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Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

Cover of Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

Charley Davidson Series, Book 4
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Welcome to the world of grim reaper extraordinaire, Charley Davidson. Try as she might, there's no avoiding her destiny.

Sometimes being the grim reaper really is, well, grim. And since Charley's last case went so awry, she has taken a couple of months off to wallow in the wonders of self-pity. But when a woman shows up on her doorstep convinced someone is trying to kill her, Charley has to force herself to rise above . . . or at least get dressed. It becomes clear something is amiss when everyone the woman knows swears she's insane. But the more they refute the woman's story, the more Charley believes it.

In the meantime, the sexy, sultry son of Satan, Reyes Farrow, is out of prison and out of Charley's life, as per her wishes and several perfectly timed death threats. But his absence has put a serious crimp in her sex life. While there are other things to consider, like the fact that the city of Albuquerque has been taken hostage by an arsonist, Charley is having a difficult time staying away. Especially when it looks like Reyes may be involved.

Just when life was returning to normal, Charley is thrust back into the world of crime, punishment, and the devil in blue jeans in this hilarious fourth installment in the New York Times bestselling series from Darynda Jones. .

Welcome to the world of grim reaper extraordinaire, Charley Davidson. Try as she might, there's no avoiding her destiny.

Sometimes being the grim reaper really is, well, grim. And since Charley's last case went so awry, she has taken a couple of months off to wallow in the wonders of self-pity. But when a woman shows up on her doorstep convinced someone is trying to kill her, Charley has to force herself to rise above . . . or at least get dressed. It becomes clear something is amiss when everyone the woman knows swears she's insane. But the more they refute the woman's story, the more Charley believes it.

In the meantime, the sexy, sultry son of Satan, Reyes Farrow, is out of prison and out of Charley's life, as per her wishes and several perfectly timed death threats. But his absence has put a serious crimp in her sex life. While there are other things to consider, like the fact that the city of Albuquerque has been taken hostage by an arsonist, Charley is having a difficult time staying away. Especially when it looks like Reyes may be involved.

Just when life was returning to normal, Charley is thrust back into the world of crime, punishment, and the devil in blue jeans in this hilarious fourth installment in the New York Times bestselling series from Darynda Jones. .

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Excerpts-
  • Copyright © 2012 by Darynda Jones

    1


    Only two things in life are certain.
    Guess which one I am.
    —CHARLEY DAVIDSON, GRIM REAPER
    I sat watching the Buy From Home Channel with my dead aunt Lillian and wondered what my life would've been like had I not just eaten an entire carton of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Therapy with a mocha latte chaser. Probably about the same, but it was something to think about.
    A midmorning sun filtered through the blinds and cut hard streaks of light across my body, casting me in an ultra-cool film noir effect. Since my life had definitely taken a turn toward the dark side, film noir fit. It would have fit even better if I weren't wearing Star Wars pajama bottoms and a sparkly tank top that proudly proclaimed EARTH GIRLS ARE EASY. But I just didn't have the energy that morning to change into something less inappropriate. I'd been having lethargy issues for a few weeks now. And I was suddenly a tad agoraphobic. Ever since a man named Earl tortured me.
    It sucked.
    The torture. Not his name.
    My name, on the other hand, was Charlotte Davidson, but most people called me Charley.
    "Can I talk to you, pumpkin cheeks?"
    Or pumpkin cheeks, one of the many pet names involving the fall fruit that Aunt Lillian insisted on calling me. Aunt Lil had died sometime in the sixties, and I could see her because I'd been born the grim reaper, which basically meant three things: One, I could interact with dead people—those departed who didn't cross over when they died—and usually did so on a daily basis. Two, I was super-duper bright to those in the spiritual realm, and the aforementioned dead people could see me from anywhere in the world. When they were ready to cross, they could cross through me. Which brought me to three—I was a portal from the earthly plane to what many refer to as heaven.
    There was a tad more to it than that—including things I had yet to learn myself—but that was the basic gist of my day job. The one I didn't actually get paid to do. I was also a PI, but that gig wasn't paying the bills either. Not lately, anyway.
    I rolled my head along the back of the sofa toward Aunt Lil, who was actually a great-aunt on my father's side. A thin, elderly woman with soft gray eyes and pale blue hair, she was wearing her usual attire, as dead people rarely changed clothes: a leather vest over a floral muumuu and love beads, the ensemble a testament to her demise in the sixties. She also had a loving smile that tilted a bit south of kilter. But that only made me adore her all the more. I had a soft spot for crazy people. I wasn't sure how the muumuu came into play, with her being so tiny and all—she looked like a pole with a collapsed tent gathered about her fragile hips—but who was I to judge?
    "You can absolutely talk to me, Aunt Lil." I tried to straighten but couldn't get past the realization that movement of any kind would take effort. I'd been sitting on one sofa or another for two months, recovering from the torture thing. Then I remembered that the cookware I'd been waiting for all morning was up next. Surely Aunt Lil would understand. Before she could say anything, I raised a finger to put her in pause mode. "But can our talk wait until the stone-coated cookware is over? I've been eyeing this cookware for a while now. And it's coated. With stone."
    "You don't cook."
    She had a point. "So what's up?" I propped my bunny-slippered feet on the coffee table and crossed my legs at the ankles.
    "I'm not sure how to tell you this." Her breath hitched, and she bowed her blue head.
    I straightened in alarm despite the energy it took. "Aunt Lil?"
    She tucked her chin in...

About the Author-
  • Winner of the Golden Heart® for Best Paranormal Romance for her manuscript First Grave on the Right, DARYNDA JONES can't remember a time when she wasn't putting pen to paper. Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of more than twenty-five years and two beautiful sons, aka the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys.

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    St. Martin's Press
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Charley Davidson Series, Book 4
Darynda Jones
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