by Natasha Deen
For seventeen-year-old Maggie Johnson, transitioning the dead isn’t hard. What’s tough is surviving the insults and pranks of Serge Popov, high school thug and the dumbest jock to ever set foot in Dead Falls, Alberta. When she finds him dead from alcohol poisoning and later discovers his spirit trapped in her room, she figures it’s a case of divine justice. Let the jerk rot. But someone—or something—has a different agenda. If Maggie doesn’t help Serge cross over, she’ll die at the hands of the otherworldly entity that’s taken an interest in the deceased bully. As she digs into the circumstances of Serge’s death, now classified a murder, she’ll uncover the secrets hidden by the world of the living and the wonders revealed by cities of the dead—if her investigation doesn’t kill her, first.
Really great book from the first page to the end. Excellent character development. Plot that moves the story along nicely and keeps you engaged and wanting more . Full of suspense, drama, and dysfunction that you love. This is one of those rare books you want to pick up and read again and again over the years .
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I hated the guy, but I was sorry he was dead. Seventeen is young to off yourself. And I was super creeped out that he’d decided to do it in my car. But that was Serge. He always had to be the last to give you the finger—even from the grave. I flipped my cell around and phoned my dad.
He picked up on the third ring. “Hey, baby girl, what is it?”
The sound of his voice—soft and gentle—soothed me. My whole life, it’s never been anything but me and my dad, which made us both seriously over-protective of each other.
I went for a casual tone and said, “Hey, Dad, I got a problem here.”
Through the phone lines, I felt him stiffen.
“Yeah?” There was an edge to his voice, like he was ready to put on a military uniform and turn our beat-up minivan into a Sherman tank.
“Nothing like that—well, a bit like—Dad, Serge’s body’s in my trunk.”
There was a stunned pause, “Maggie, what did you do?”
Okay, maybe I deserved that. One day, I’d live down the sausage incident but right now, I was staring at the cadaver of my six-foot-three-inch tormentor. It didn’t seem like the time to argue over the past. “He killed himself…in my car.”
There was a worried, processing silence on the other end.
“I think I know a dead body when I see it.”
“No, I mean about him killing himself. You sure someone didn’t dump him in your car?”
Well, thanks a lot daddio. That just added a whole new level of creep-me-out to the October night.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Award-winning author Natasha Deen has written everything from fantasy to comedy, mystery and horror, and she was the 2013 Regional Writer in Residence for the Metro Edmonton Library Federation. When not working on her manuscripts, she inhales disgusting amounts of chocolate and wrestles her furry children for a spot on the couch. Visit her at www.natashadeen.com.