You're So Dead to Me (Grimdale Graveyard Mysteries, #1)

by Steffanie Holmes

Don’t ask me how I know this – it’s a long story involving a naive teenage Bree and her imaginary childhood friends, and my cheeks grow hot just thinking about it. So I won’t think about it. Especially not since I… No. Not thinking about it.

Oooooo what you do??

“I hope you steered well clear of France,” Agnes says with a sniff. “French people live there.” I decide not to tell her about the six blissful weeks I spent working in a vineyard eating my body weight in cheese and fucking the village baker under the vines every night.

Their favorite joke was to only refer to me by the names of different cheeses. Get it, because I’m called Bree? Hilarious. John Cleese is taking notes.

John Cleese wouldn't stoop that low

The Addams Family would be right at home at Grimwood with its stone turrets, gothic mullioned windows, trailing ivy, carved wooden staircase, heavy oak beams, and secret passages.

If your manor doesn't have secret passages you're doing it wrong

You try growing up in a creepy manor next to a graveyard with the ability to see dead people and not get attracted to heavy metal and emo boys with eyeliner. It’s impossible.

The dream

Pax immediately plops down beside me, folding his legs so that his short tunic flaps open and gives me a rather unpleasant view of his monstrous Roman tackle.

His wot??

Pax sits with Mike and Sylvie every evening to watch the Great British Bake Off, and no one bats an eyelid when he starts yelling about Deborah using Howard’s custard instead of her own.

I remember that episode xD

“By Jupiter’s gnarly gonads, if you’ve spoiled her virtue with your ghost verpa I will mince it and feed it to Entwhistle and then you’ll never get it back⁠—”

Immediately, an older American wearing a stars-and-stripes t-shirt and white socks with sandals starts peppering me with questions about military graves. “I don’t like all this namby-pamby poet nonsense,” he says. “I want to hear about guns and wars!”

I hate how stereotypical yet accurate this is xD

THE WORLD IS A BOOK, AND THOSE WHO DO NOT TRAVEL READ ONLY A PAGE.

“Who’s she talking to?” the wife turns to her husband.

Oh no has he died?

“If a murderer is loose, you must go home immediately. As your prince, I order you to go straight to your bedroom, lock the doors, put on a really skimpy nightdress, and await my next instructions.”

The skimpy nightdress is imperative to your safety

The drink warms my stomach and fortifies me. No wonder Britain has gone to war over tea – it’s magic in a cup.

I leave the ghosts in the guest lounge on the second floor, take a quick shower, pull on a black sleeveless shirt and patterned wrap skirt I ought in Bali, and head downtown to meet Dani with a see-through Roman soldier marching at my heels.

How many rounds of editing do these books make it through to still have typos

Dani’s mum had her when she was sixteen, and they’re more like best friends than mother and daughter.

I’m all about healthy coping mechanisms like completely ignoring my feelings and running away from my problems. I should write a self-help book.

“Dani invited me. The front door was open. I should have known better than to accept an invitation to Grimwood. I mean, who serves mushy peas with ice cream? This is a culinary hellscape.” Alice’s eyes flick to me. “I’ve been here for five minutes trying to get your attention, but you’ve been too busy talking to your imaginary friends about Albert Fernsby’s murder, like you’re some kind of psychic detective.”

Bully Alice is Dani's date?!

Why did you invite Alice?” “Because you said I could bring a date.” “You’re dating Alice?”

Ok but like you could have warned her or shown up together

“This place smells amazing.” Ambrose follows behind me, sniffing every shelf. “Like knowledge and academic rigor, and quiet nights beside the fire…”

Mina covers her hand with her mouth, but I can see the laughter in her eyes.

I think that phrase might be backwards

Or maybe we procure one for Brianna and we can all watch⁠—”

EDWARD!

“This stone will amplify your powers, and enable you to reach even further beyond the veil.”

Like allowing you to bang ghosts?

Dad’s trapped inside himself. He can’t make his body do things it should do, and he’s aware of every moment that’s lost.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “I have something in my eye.” “You do,” he nods in agreement. “You have sadness. But I will find a way to make it better.”

“That’s what you get for messing with Buffalo Crumperbunts!” “His name is Benedict Cumberbatch,” I say. Pax’s smile grows wide with mischief. “Bumblesnuff Crimpysnitch.”

One of my favorite running jokes of all time is the bastardizations of his name

Bonkyhort Cuttlefish

Bendynoodle Custardbath.”

The dirty looks of the other patrons burn into my back, and a guy two rows behind me hisses, “Will you kindly be quiet?” Which is British for “fuck off and die.”

Butterscotch Cutiebrunch

He’s managed to pull the popcorn container into his lap, but he doesn’t try to eat it – he simply cradles it awkwardly the way a person who hates cats does when a cat sits on their lap. See? Ambrose isn’t thinking about jumping your bones. You’re imagining all of this fire and sizzle.

Or hes using the bucket to hide a boner

Birdiebeak Cribblysnitch,”

Ambrose is deep in conversation with the ghost of a black-cloaked man wearing a white mask that obscures half his face.

Having a chat with the Phantom of the Opera