By Susan McBride
Renegade wealthy woman Andy Kendricks is not the belle of any Dallas ball—and that is simply the way in which the debutante dropout likes it! She's acquired an excellent lifestyles and a good guy: her safety legal professional boyfriend, Brian Malone. Brian's this type of directly arrow that he needed to be dragged kicking and screaming to a detailed friend's bachelor occasion at a sleazy neighborhood "gentleman's club." So why is the groom-to-be announcing that Brian left the bacchanal arm-in-arm with "the most well liked physique within the Lone famous person State?" And what used to be that scorching physique doing stone-cold useless within the trunk of Brian's motor vehicle? And the place is Brian besides? The police officers are searhing for Andy's allegedly unfaithful/possibly homicidal beau who hasn't been visible because the celebration. yet Andy cannot think her upstanding lover is a murdering idiot, and she's decided to end up it—though she may possibly turn out with much more damaged than simply her center.
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Extra info for Night of the Living Deb (Debutante Dropout Mysteries, No. 4)
Sample text
Well, crap. Trapped by my own words. There was nothing more I hated than Mother being right. Maybe it was appropriate that it was brunchtime, since I clearly had egg on my face. It was as if I were possessed, not my usual nonconformist self. I was acting like all those tight-assed, judgmental, disapproving heiresses I’d gone to prep school with and had sworn I would never resemble. And just last night I’d had my legs wrapped around the neck of a male stripper. Holy cow, I was a hypocrite. I had no cause telling my mother what to do any more than she was justified in directing my behavior.
Kiss kiss,” she cooed, before I heard that telltale sound of her hanging up. I sat stunned, phone still clutched to my ear, the dial tone humming tunelessly until I set the handset back in its cradle and stared into space, numbed by what I imagined. Had Stephen proposed to my mother? They’d only been dating for a month. But then, they were both in their sixties. Maybe they figured they didn’t have a moment to lose. No matter that I liked the guy, in what little time I’d spent around him, the mere idea of Cissy remarried to anyone unsettled me.
Her rosy-cheeked exuberance of moments before disappeared as fast as the sun behind a 34 Susan McBride storm cloud. She gently shook her head, dropping her hands into her lap. ” How was I supposed to respond to that? She wasn’t finished. “I honestly imagined you’d be happy for me. ” “But I meant . ” The protest died on the vine. Because I’d meant me, not her. Well, crap. Trapped by my own words. There was nothing more I hated than Mother being right. Maybe it was appropriate that it was brunchtime, since I clearly had egg on my face.