Calamity Jayne Heads West

( 23 )

Overview

Did you hear about the blonde coyote?
It got stuck in a trap, chewed off three legs, and was still stuck.

Tressa Jayne Turner, Grandville, Iowa's own little "Calamity Jayne," is headed for the Grand Canyon State—and a wedding! Tressa's goofy Gammy is gettin' hitched, and Tressa is looking forward to a little down time in the desert. But her sunny vacation is suddenly about to have more strings attached than ...
See more details below
Available through our Marketplace sellers.
Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (25) from $1.99   
  • New (2) from $24.98   
  • Used (23) from $1.99   
Close
Sort by
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
$24.98
Seller since 2011

Feedback rating:

(939)

Condition:

New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

New
Brand new and unread! Join our growing list of satisfied customers!

Ships from: Phoenix, MD

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
$45.00
Seller since 2015

Feedback rating:

(215)

Condition: New
Brand new.

Ships from: acton, MA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Close
Sort by
Sending request ...

Overview

Did you hear about the blonde coyote?
It got stuck in a trap, chewed off three legs, and was still stuck.

Tressa Jayne Turner, Grandville, Iowa's own little "Calamity Jayne," is headed for the Grand Canyon State—and a wedding! Tressa's goofy Gammy is gettin' hitched, and Tressa is looking forward to a little down time in the desert. But her sunny vacation is suddenly about to have more strings attached than a dreamcatcher! Her cousin's keeping secrets, the roguishly hot Ranger Rick's sending mixed signals—more of the smokin' than smoke variety—and a "Kookamunga," a butt-ugly fertility figurine Tressa picked up at a roadside stand as a wedding gift, is turning out to be more trouble than tribal treasure. This wacky wedding's about to become a southwestern scavenger hunt of Amazing Race-meets-The Da Vinci Code proportions, featuring a washed-up actress out to kick-start her career, a suspect spiritual advisor, locals with a cause, and a ten-year-old who's a chip off a certain ranger's blockhead.

It'll be a vision quest to make Thelma and Louise's southwestern spree seem like amateur night at the OK Corral. May the best spirit guide win.

(NOTE: This book was previously published under the title "Calamity Jayne Heads West".)

Other Calamity Jayne books:
#1 Calamity Jayne
#2 Calamity Jayne and the Fowl Play at the Fair
#3 Calamity Jayne and the Haunted Homecoming
#4 Calamity Jayne and the Campus Caper
#5 Calamity Jayne in the Wild, Wild West
#6 Calamity Jayne and the Hijinks on the High Seas

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

Lissa Staley
"Outrageously hilarious romantic mystery with a heroine who's a calamity waiting to happen."

The distinctive, quirky writing style of author Kathleen Bacus combined with Tressa "Calamity" Jayne's outlandish monologues deliver a story filled with riotous laughter, along with the occasional snicker, giggle or grin. Tressa Jayne's adventures are funnier than Stephanie Plum, smarter than Bubbles Yablonsky and jam packed with hip references to keep the reader wanting more.

Posted S
Chick Lit Cafe - _ _
"Throw in two parts Nancy Drew, one part Lucille Ball, add a dash of Stephanie Plum, shake it all up and you’ve got a one-of-a-kind amateur sleuth with a penchant for junk food and hot-pink snakeskin cowgirl boots. A word to the wise: if you’re prone to laughing out loud when reading funny books, try not to read Calamity Jayne when you’re sandwiched between two sleeping passengers on an airplane…sometimes we learn these things the hard way."
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780505527332
  • Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Company, Inc.
  • Publication date: 10/2/2007
  • Series: Calamity Jayne Series , #5
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 326
  • Product dimensions: 5.96 (w) x 6.82 (h) x 0.92 (d)

Meet the Author

Kathleen Bacus's path to publication can certainly be described as "the road less traveled." A pioneer for women in law enforcement, she was one of the first female state troopers in Iowa, and learned two very valuable lessons that have served her well in her pursuit of a professional writing career: never give up and never stop laughing. The mother of triplets, Kathleen began writing when she was homebound with four children under the age of three. She says,"Writing was my way of getting away from it all--without ever leaving the house!"

Kathleen is an award-winning author and makes her home in central Iowa. Visit Kathleen at her website at www.kathybacus.com or follow the Killer Fiction Writers blog at www.killerfictionwriters.blogspot.com
Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

Calamity Jayne Heads West


By Kathleen Bacus

Dorchester Publishing

Copyright © 2007 Kathleen Cecile Bacus
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-505-52733-2


Chapter One

A plane is on its way to Phoenix when a blonde in economy gets up, moves to the first-class section and sits down. The flight attendant watches her do this and asks to see her ticket. She then tells the blonde that she paid for economy and that she will have to sit in the back. The blonde replies, "I'm blonde, I'm beautiful, I'm going to Phoenix, and I'm staying right here!" The flight attendant goes into the cockpit and tells the pilot and copilot that there's some blonde bimbo sitting in first class who belongs in economy and won't move back to her seat. The copilot goes to the blonde and tries to explain that because she only paid for economy she will have to leave and return to her seat. The blonde replies, "I'm blonde, I'm beautiful, I'm going to Phoenix, and I'm staying right here!" The copilot tells the pilot that he probably should have the police waiting when they land to arrest this woman. The pilot says, "You say she's a blonde? I'll handle her. I'm married to a blonde-I speak blonde!" He goes back to the blonde, takes off his hat, bends over and whispers in her ear. She abruptly stands and says, "Oh ... I'm sorry," passes her hand through her hair and moves back to her seat in economy. The flight attendant and copilotare amazed and ask the pilot what he said to make her move. The pilot just grins. "I told her first class isn't going to Phoenix."

I know what you're thinking. Everybody loves a good dumb blonde joke, right? Uh, think again, pilgrim. I hear them so often I see them acted out in my dreams at night. There's the one about the poor, dumb blonde tied to the railroad tracks. Her biggest concern? That the oncoming train will change the part in her hair. Or the blonde who tripped over the cordless phone and sprang a leak in her silicone implant. Or the blonde who spent twenty minutes staring at the orange juice can because it said "concentrate." What a laugh riot. I'm doubling over here, folks. You? My grandma-a blonde before her hair turned the color of toilet-bowl cleaner-swears blonde jokes are part of a vast brunette conspiracy. You know. It's a by-product of the Blondes Have More Fun ad campaign that fueled the fires of discontent of envious brunettes everywhere and put blondes forever in their mahogany-colored crosshairs. Yikes!

Blonde jokes are the bane of my existence-along with my hair, which could do double duty as a scouring pad. They're like bunions are to my gramma. Come to think of it, blonde jokes seem to have been around just as long as my gammy's bunions. Hmmm. I wonder if there's a connection.

Some folks swear I'm living-and-breathing inspiration for my own cockeyed collection of dumb blonde jokes-an assertion I downright dispute. My official position on the matter? Prove it. I will ante up being somewhat notorious in my little hunk of heartland heaven, though. My name is Tressa Turner. Tressa Jayne Turner. But thanks to a drop-dead gorgeous ranger named Rick, who is the only guy I know who can make my heart go pitter-patter one minute and give me indigestion the next, to my hometown homeys in Grandville, Iowa, USA, I'm better known as Calamity.

No, not that Calamity Jane-although I do like to think she and I have a few things in common. For one, we're both cool cowgirls with a bit of a rebellious streak thrown in to keep things interesting. Two, we're devastatingly attractive to men. Well ... okay, you caught me. I admit I'm not your traditional beauty queen material-although I was State Fair Rodeo Queen runner-up one year. But for all I know, the original Calamity Jane was so homely that even horseflies wouldn't look at her twice. With her sidearm skills plus that harmless little ol' rebellious streak I mentioned earlier, I doubt anyone was foolhardy enough to suggest she was any less purty than a newborn filly with four white stockings and a matching blaze on its head. Unless they had visions of suicide by a Wild West sharpshooter, that is.

I'm your basic twenty-first-century, cute cowgirl type. Born and raised in small-town Iowa, I grew up loving horses, dogs, John Wayne movies, and beef-sadly for my hips and thighs, not always in that order. Growing up I always thought I'd have made a kick-ass Mattie Ross in the film version of True Grit. Well, except for that hideous bowl cut the actress had going. And that scene in the rattlesnake den? Big-time deal breaker.

Iowans worship John Wayne. Maybe because he was born in Winterset we feel like Duke was one of us. Simply say the word "grit," and John Wayne with an eye-patch pops into our heads.

Being from rural Iowa is both a blessing and a curse. In a town as small as Grandville-population: seven thousand-you have a sense of community and kinship pretty much impossible to replicate in larger cities. Someone dies in Grandville, the family gets enough casseroles, pies, and mac and cheese to feed the Carlisle Septuplets for a month.

That close-knit connection, however, comes with a cost. It's almost impossible to get by with much of anything that the entire population doesn't know all about. That's not a bad thing when you've made the dean's list or the state basketball tournament, but it's not exactly ideal when you have a history of misadventures that involve murder, malicious mischief, moldering mansions and matrimonial madness. (Not my matrimonial madness, thank goodness. Just in case you're wondering.) In the last twelve months I've played hide and seek with a dead body, tag with a felonious dunk-tank clown, cat-and-mouse with a chiller-thriller author, and college-edition Clue with a campus criminal.

Uh, no. Funny you should ask. I'm not a cop by profession, although I have spent a respectable amount of time in various law enforcement interrogation and interview rooms lately. I'm a journalist. Kind of. Sort of. Of the aspiring variety. A jill-of-all-trades-that pretty much describes my colorful and varied job history. I've worked my way through enough different vocations that I finally feel somewhat confident I've discovered what I want to be when I grow up. I'm just finding it a wee bit of a challenge to be taken seriously as a professional print journalist when folks still recall the time my horse crapped in the mayor's open convertible at the Fourth of July parade. Or when I made the front page of my employer's biggest competitor's newspaper dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West and doing the tango with a geriatric Van Helsing. It would be fair to say my nickname's been harder for me to live down than Gigli for Ben and Jen.

In between working as a cub reporter at the Grandville Gazette and as assistant chief cook and bottle washer at my Uncle Frank's Dairee Freeze, taking (and passing) college courses and getting my best friend married off, I'm also posing as fiancée to one very large and very mysterious felon-I mean fellow-much to the dismay of one certain ranger-type. To further complicate matters, I'm still attempting to decide if Ranger Rick Townsend, an Iowa Division of Natural Resources officer who would set a sales record for Midwest Outdoors if they stuck him on their cover, is the man for me-and if I'm the conflicted cowgirl for him. Sometimes I'm convinced that I could never settle for any other guy. Other times, I'm equally certain the studly ranger could never settle for just one gal. Sounds like something from my grandma's daytime TV shows, no? The Days of Our Celibate Lives. The Carp Cop Casanova and the Confused. Ranger Romeo Meets Calamity Jayne. Sigh.

While we're on the subject of relationships, it appears my seventy-year-old gammy is about to sample the joys of sex on a rather more frequent basis than her twenty-four-year-old granddaughter. How sad and pathetic is that? (Uh, no need to respond. That question was your basic rhetorical one.)

Things get even better. Gram's fixin' to hitch her wagon to a long-in-the-tooth Townsend, no less. My Grandma Turner recently became engaged to Joe Townsend-Ranger Rick Townsend's grandfather! Now, don't get me wrong. I think the world of ol' Joe. He was the Van Helsing I was tangoing with last Halloween in that photo. It's just that some even scarier mental images pop into my head when I think of Joltin' Joe, a senior citizen with a James Bond complex housed in a Pee-Wee Herman physique, getting it on with my gammy, who, in her younger days, was known as Hellion Hannah. My grandma collects anatomically-enhanced fertility statues-think Priapus on Viagra-never skips those hot, steamy sex scenes in romance novels-okay, she even highlights them for quick and easy reference later, and reads them out loud to me in the evenings-and I probably have her to thank for bequeathing me her predilection for getting into pickles. And we're not talking the kosher kind here, folks.

As a result, I'm just a teensy bit tense. Okay, so I've actually developed this rather unbecoming nervous twitch that has on occasion been confused with a grand mal seizure whenever I ponder these nuptials. Especially considering a good chunk of the Turner/Townsend clans were headed to points west to formally celebrate the auspicious union.

Considering the dynamic duo's history of doing their own thing-which usually spells trouble for Tressa-I'd initially supported a long engagement. "Take your time," I'd encouraged, reminding them that the glow of true love can often diminish when confronted with whiskers on the sink (Joe's, not Gammy's ... I hope), and panty hose on the curtain rod (Gammy's, not Joe's ... I hope), and toenail clippings on the nightstand. (Gotta level with you, folks. This one here's a toss-up.)

With my gramma taking up residence with me last fall, however, I must confess the idea of her moving out of our shared double-wide trailer outside Grandville and into Joe's residence morphed into a dangling carrot this little blond bunny was finding very hard to resist. Coupled with the thought of helping Gram pack up the phallic statues in the living room, and an opportunity to have intimate encounters of my own with-out worrying my gramma would wander in wearing nothin' but her dentures and wooly socks, said dangling carrot was now dipped in chocolate and coated with colorful candy sprinkles.

Wedding plans were hastily made, but I was having none of attendant duties. I'd just finished a stint as maid of honor for my friend, Kari, and that hadn't gone real well. Trust me on this one, folks. When you can use the words "strip club," "raid," and "attempted murder" as matrimonial scrapbook moments ... well, you don't want to go there. Or, I didn't.

As a result, Gram insisted her daughter-my Aunt Kay-must perform that role. My dad's twin sister lives in northern Arizona. Aunt Kay is a media specialist at the Flagstaff Public Library. Her husband, my Uncle Ben (yeah, like the rice) is an art professor turned artist. His work is regularly sold in a pricey little art gallery in nearby Sedona, an elite tourist community with upscale souvenir shops and an eclectic collection of yummy eateries.

(I suppose this is as good a time as any to mention that I enjoy food. I manage to avoid rampant obesity only by virtue of the fact that I usually hold down a minimum of two jobs, feed and care for a small herd of horseflesh, and look out for two hairy golden labs big as miniature horses that, unfortunately, leave the watchdog duties to me. And living with a senior citizen who loves a walk on the wild side even if she has to use a walker to get her there, and who is about to hook up with a fellow AARP member with a gift for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, I burn calories more efficiently than my Uncle Frank's new ninety-three percent energy efficient Dairee Freeze furnace burns heating fuel.)

So, Gram and Joe agreed to a short civil ceremony at our local courthouse to "make it legal," after which the entire family was fixing to fly out to Phoenix for a small but tasteful exchanging of vows that would take place in Flagstaff. As an added incentive, Gram and Joe had insisted the entire family join them to celebrate on their weeklong honeymoon cruise and, as Gram put it, "help the new blended family bond." I'd begged off, citing one how-low-can-you-go bank balance, two bosses, five critters and ten post-Easter pounds, compliments of a serious, long-term Cadbury Crème Egg addiction that made the idea of squeezing into a swimsuit and showing off what spills out around the edges about as appealing as helping my gammy wax her mustache ... or any other part of her body for that matter.

I finally caved when Gram and Joe went ahead and purchased my nonrefundable passage-my birthday and Christmas presents from them for the next five years-and I found out a certain ranger with a certain booty that a certain cowgirl fantasizes about seeing in a bright red Speedo ... or on a nudes-only beach somewhere-was to be a fellow passenger. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Contrary to what you may have heard, Tressa's momma didn't raise no dummy.

"So. You packed yet?"

I was in my bedroom at the open door of my closet, staring at hangers that held too many khakis from too many days employed at Bargain City, a local discount chain store; assorted T-shirts with cute cowgirl slogans for leisure time; hoodies, jeans, and low-rise slacks for the newspaper. I turned to discover my gramma in the doorway. With white beauty cream slathered on her face and her hair in a shower cap, she looked like something from Scary Movie's 60th Reunion.

"Does underwear count?" I asked.

"Underwear?" My gammy's eyebrows met above her nose.

"You know, the garments we wear under our clothing to protect our modesty-and the sensibilities of the seeing public. You did pack underwear, didn't you?" I asked.

"Guess I'm not done packin', after all," she said. I winced. "You better get a move on. We leave Saturday," she reminded me.

"I'm not sure what to take," I replied, frowning at my closet contents again.

The last time I'd packed for an extended trip I'd been about fifteen. It was our last family vacation. My brother, Craig, had just graduated and was about to head off to college, so the folks thought we needed a final family fling. Paw Paw Will had died the previous winter, and the folks thought the trip would do my grandma some good. Me being ... well, me, I'd packed a nice assortment of chocolate bars in my suitcase. (You know: Have chocolate, will travel.) Outside Wichita, the AC in our car went out. By the time we hit our hotel that night, my sister Taylor had gotten carsick four times and Gramma had to stop six more times for calls of nature. And my suitcase? Well, let's just say if I'd dressed in any of the clothing I'd packed, Willy Wonka would've been all over me. Not a pleasant mental image. Unless, of course, Johnny Depp was Wonka.

The next day we blew a tire in Amarillo, lost the hubcap along I-40 somewhere near U.S. Highway 38, and at a rest area just outside Albuquerque my dad got stung by a swarm of killer bees in the men's restroom. At that point he was ready to nuke our little farewell road trip and turn around and head right back to good ol' Grandville. There, if you lose your hubcap within the city limits, you'll generally find it propped against the stoplight pole at the intersection of High-ways 18 and 6, waiting for you to retrieve it.

"What do you mean you don't know what to take?" My gammy stepped into the room and a glob of face cream dropped from her chin to the rug. "You take clothes. Makeup. Sanitary supplies."

I made a face. Considering her box of bladder control briefs presently taking up space under my bathroom sink, I didn't exactly want to discuss toiletries.

"Clothes? What clothes exactly?" I asked, motioning at my closet. "I have khaki slacks, blue jeans, T-shirts, and no time to shop." No money either, for that matter. Even working two-plus jobs, I always seemed to be borderline broke. I often dream of the day when I won't have to view my bank statement through slits between my fingers like I do horror movies at the theater.

"What about dresses? You got any dresses in there?"

(Continues...)



Excerpted from Calamity Jayne Heads West by Kathleen Bacus Copyright © 2007 by Kathleen Cecile Bacus. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 23 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(14)

4 Star

(7)

3 Star

(1)

2 Star

(1)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 23 Customer Reviews
  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    lighthearted Calamity Jayne caper

    Tressa ¿Calamity¿ Jayne's crazy grandma is taking the family with her so that they can attend her wedding to the grandfather of Jayne's maybe boyfriend Rick. They are heading to Flagstaff, Arizona. On the trek, Jayne knows she needs to find the right present for her beloved wacko relative and thinks she has succeeded with ¿Kookamunga¿ an ugly fertility figurine that reminds her of granny. However, someone else wants Kookamunga and is trying to steal it. Jayne will do anything to insure granny gets what she deserves so no thief will get away with Kookamunga as far as she is concerned. At the same time, Jayne and her horde of invading relatives including her pain in the butt sarcastic preadolescent nephew begin a treasure hunt while Rick is hot and cold in his affections towards her. --- The latest lighthearted Calamity Jayne caper is an amusing thriller as the heroine is overdosing with to too much family. The treasure hunt is fun to follow as Jayne and ilk seem to land in one problem after another. Although her nephew comes across as a brat irritating readers as much as Jayne, fans of the series will enjoy her latest adventures as she and the clan invade the Grand Canyon State. --- Harriet Klausner

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 5, 2013

    Silly, funny and though I hate to admit it, I love this series.

    This series of books is like a guilty pleasure. They are so silly, you hate to admit you love them. Like sexy undies, if anyone found out I wear them at my age, I would be so embarrassed. These books are the same type of indulgence. A pleasure meant just for the reader. The blonde jokes get a little old, as does the I can't decide which man I choose does. (Janet Evonvich style).A few editing mistakes, but no big deal. Mostly a good fun read. 290 pages. A chick book. Ages 16 and up, no sex, but steamy foreplay. Very mild violence.

    AD

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted December 14, 2012

    Great

    You will love it.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 1, 2012

    Finally!!!

    This was the best one yet of the series, she finally made a decision and it was well worth the wait. I hope there's another book to follow!!!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted October 14, 2011

    Wish

    I loved eveyone of these books so much humor, just wish she wrote more!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted July 22, 2013

    Love these books

    One is as good as the other. Love the humor. Laughed out loud while reading.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 5, 2013

    Great Read

    I really enjoyed the whole series (6 books). I received the first one as a free nook book and was hooked. I had to read the rest.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 28, 2012

    So good

    Couldn't put it down

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 25, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 30, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted October 30, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted August 20, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 6, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted February 22, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 3, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 23, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted October 26, 2008

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted May 5, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted December 29, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted October 30, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 23 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)