By Janet Evanovich
There is by no means a lifeless second for the citizens of Beaumont, South Carolina. in recent years, a warmth wave's spiked the mercury-and everyone's intercourse force! nowadays, while Jamie runs into Max, it is all she will be able to don't to rip his outfits off-and the sensation is mutual. yet difficulty turns out to persist with Max like moths to a flame, and Jamie suspects he is all unsuitable for her. in the meantime, the underwear store is having a sale on safe to eat undies, whereas the bakery's promoting aphrodisiac-laced cakes and x-rated birthday truffles. Even Jamie's puppy, Fleas, is dodging passes from the amorous French poodle round the corner! but if a person starts off bumping off a number of the town's extra demanding electorate, all clues lead directly to the hot personals part in Jamie's newspaper. beautiful quickly, issues are becoming scorching and heavy, as Max and Jamie commence uncovering secrets-and undressing every one other...
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Fleas sat up and began to scratch. Lamar watched, an uneasy expression on his face. "Luanne wasn't very popular in this town," he went on, "what with her line of work. " Jamie shook her head as she continued staring at the ads. Her hands trembled. "It has to be business related, Lamar. I think this—" She paused and held up the section of newspaper. " "Could be. I've sealed her place of business, and we're planning a full investigation. Like I said, I don't want this ad stuff getting out. " He took it from her, refolded it, and stuffed it into his pocket.
Why, if a cold wind blew up your skirt—" "Oh, Lord, ya'll are not going to believe who is heading our way," Robyn said. Betty turned. "Oh, heavenly days, it's Agnes Aimsley and her grandson. " Jamie turned as Agnes, frail and white-haired, inched her way toward them. Her sneakers looked out of place with her prim dress. The man beside her, a twenty-something preppie type, had her arm tucked through his protectively. His brown hair was cropped short, and he wore oversized tortoiseshell glasses that had gone out of style long ago.
She asked. The woman didn't hesitate. "His name is Ronnie. He's from the spirit world. He doesn't have enough sense to know he's dead. " Jamie gripped the arms on her chair as chills raced up her spine. Time to bolt, she told herself. " She glanced back at the empty chair. "Yes, you heard me right, Ronnie, you are a redneck. " She looked at Jamie. "That's how he died. " Jamie glanced at the door. It would take her less than three seconds to reach it if she ran like hell. "Hey, I know it sounds crazy," Destiny said, "but that's the way it is.