Dead Man Driving

HAZEL

I drive a hearse for a living. She's older than I am, she shines like a piano, and two million strangers watch me polish her on the internet.

Then a mob lawyer's will says he goes to New Orleans by road. In my hearse. Driven by me.

And his son rides shotgun.

Fifteen hundred miles. One casket. A buttoned-up Harvard lawyer in a three-piece suit who hates my music, my snacks, and the fact that the internet has already decided he's my husband.

Somewhere in Virginia he stops watching the road.

I'm good on camera. I'm great on camera. It's off camera that nobody stays.

DANTE

My father left me three things. A funeral to carry out. A list of instructions. And a hearse driver with glitter on her eyelids and no respect for the speed limit.

I follow instructions. It's what I'm for.

Nowhere in them did it say she'd sing to the dead at gas stations. Or fall asleep on my shoulder in a motel in Alabama. Or look at me like I'm the only thing on the road worth filming.

There's something in the back of this hearse that could put my whole family in prison.

And the most dangerous thing I'm carrying south is what I want to do to her when the camera's off.

This is the second book in The Drop Dead Series. Reading order:

Over My Dead Body.

Dead Man Driving.

Dead Gorgeous.

Till Dead Do Us Part.