Eighth Grave After Dark (Charley Davidson, #8)

by Darynda Jones

“Are you free?” he asked. “No, but I’m on sale for a dollar ninety-nine.” He sighed, adding fuel to the fire. “Do you have a minute?” I patted my pockets. “Not on me, but I can go through the couch cushions.”

“If you do that math—” I gaped at him in horror. I had no idea there would be math involved. He ignored me.

ANXIETY GIRL! ABLE TO JUMP TO THE WRONG CONCLUSION IN A SINGLE BOUND. —T-SHIRT

APPLICANTS MUST PASS AN ORAL EXAM BEFORE ADVANCING TO THE NEXT COURSE. —NOVELTY UNDERWEAR

“Lover Awakened.” He nestled his head on my shoulder. “Weren’t you reading this book last month?” “No.” He raised a brow. “Yes. I can’t stop. I’ve read it twenty-seven times in a row.”

YESS ZSADIST