By Janet Evanovich
Stephanie Plum is pondering her profession as a fugitive apprehension agent has run its direction. She's been shot at, spat at, stubborn at, fire-bombed, mooned, and attacked via canine. Stephanie thinks it's time for a transformation. So she quits. She wishes anything secure and general. however the type of hassle she had on the bail bonds place of work can't evaluate to the type of hassle she unearths herself dealing with now…
Stephanie is stalked by way of a maniac again from the grave for the only function of placing her right into a burial plot of her personal. He's killed earlier than, and he'll kill back if given the opportunity. stuck among staying far-off from the bounty hunter enterprise and staying alive, Stephanie reexamines her existence and the prospect that being a bounty hunter is the answer instead of the matter. After disturbingly short careers on the button manufacturing unit, Kan Klean Dry Cleaners, and Cluck-in-a-Bucket, Stephanie takes an workplace place in defense, operating for Ranger, the sexiest, baddest bounty hunter and businessman on continents. Tempers and temperatures upward push as pageant ratchets up among the 2 males in her life--her on-again, off-again boyfriend, tricky Trenton cop Joe Morelli, and her boss, Ranger. Can Stephanie Plum take the warmth? Can you?
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Additional resources for Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum, Book 11)
On the seventh or eighth night after the death of Lady Madeline, I experienced the full power of these feelings. For hours I lay awake, struggling against a sense of fear. I blamed my surroundings — the dusty furniture, the torn curtains which moved about in the wind of a rising storm, the ancient bed on which I lay. But my efforts were useless. At last, thoroughly afraid, I got up and looked as hard as I could into the darkness of the room. I heard — or thought that I heard - certain low sounds that came, from time to time, through the pauses in the storm.
In spite of its wide swing (which was now thirty feet or more), and its great force, it would not, for several minutes, cut into my flesh. At this thought, I paused. I dared not think further. I watched the blade as it flew above me. Down — steadily down it came. To the right — to the left - far and wide — with the terrible whistle of death! Down - certainly down just above my chest! I struggled violently to free my left arm. I shook and turned my head at every swing. I opened and closed my eyes as the bright blade flashed above me.
I did not know what answer to make to my friend. He admitted that much of the unhappiness which he suffered had a simple, and quite natural, origin. It was the long and severe illness of a greatly loved sister — his close companion for many 27 years — his last and only relative on earth. ' While he spoke, Lady Madeline (for that was her name) passed slowly through the room at the far end, and, without having noticed my presence, disappeared. I watched her with a surprise and deep fear that I could not account for.