By M. C. Beaton
Agatha is dreaming of a white Christmas–but who could be becoming a member of her less than the mistletoe? through the darkish, gray days of early December Agatha is obsessed via in basic terms things–Christmas, and her ex, James Lacey.
Although she says she feels not anything for James now, she feels yes that making plans the appropriate Dickensian Christmas for all her neighbors will by some means reanimate her love. Even the homicide of a Mrs. Tamworthy, poisoned with hemlock on the neighborhood manor condo, does little to distract Agatha from setting up her excellent xmas celebrations.
And but it may do, as Mrs. Tamworthy had written to Agatha, telling her that one in every of her relatives desired to see her lifeless prior to the 12 months was once out. a little bit guiltily (and belatedly), Agatha units out to unravel the case with assistance from her new recruit, younger Toni Gilmour.
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Additional info for Agatha Raisin and Kissing Christmas Goodbye (Agatha Raisin, Book 18)
Extenuating circumstances. It’s okay, Uncle Lou. ” Wasn’t it the thought that counted? “Okay. Well. ” A pause and then, “I just thought, with everything arranged and all, that—” He bit the words off suddenly. “Well, anyway. Will we see you two at Sunday lunch next weekend? Your Aunt Molly’s talking about doing it up right. ” “Yeah? ” “Great,” I echoed warmly, not about to let my questioning nature get in the way of a home-cooked meal surrounded by good people. Good people who didn’t put me on the hot seat with regards to my job, my finances, my relationships, my attitude, or my lack of interest in getting on with it and getting married and popping out grandchildren.
Ah, Tabor,” he said, “good. ” He gripped Lou’s hand hard, his thumb pressing down on Lou’s knuckle as though trying to make him cry uncle. And as I watched on, Lou seemed to return the favor. How . . odd. Must be a guy thing. Some of them seem willing to do almost anything to be top man on the totem pole. ” “It is indeed. ” Locke held out his hand and smiled down at me as his somewhat buggy pale hazel eyes—which looked more gray than green or blue—roamed over me. He wore his sandy brown hair slicked back because it was growing sparse up front, but his crazy eyebrows more than made up for the loss, as did the hair sticking out around his ears.
Stay tuned . . I am Maggie O’Neill, empath, intuitive, and sometimes witchy nice girl, and this is my story. Life . . happens. The worn bumper sticker on the aging, oversized sedan taking up the lane in front of us—us meaning Marcus and me—caught my eye as we made our way across Stony Mill proper bright and early that Monday morning as we moved into September. Boy howdy, I thought as my mouth formed a wry grimace. Did it ever. Case in point being the solid lump of a cast that had been my boon companion for the last four weeks.
Agatha Raisin and Kissing Christmas Goodbye (Agatha Raisin, Book 18) by M. C. Beaton