Over Her Dead Body
Chapter One
What you see isn't always what you get.
The trouble with cliches is that they're so downright tedious, you
fail to pay any attention to the message they're meant to convey.
And sometimes you really should. I know because during a very hot
and muggy summer in New York City, that particular cliche jumped up
more than once and took a large, hard bite out of my butt.
On the initial occasion, before summer even started, I was an idiot
to have been blindsided. It was the last week in May and Cat Jones,
my boss at Gloss magazine, had invited me out to dinner. Now, there
was nothing inherently odd in Cat treating me to a meal-despite our
work arrangement, we'd always been friends in a weird sort of way.
But she'd suggested that we meet at six forty-five at a kind of
out-of-the-way place in the Village, and that's ... read full excerpt from Over Her Dead Body ebook
