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

by Steffanie Holmes

my resting bitchface is so legendary that sonnets have been composed in its honor.

“This is my chair. I claimed it first. Get your own snacks to sniff.”

Story of my life – Bree Mortimer, invisible even to ghosts.

“Walpurgis, stop that,” Agnes snaps. “You’re supposed to be a servant of Satan, not a gibbering pup.”

“I said that our Bree wouldn’t be caught dead singing Hey Nonny Nonny. You obviously became a harlot,”

“I hope you steered well clear of France,” Agnes says with a sniff. “French people live there.”