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You're So Dead To Me - SIGNED hardcover luxe edition

You're So Dead To Me - SIGNED hardcover luxe edition

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Enjoy Steffanie Holmes' spicy #whychoose cozy fantasy as never before with these special limited-edition hardcovers!

Grimdale Graveyard Mysteries Book 1 - You're So Dead To Me

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What do you do when three hot, possessive ghosts want to jump your bones?

I’m Bree, and I see dead people.

Not all dead people. Only those with unfinished business. They’re everywhere – I’ll be eating my breakfast and a poisoned heiress glares over my Cheerios, and I can’t even enjoy the wilderness without being accosted by chattering ex-hikers who don’t understand which mushrooms are edible.

I’ve returned to my hometown of Grimdale to cat-sit for my parents while I plan my next move. I’m looking forward to raiding their fridge, hanging out with their two mischievous kittens, and staying far, far away from anything supernatural.

But I forgot that I’m never alone in Grimdale.

The three ghosts I used to play with as a kid are back in my life again. Only now I’m their age and they’re infuriatingly attractive.

There’s the slightly psychotic Roman soldier who loves the Great British Bake Off, the bossy, aristocratic royal prince who demands the finer things in life (er, death), and the blind Victorian gentleman adventurer who doesn’t have a mean bone in his body (or any bones, for that matter).

But my three ghoulish houseguests are the least of my problems. I’ve landed a job giving tours of the historic Grimdale Cemetery, and on my very first day, I stumble into a fresh corpse.

The dead guy’s ghost needs me to solve his murder so he can cross over, but sticking my nose into spirit business might see me to an early grave.

As for my three hauntingly hot friends? It turns out their unfinished business…is me.

You’re So Dead to Me is the first in a darkly humorous paranormal romance series by bestselling author Steffanie Holmes. If you love a sarcastic heroine, hot, possessive and slightly unhinged ghostly men, a mystery to solve, and a little kooky, spooky lovin’ to set your coffin a rockin’, then quit ghouling around and start reading!

Hardcover

396 pages

Dimensions

6.25 x 1.18 x 9.25 inches

ISBN

9781991099181

Publication date

2023

Hardcover luxe edition special features

Foiled cover

Sprayed edges

Ribbon bookmark

Illustrated chapter headings

Grimdale village map

Black and white art endpapers

Read a sample

Chapter 1

“Go on, dearie. Let me have a little sniff of that salty goodness.”

“No,” I snap under my breath as I snatch the pretzels from the tray table and stuff them in my pocket.

For your information, I’m not hanging out in the world’s grossest sex club. (That was two years ago in Amsterdam. My shoes stuck to the floor.) I’m sitting in my seat on a flight somewhere over the United Arab Emirates, minding my own business and trying to ignore the ghost of a blue-haired old biddy who is annoyingly fascinated by my airline snacks.

“Pleeeeease? Just hold the bag out so I can have a whiff.”

I glare at her before turning my body toward the window. Outside, the world is dark – the kind of deep, unsettling darkness that makes you remember you’re hurtling through space at a gazillion miles an hour with only a computer, a hopefully not drunk pilot, and the laws of physics standing between you and a fiery, dramatic death. We’re somewhere over the Middle East, but the cloud cover is so thick that it looks like we’re flying into a black hole.

Most people in the cabin are settling down to sleep, but I won’t get any peace as long as Chatty Cathy insists on a running commentary of my snacks.

“I know you can see me, dearie,” she sighs. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she hovers over the empty seat beside me. “My good friend the headless pilot told me all about you. Well, he didn’t tell me so much as gesticulated. He said your thighs were much bigger. You should eat more, put some meat on those bones – starting with those pretzels in your pocket.”

I groan. Stupid ghosts. They have no right to be gesticulating about the size of my thighs, which are perfectly fine as they are, thank you very much.

It figures that airplane ghosts talk to each other. There aren’t that many of them compared to, say, hospitals, old asylums, and Starbucks stores. They generally stick to the plane where they died but they can hop off at airports and float around in the terminals like some kind of spectral hen party, swapping gossip about their flights. The Headless Pilot and I had a run-in on my flight from Bali last year, and it was not a pleasant experience. I was on the loo, reading a smutty romance novel on my phone and enjoying hour three of absolutely no dead people when he stuck his torso through the bathroom door and shook his neck stub at me. I screamed bloody murder because that’s what you do when you have a see-through neck stub in your face, and the stewardess had to break down the door because she thought I was having some kind of fit. They didn’t believe my story about seeing a spider, and I’ve been banned from that airline for life.

Ghosts are nothing but trouble.

Usually, airplanes are one of the few places in the world where I’m blissfully free of ghosts for a while. Statistically, not that many people die on planes. It’s one of the reasons I decided to leave my small British village of Grimdale the moment I got my GCSE and embark on a backpacking trip around the world.

It wasn’t the most pressing motivation, but it definitely factored high on my ‘reasons to get as far from Grimdale as possible’ list. And now, after all this time, I’m heading back to Grimdale, a place I very much do not want to be, because of the terrible thing…

No. I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to think about that. If I burst into tears on this plane, Chatty Cathy will never let me hear the end of it.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

I open my eyes and see the reflection of a man in a business suit in the window. Ghosts don’t have reflections, so it’s a real live person talking to me. That doesn’t happen often – my resting bitchface is so legendary that sonnets have been composed in its honor.

I spin around. Businessman McArmaniPants flashes me an apologetic smile. He leans forward and puts his arm on the back of the seat, right through the old lady’s spectral head.

“Argh, watch where you’re putting those skinbags, you rotten oaf!” She jerks away, holding her head as she hops angrily down the aisle. She looks like a chicken with her bony elbows jerking wildly. I cough into my hand to cover my smirk.

Businessman McArmaniPants flashes me a megawatt smile.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I noticed that this seat is empty. I wondered if I could sit next to you – I’m near the back and a kid spilled his orange juice and now everything is sticky—”

“Sure.” I pat the seat, grateful for his presence. He’ll act as a buffer between me and the old lady ghost. “Please, make yourself at home. Stay as long as you like.”

“Do not make yourself at home!” Chatty Cathy huffs, glaring at the man as he lowers himself into her seat. “This is my chair. I claimed it first. Get your own snacks to sniff.”

“Do you want some pretzels?” I crack open the bag and offer it to my new seatmate, knowing that the ghost won’t want to risk getting close enough to sniff them now.

“Sure.” He takes a handful. “Hey, why are you poking out your tongue?”

“Oh.” A blush creeps across my cheeks as the old biddy huffs away. “No reason.”

Other books in this series

Grimdale Graveyard Mysteries
Book 1 - You're So Dead To Me
Book 2 - If You've Got It, Haunt It
Book 3 - Ghoul As A Cucumber
Book 4 - Not A Mourning Person

FAQ: Can my book be personalised?

Because our signed books ship from two different locations, they have been pre-signed by Steffanie and unfortunately cannot be customised. Come and see us at an event to get custom messages in your books!

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