Unflappable and resourceful, Abigail Timberlake, antique dealer and owner of Charlotte, North Carolina's Den of Antiquity, relies on her knowledge and savvy to authenitcate the facts from the fakes when it comes to either curios or people. Her expertise makes Abby invaluable to exceptionally handsome Tradd Maxwell Burton, wealthy scion of the renowned Latham family. He needs her to determine the most priceless item in the Latham mansion and then split the proceeds of it with her. A treasure hunt in an antique-filled manor? All Abby can say is "let the games begin."
It's Tough to Keep Help
Accompanied by her best girlfriend, C.J., Abby arrives at the estate and is met with cool reserve, if no downright rudeness, from the members of the Latham clan. Trying to carry out Tradd's request, Abby finds that she could cut the household tension with a knife. But someone has beaten her to it by stabbing a maid to death with an ancient kris. Suddenly all eyes are on C.J., whose fingerprints happen to be all over the murder weapon. it's up to Abby to use her knack for detecting forgeries to expose the fake alibi of the genuine killer.
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1 . Hysterical writing
Posted August 30, 2009 by Diana , San Diegofabulous, laugh outloud book! What fun writing. Even has a good 'who-dune-it' in it. This is the first book by this author I have read and it is as funny as Evanavich 'was'...........janet has become stale with the same old story line over and over.
But this one was so funny. I loved that the main character is not young, perfect and beautiful.
March 01, 1999
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Excerpt from Baroque and Desperate by Tamar Myers
I dreamed the plane was hijacked by Yankee terrorists. It was horrible. They held guns to our heads and made us say the pledge of allegiance in under one minute. They took away our glasses of tea, and forced us to gulp gallons of diet soda. Then, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, they tried to make us eat cornbread baked with sugar. Mercifully, I woke up before a crumb could pass my lips.
"You had a nightmare," the young man beside me said. "I didn't know what to do, so I poked you with my magazine."
I stared at him. He was handsome, too handsome for me to have missed when I boarded the plane. That's what happens when your cruise ship docks in San Juan on its final night, and you suddenly discover you have a taste for Puerto Rican rum.
"My name is Tradd Burton," he said, and gave me an easy, good-old-boy grin. "Tradd Maxwell Burton."
"Abigail Timberlake," I grunted. I do not dispense my middle name to strangers.
"You from Charlotte?" he asked.
I nodded, and my seatmate became a blur. There was no need to ask where he was from. Tradd Maxwell Burton couldn't say the pledge in under a minute, even if he taped it and played it on fast-forward.
"You been on a cruise?" he asked.
"How'd you guess?"
"I saw the name of your cruise line on your bag when you put it in the overhead."
"You're very observant," I said, and closed my eyes. The young man had a right to be flattered. Usually I reserve sarcasm for close relatives and other people I care about.
"Hey, it wasn't one of those singles cruises, was it? I bet it was. A pretty woman like you..."
I said nothing. My head felt like a nut in a squirrel's jaws. I certainly wasn't up to flirting, even with someone as young and attractive as Tradd.