By Sue Ann Jaffarian

May possibly the Blond Bomber serial killer in all likelihood be Dr. Brian Eddy, plastic health practitioner to the wealthy and recognized? Odelia by no means may have suspected the famous surgeon of killing the bevy of buxom blonds if she hadn't heard it at once from her buddy Lillian--Dr. Eddy's personal mother!--over lunch sooner or later. This secret will get even messier than Odelia's fowl parmigiana sandwich as Odelia discovers simply how difficult--and dangerous--it should be to bust this killer. Bountiful compliment for the Odelia gray secret sequence "A worthy sequence . . . a true deal with for chick-lit and secret enthusiasts who like feisty women."--Library magazine, starred overview "Odelia gray is delightfully huge and dependable in Jaffarian's 3rd wonderful romp."--Publishers Weekly "Odelia gray is every little thing you will have in a heroine...smart, humorous, and fully unapologetic."--Tim Maleeny, award-winning writer of Stealing the Dragon "An fascinating, well-plotted secret thatwill entertain and inspire."--The Strand journal

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Additional resources for Booby Trap (An Odelia Grey Mystery, Book 4)

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Clarke. I won’t be a spoilsport. And, after all, what did anybody expect? That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? ” “But—” “There was something there, Mr. Clarke. ” Two doors opened into the hall, one at the left and one at the right. We looked toward the door at the left, because a light had been switched on there. And 61 a woman, who could be nobody but Gwyneth Logan, came out and joined us. Now I am not going to pretend that I was deeply impressed by my first sight of Mrs. Logan. Whatever powers of fascination or beguilement she possessed, they were not immediately apparent.

She wore a dress of plain dark green, with tan stockings and shoes. Her manner was reserved and rather shy. “I thought I heard someone call out,” she said, as though to explain her presence. She had a soft, low voice, hardly seeming to open her lips when she spoke. ” Clarke’s cheerful heartiness blew away bogies. ” he said, bustling across to her and hauling her out of the doorway. “I want you to meet the rest of our party, and be friends at once. 62 Gwyneth, I want you to meet Miss Fraser. Mr.

Two doors opened into the hall, one at the left and one at the right. We looked toward the door at the left, because a light had been switched on there. And 61 a woman, who could be nobody but Gwyneth Logan, came out and joined us. Now I am not going to pretend that I was deeply impressed by my first sight of Mrs. Logan. Whatever powers of fascination or beguilement she possessed, they were not immediately apparent. Or perhaps the moment was too confused. I had a vague picture of a woman of medium height, twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old, with a good though not striking figure.

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