Darynda Jones

"Paranormal private eye. Grim reaper extraordinaire. Whatever. Charley Davidson is back! And she's drinking copious amounts of caffeine to stay awake because, every time she closes her eyes, she sees him: Reyes Farrow, the parthuman, part-supermodel son of Satan. Yes, she did imprison him for all eternity, but come on. How is she supposed to solve a missing persons case, deal with an ego-driven doctor, calm her curmudgeonly dad, and take on a motorcycle gang hellbent on murder when the devil's son just won't give up?"--

Third grave dead ahead

Silvia

Gemma was a psychiatrist, which meant she could take care of everybody’s problems but her own, just one of a dozen ways we were alike. But our looks was not one of them. While I had dark hair and gold eyes, she was the classic blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty that set men’s hearts aflutter. I could set men’s hearts aflutter, too, but I owed my success to mad skill. The things I could do with my mouth.

“Oh, your uncle called. He said he needs you to unclog his drain or something. Have you already found a new profession?”

I snorted, then mentally repossessed that snort and replaced it with an epiphany. “You know what? That’s not a bad idea. How would you feel about us becoming plumbers? I have a nice crack.”

While Garrett’s list of the top five things you never want to say to the grim reaper was interesting, I had a better list for him. A to-do list. Vacuum. Clean out my fridge. Do the dishes in his underwear. Though why he would have dishes in his underwear was beyond me.

Third grave dead ahead quotes

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