus their title. I was in the middle of contemplating how familiar they looked when Cookie took hold of my wrist and hefted me off her sofa. “I can do that,” she said as she nudged me toward the door. “How?” “Simple. I
bowed his head in that sweet, shy way of his. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” “Wait,” he said, suddenly worried. “Do nuns eat bacon? I really like bacon.” Sister Mary Elizabeth tapped his arm to get his attention, then signed, “I love bacon. I’ll make some for breakfast, okay?” He nodded, then let the sisters, thrilled with the prospect of protecting him, usher him out to show him the living quarters where he could bathe and get a fresh change of clothes. He seemed relaxed and grateful, which made
Gemma was right. I had a disorder. I’d have to see if there was an OTC I could use. Like a salve. Or a medicated powder. I was so into my musings that it took me a while to sense the darkness sitting nearby. So close, I could taste it on my tongue. The raw acidity of rotten eggs filled my mouth and nostrils until my stomach heaved in reflex. I fought the feeling and looked to the side toward a man staring at me in a tweed suit and tan fedora. He had his legs and hands crossed and looked like he
one hand from meandering back to my ass. He pulled me closer—chair and all—then let his hand slide up to Will, to measure her weight in his palm, to test her peak with his thumb. “D, what the fuck?” With great reluctance, he pulled away from me. His lids were still closed when he yelled, “I’m coming, damn it!” Then he focused on me once again. “Not literally, unfortunately.” He brushed a thumb over my mouth again. “You are so very special, Charley. I will be back.” Without another word, he
a knitting needle.” “Okay.” “Or even pushed down some stairs.” “Right, I got it. Thanks.” “Or you might be shot in the head with a gun.” “Rocket! I’m good. Seriously, no more elaboration needed.” But he grabbed my arm, and all the innocence drained from his face. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He knew too much. Had seen too much. “Or,” he said, his voice taking on an eerie depth, “you could be killed by the one you love most. Along with everyone else.” Well, that sucked more ass than
