Wicked Appetite (Lizzy and Diesel)
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Life in Marblehead has had a pleasant predictability, until Diesel arrives. Rumor has it that a collection of priceless ancient relics representing the Seven Deadly Sins have made their way to Boston's North Shore. Partnered with pastry chef Lizzie Tucker, Diesel bullies and charms his way through historic Salem to track them down―and his criminal mastermind cousin Gerewulf Grimorie. The black-haired, black-hearted Wulf is on the hunt for the relic representing gluttony. Caught in a race against time, Diesel and Lizzie soon find out that more isn't always better, as they battle Wulf and the first of the deadly sins.
With delectable characters and non-stop thrills that have made Janet Evanovich a household name, Wicked Appetite will leave you hungry for more.
a monkey.” Carl shrugged. I guess from a monkey’s point of view, it was difficult to tell if that was a compliment or an insult. From my point of view, it was clearly an insult, and I experienced a bizarre rush of maternal outrage. “I don’t like you trash-talking my monkey,” I said to the spike-faced guy. “And your face looks ridiculous.” “Not as ridiculous as your hairy mutant in that shirt,” he said. Carl snapped to attention. “Eep?” “It’s a girlie baby shirt,” the kid said. Carl threw
holding four brooms. “I got to thinking about the broom thing. I mean, there are all kinds of brooms, and maybe it makes a difference, right? So I got a bunch of them.” She leaned the brooms against the counter and opened Ripple’s book to the soaring spell. “I don’t really need Ripple’s. I know the spell by heart, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt for someone to follow along just to make sure I have it perfect.” Clara pulled the plugs on the big mixer, the blender, and the coffeemaker. “Just in
“Lizzy.” “Do you know how you got here?” “No.” “You were with Wulf,” Diesel said. “Oh yeah. Now I remember.” I looked down at my hands. “Am I burned? Do I have blisters anywhere?” “The parts of you I can see look okay. I’d rather wait and examine the rest of you at home so I can take my time. Right now, we need to get moving. I’m illegally parked.” “You’re supposed to be a powerful Unmentionable. Can’t you cloak your car in an invisibility shield? Can’t you make the sign disappear from the
the big bench seat. “Chee, chee, chee,” Carl said. I slid onto the front passenger seat and ran my hand over the white upholstery. “I feel like I should be in a wedding or going to a prom,” I said to Diesel. “I hate to disappoint you, but they’re not on the schedule.” It was almost two o’clock when Diesel parked the Lincoln in front of my house. It was a balmy seventy degrees, and the sun was bright in a blue sky. General Eisenhower was on his stoop, taking in the day. Aside from the general,
followed Diesel down the hall to apartment 2C. Hard to tell why I was going along with this. Probably, it was in the vicinity of morbid curiosity, like stopping to see a train wreck. Diesel put his hand to the doorknob and the door opened. “How?” I asked. “Don’t know,” Diesel said, pushing into the apartment, closing the door behind us. “It’s just one of those things I can do.” I was about to ask what else he could do besides open locks and pull power plugs on Unmentionables, but the