Lust, Loathing And A Little Lip Gloss

Lust, Loathing And A Little Lip Gloss
Автор книги: id книги: 1032497     Оценка: 0.0     Голосов: 0     Отзывы, комментарии: 0 469,73 руб.     (4,56$) Читать книгу Купить и скачать книгу Купить бумажную книгу Электронная книга Жанр: Историческая литература Правообладатель и/или издательство: HarperCollins Дата добавления в каталог КнигаЛит: Скачать фрагмент в формате   fb2   fb2.zip Возрастное ограничение: 0+ Оглавление Отрывок из книги

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Описание книги

Mystery writer and dabbling recreational sleuth Sophie Katz is head over heels in love–with a three-bedroom Victorian.She's just got to have it, despite a few drawbacks. Her slimy ex is the Realtor. The rich, creepy seller wants her to join San Francisco's spirited Specter Society. And her first tour of the house reveals, well, a lifeless body clutching a cameo with a disturbing history of its own.There's no way Sophie is going to give up the ghost on her dreams of stained glass and original woodwork, though–even when things become officially weird. A Society member is found with a slashed throat, and Sophie's house might as well be yelling, «GET…OUT!»She's hearing footsteps, lights are turning themselves off and her stuff keeps moving inexplicably. To top it off, boyfriend Anatoly thinks it's all in her head. Sophie is 99 percent sure her problems are caused by someone six feet tall instead of six feet under, but the only way to be sure is to track down the killer–before he pushes her kicking and screaming to the other side….

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Kyra Davis. Lust, Loathing And A Little Lip Gloss

Praise for the Sophie Katz novels of. KYRA DAVIS

KYRA DAVIS. LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

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Отрывок из книги

“Part romantic comedy and part mystery, with witty dialogue and enjoyable characters…the perfect summer read.”

—The Oregonian

.....

I turned my back to the body. Actually, this was a little too real for me, too. With shaky hands, I gathered up the photos I had stepped on. One Victorian room after another…a bedroom, a dining room…this bedroom, this dining room. These were pictures of the house as it once was. The furniture had been different, obviously, but not the placement. Oscar had rearranged his furniture to fit the images in these pictures. Even the table setting was similar. Mechanically, I turned back around.

“How did you die, Oscar?” I whispered. I reached over and tentatively touched the brooch in his hand. It was cold, colder than the dead hand holding it. The colorless depiction of the woman on the cameo was surely meant to be flattering, but to me her sharp chin and unseeing eyes appeared sinister. It was then that I became vaguely aware that I was frightened.

.....

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