Living Dead in Dallas - A Sookie Stackhouse Novel : Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 02
When a vampire asks Sookie Stackhouse to use her telepathic skills to find another missing vampire, she agrees under one condition: the bloodsuckers must promise to let the humans go unharmed.Easier said than done.
"Highly original, extraordinarily riveting..." -Lynn Hightower"Absorbing." -Romantic Times -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
Showing 1-3 of the 3 most recent reviews
1 . Great Story, Bad Writing
Posted June 07, 2010 by Nicky , NYThe storyline is great with all its twists and turns.
I do not like how it is written at all, but the story is good enough for me to try to ignore the writing and see what happens next.
2 . more more more
Posted December 30, 2009 by Gina , Bronx NYThis series is my life.......if you want to forget about this lame world we live in, Charlaine Harris's world of the supernatural is definetly a great place to go......this book is definetly a step up from the teen craze of twilight......this is a vampire book that a mature crowd can really sink their teeth into (pun intended)....... ;)
3 . Hard to put Down!
Posted March 01, 2009 by Angie , FloresvilleIf you enjoyed the Twilight Series, you'll like this series as well. Keeps your attention from page to page. You can't help to want a Vampire for yourself.
September 27, 2003
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Excerpt from Living Dead in Dallas - A Sookie Stackhouse Novel by Charlaine Harris
ANDY BELLEFLEUR was as drunk as a skunk. This wasn't normal for Andy -- believe me, I know all the drunks in Bon Temps. Working at Sam Merlotte's bar for several years has pretty much introduced me to all of them. But Andy Bellefleur, native son and detective on Bon Temps's small police force, had never been drunk in Merlotte's before. I was mighty curious as to why tonight was an exception.
Andy and I aren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, so I couldn't ask him outright. But other means were open to me, and I decided to use them. Though I try to limit employing my disability, or gift, or whatever you want to call it, to find out things that might have an effect on me or mine, sometimes sheer curiosity wins out.
I let down my mental guard and read Andy's mind. I was sorry.
Andy had had to arrest a man that morning for kidnapping. He'd taken his ten-year-old neighbor to a place in the woods and raped her. The girl was in the hospital, and the man was in jail, but the damage that had been dealt was irreparable. I felt weepy and sad. It was a crime that touched too closely on my own past. I liked Andy a little better for his depression.
"Andy Bellefleur, give me your keys," I said. His broad face turned up to me, showing very little comprehension. After a long pause while my meaning filtered through to his addled brain, Andy fumbled in the pocket of his khakis and handed me his heavy key ring. I put another bourbon-and-Coke on the bar in front of him. "My treat," I said, and went to the phone at the end of the bar to call Portia, Andy's sister. The Bellefleur siblings lived in a decaying large white two-story antebellum, formerly quite a showplace, on the prettiest street in the nicest area of Bon Temps. On Magnolia Creek Road, all the homes faced the strip of park through which ran the stream, crossed here and there by decorative bridges for foot traffic only; a road ran on both sides. There were a few other old homes on Magnolia Creek Road, but they were all in better repair than the Bellefleur place, Belle Rive. Belle Rive was just too much for Portia, a lawyer, and Andy, a cop, to maintain, since the money to support such a home and its grounds was long since gone. But their grandmother, Caroline, stubbornly refused to sell.