What do you think?
Rate this book


498 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 24, 2011
Abby kept her hair down but blew it sleek to frame her face and she’d done her makeup in what she referred to in her wide array of makeup looks (an array she’d once enumerated to Ben while he nearly choked himself laughing even though she was not being funny) as “Smoky Evening”.
“Have you slept with him?”
Abby’s mouth dropped open.
“Don’t give me that look,” Jenny warned. “He’s hot. I was in your shoes, I’d sleep with him,” she announced baldly. “How long did you wait?”
“It happened Thursday,” Abby answered.
“You were always slow,” Jenny remarked.
“I don’t think it’s that easy to get rid of a ghost,” Abby told the older woman.
“I didn’t say it’d be easy,” Mrs. Truman noted, waving the remains of her donut again. “I just said we’d sort something out.” She leaned forward and took a sip of coffee before sitting back and saying, “I know a few people. I’ll make some calls.”
“What’s going on?”
“I know what’s no’ going on,” Angus cut in impatiently, “and that’s the fact that no ghosty she-bitch is being hurtled over the side of the tower straight to the depths of hell. That’s what’s no’ going on.”


Cash Fraser is planning revenge and to get it he needs the perfect woman. So he hires her. Abigail Butler has lost nearly everything in her life and she’s about to lose the home she loves.

“I don’t give a fuck about whatever fucking rules you have. That was you that you just gave me. I wanted it, you gave it, I took it and I’m not fucking giving it back.”

“They were simply meant to be. He understood this was a ludicrously romantic notion. And he didn’t give a fuck.”

“Last night, I thought we were going to begin.”
“Begin what?”
She let out a soft sigh and said,
“You know, begin”
His voice held a smile when he replied,
“We did, Abby. Couldn’t you tell?”
She pulled his pillow to her chest and whispered,
“Not really.”
“Then you weren’t paying much attention” he muttered.”


"I want you to usher in the era of the FRASERs. Your grandfather deserves that."














“Some folks believe. Some folds need to see to believe. Some folds need their loved ones hurled off the top of a castle by a spirit-bitch-from-hell to believe.”

“There will never be another Ben. I’ll never have that again. Most women don’t get that kind of love even once in their life. I had it and now it’s gone and it hurts every day. Even after all this time it hurts every single day.
“Tell your man I won’t take any last minute excuses. I don’t care if he’s got fancy schmancy friends. If Marlon Brando himself asks him to dinner, he’s going to say no. Understood?”
“I think Marlon Brando is dead, Mrs. Truman,” Jenny, now standing (or, more accurately, huddling, protection in numbers as it were) beside Abby, informed the old woman.
“Is not,” Mrs. Truman shot back.
“I think he is,” Jenny, unwisely, pressed.
“He is not!” Mrs. Truman snapped loudly and Abby could hear Cash chuckling in her ear so she knew he could hear every word. “I would have heard,” Mrs. Truman went on.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” Jenny mumbled toward Abby (and Abby’s phone), and Cash’s chuckle became laughter.










