Last Kiss

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Overview

New York Times bestselling author Luanne Rice returns to Hubbard’s Point, Connecticut, and to characters from her beloved Beach Girls, to tell the haunting story of a close-knit community grappling with a heartbreaking mystery, and of a woman rebuilding her world and reclaiming a love she believed lost a lifetime ago.

A face on a poster, a name in the news, an inexplicable tragedy. A promising young man goes out one warm summer evening and is found dead—murdered—less than ...

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Last Kiss

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Overview

New York Times bestselling author Luanne Rice returns to Hubbard’s Point, Connecticut, and to characters from her beloved Beach Girls, to tell the haunting story of a close-knit community grappling with a heartbreaking mystery, and of a woman rebuilding her world and reclaiming a love she believed lost a lifetime ago.

A face on a poster, a name in the news, an inexplicable tragedy. A promising young man goes out one warm summer evening and is found dead—murdered—less than twenty-four hours later. No motive. No clues. No answers. Most people reflect briefly on the disturbing headlines, perhaps say a silent prayer of safely removed sympathy, and go on with their lives. But what if the young man was your son? Or your true love?

Nearly a year after the death of eighteen-year-old Charlie, singer-songwriter Sheridan Rosslare still hasn’t played a note of the music that was once her life’s passion. Tucked away in the beach house where she raised her only child, she lives with her memories of him and a grief too big to share even with her beloved sisters or her dear friend Stevie Moore. Nor can Stevie comfort Charlie’s heartbroken girlfriend, Nell Kilvert, whom she regards as a daughter. Nell won’t rest until she finds out what really happened to the boy she loved. Out of the past she summons a man she believes cares enough, and is tough enough, to uncover the truth—Sheridan’s long-ago soul mate, Gavin Dawson.

Now Gavin’s boat, the Squire Toby, sits anchored in the harbor within sight of the window of the woman he once loved, still loves, and will always love. Sheridan, too, had once fervently believed in the miraculous power of love and healing, forgiveness, connection, and reconnection. But that faith died along with her son….

Unfolding among the Hubbard’s Point people and places that fans have come to treasure, and replete with feeling and mystery, Last Kiss weighs the power of the past to heal as well as wound, in a captivating tale of love, loss, and redemption that no reader will ever forget.

From the Hardcover edition.

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

Rice makes a solid return visit to the Hubbard's Point, Conn., setting of Beach Girls(2004). As the book opens, a year soaked in Wild Turkey has passed since singer/songwriter Sheridan Rosslare lost her son, Charlie, in a random New York mugging. While Sheridan drowns her sorrows, Charlie's girlfriend, Nell Kilvert, is more assiduous; she hires private investigator Gavin Dawson to prove there was nothing random about Charlie's death. For his part, Hubbard's Point native Gavin, a New York transplant, had pretty much written off Hubbard's Point after Sheridan, once the love of his life, dumped him for his wild and reckless ways years before. Now, older and wiser, he's still in love with Sheridan and wants to start over, but Sheridan's grief soon proves a formidable obstacle. An element of supernatural whimsy, a dark secret involving a trust fund and a disturbing question related to Charlie's estranged father, Randy, add complexity, while cameos from other Beach Girls characters contribute an engaging, homey touch. (Aug.)

Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From the Publisher
“An element of supernatural whimsy, a dark secret involving a trust fund and a disturbing question related to Charlie's estranged father, Randy, add complexity, while cameos from other Beach Girls characters contribute an engaging, homey touch.”—Publishers Weekly
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781415948323
  • Publisher: Random House Audio Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 1/1/2008
  • Format: CD

Meet the Author

Luanne Rice
Luanne Rice is the author, most recently, of Last Kiss and Light of the Moon, among many other New York Times bestsellers. She lives in New York City and on the Connecticut shore.

From the Trade Paperback edition.

Biography

Luanne Rice is the New York Times- bestselling author who has inspired the devotion of readers everywhere with her moving novels of love and family. She has been hailed by critics for her unique gifts, which have been described as "a beautiful blend of love and humor, with a little magic thrown in."

Rice began her writing career in 1985 with her debut novel Angels All Over Town. Since then, she has gone on to pen a string of heartwarming bestsellers. Several of her books have been adapted for television, including Crazy in Love, Blue Moon, Follow the Stars Home, and Beach Girls.

Rice was born in New Britain, Connecticut, where her father sold typewriters and her mother, a writer and artist, taught English. Throughout her childhood, Rice spent winters in New Britain and summers by Long Island Sound in Old Lyme, where her mother would hold writing workshops for local children. Rice's talent emerged at a very young age, and her first short story was published in American Girl Magazinewhen she was 15.

Rice later attended Connecticut College, but dropped out when her father became very ill. At this point, she knew she wanted to be a writer. Instead of returning to college, Rice took on many odd jobs, including working as a cook and maid for an exalted Rhode Island family, as well as fishing on a scallop boat during winter storms. These life experiences not only cultivated the author's love and talent for writing, but shaped the common backdrops in her novels of family and relationships on the Eastern seaboard. A true storyteller with a unique ability to combine realism and romance, Rice continues to enthrall readers with her luminous stories of life's triumphs and challenges.

Good To Know

Some interesting outtakes from our interview with Luanne:

"I take guitar lessons."

  • "I was queen of the junior prom. Voted in, according to one high school friend I saw recently, as a joke because my date and I were so shy, everyone thought it would be hilarious to see us onstage with crowns on our heads. It was 1972, and the theme of the prom was Color My World. For some reason I told my guitar teacher that story, and he said Yeah, color my world with goat's blood."

  • "I shared a room with both sisters when we were little, and I felt sorry for kids who had their own rooms."

  • "To support myself while writing in the early days, I worked as a maid and cook in one of the mansions in Newport, Rhode Island. I'd learned to love to cook in high school, by taking French cooking from Sister Denise at the convent next door to the school. The family I worked for didn't like French cooking and preferred broiled meat, well done, and frozen vegetables. They were particular about the brand—they liked the kind with the enclosed sauce packet. My grandmother Mim, who'd always lived with us, had taken the ferry from Providence to Newport every weekend during her years working at the hosiery factory, so being in that city made me feel connected to her."

  • "I lived in Paris. The apartment was in the Eighth Arrondissement. Every morning I'd take my dog for a walk to buy the International Herald Tribune and have coffee at a café around the corner. Then I'd go upstairs to the top floor, where I'd converted one of the old servant's rooms into a writing room, and write. For breaks I'd walk along the Seine and study my French lesson. Days of museums, salons du thé, and wandering the city. Living in another country gave me a different perspective on the world. I'm glad I realized there's not just one way to see things.

    While living there, I found out my mother had a brain tumor. She came to Paris to stay with me and have chemotherapy at the American Hospital. She'd never been on a plane before that trip. In spite of her illness, she loved seeing Paris. I took her to London for a week, and as a teacher of English and a lover of Dickens, that was her high point.

    After she died, I returned to France and made a pilgrimage to the Camargue, in the South. It is a mystical landscape of marsh grass, wild bulls, and white horses. It is home to one of the largest nature sanctuaries in the world, and I saw countless species of birds. The town of Stes. Maries de la Mer is inspiring beyond words. Different cultures visit the mysterious Saint Sarah, and the presence of the faithful at the edge of the sea made me feel part of something huge and eternal. And all of it inspired my novel Light of the Moon."

  • "I dedicated a book to Bruce Springsteen. It's The Secret Hour, which at first glance isn't a novel you'd connect with him—the novel is about a woman whose sister might or might not have been taken by a serial killer. I wrote it during a time when I felt under siege, and I used those deeply personal feelings for my fiction. Bruce was touring and I was attending his shows with a good friend. The music and band and Bruce and my friend made me feel somehow accompanied and lightened as I went through that time and reached into those dark places.

    During that period I also wrote two linked books—Summer's Childand Summer of Roses. They deal with the harsh reality of domestic violence and follow The Secret Hour and The Perfect Summer When I look back at those books, that time of my life, I see myself as a brave person. Instead of hiding from painful truths, I tried to explore and bring them to the light through my fiction. During that period, I met amazing women and became involved with trying to help families affected by abuse—in particular, a group near my small town in Connecticut, and Deborah Epstein's domestic violence clinic at Georgetown University Law Center. I learned that emotional abuse leaves no overt outward scars, but wounds deeply, in ways that take a long time to heal. A counselor recommended The Verbally Abusive Relationshipby Patricia Evans. It is life-changing, and I have given it to many women over the years."

  • "I became a vegetarian. I decided that, having been affected by brutality, I wanted only gentleness and peace in my life. Having experienced fear, I knew I could never willingly inflict harm or fear on another creature. All is related. A friend reminds me of a great quote in the Zen tradition: "How you do anything is how you do everything."
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      1. Date of Birth:
        September 25, 1955
      2. Place of Birth:
        New Britain, CT

    Read an Excerpt

    Chapter One


    NELL KILVERT LAY BACK ON THE GRASS, HEARING THE breeze rustle the leaves overhead. Her bikini was salt-and sun-faded, a pretty shade of rose; around her waist she wore a beach towel, still damp from her last swim. Around her ankle she wore a strip of cloth, so ragged it looked ready to fall off. Charlie had tied it there three hundred and fifty-something days ago, just before leaving Hubbard's Point for college, at the end of last summer.

    Her long hair was dark brown. She had cat eyes: green, almond-shaped, unblinking. Right now there were tears pouring down out of them, into her ears, as she stared up at the gorgeous blue sky.

    "It's so beautiful," she whispered.

    "I know. So why are you crying?"

    "Because he can't feel it . . . he'll never feel summer again."

    "Why do you come here?"

    "So I can be near him."

    The boy—his name was Tyler—stared at her. She knew he was there, kneeling beside her, but she blocked him out. She focused completely on Charlie. Closing her eyes, she could imagine him right here with her.

    The cemetery was quiet. Located behind Foley's Store, right in the middle of Hubbard's Point—between the train bridge that separated the beach from the rest of the world, and the Sound—it was filled with tall trees. And it was filled with graves. One of them was Charlie's.

    Nell lay on the ground by Charlie's headstone. She came here often, at least once a day, before or after work at Foley's, carefully timing her visits to avoid seeing his mother. Not that she didn't like Charlie's mother—Nell visited Sheridan often. They would sit quietly in the dark house, sometimes talking, sometimes not. Nell would look at the silent guitars and remember how when Charlie was young, his mother had filled their house with music. Nell craved those times with Charlie's mother, her companion in grief. But here at the grave, Nell knew Sheridan needed her own time with her son.

    "Don't you ever get spooked here?" Tyler asked, so close she could feel his breath on her forehead.

    "Why would I?" Nell asked.

    "Well, because it's a graveyard."

    "Once someone you love dies, you're not scared of graveyards," she said.

    "Huh," he said, sounding unconvinced. An old tree creaked in the breeze, making him jump. She knew he'd like to book out of there, head down to the sun and fun on the beach, but he wouldn't leave her.

    Nell had an effect on boys. It mystified her. It had started with Charlie, of course. She'd loved him as long as she'd known him. They'd spent the last few summers together, right here at Hubbard's Point. He was the wildest boy at the beach, like a mustang running free. No one had been able to tame him, no one but Nell. That's why he'd called her the Boy Whisperer. . . .

    It still fit. Even though the beach boys all knew she was still in love with Charlie, they wanted to be with her. They wanted to tell her their secrets. She thought maybe it was the whisper of tragedy that surrounded her. Her mother had died when she was young. Her father had lost it big-time, until Nell had brought him together with Stevie Moore, the artist most people considered a witch. Now Stevie was virtually Nell's stepmother, and the beach boys probably thought her witchiness had rubbed off on Nell. They dreamed of sex spells. And after Charlie's murder, the boys had come flocking even more.

    But Charlie had had the magic, too. He was the great-grandson of Aphrodite, the doyenne of Hubbard's Point beach magic. Her magic book had been the source of many of Charlie's mother's best songs, but not the inspiration for the film Charlie had wanted to make. As much as he disavowed it, Charlie had inherited his family magic; Nell used to tease him, that he had it in his kiss. The other beach boys wanted to make Nell forget Charlie's kisses. . . .

    Nell lay beside his headstone, staring down her right leg at the strip of beach towel he'd tied around her ankle last summer. It was all she had left of him. She wondered how he'd feel to know about the other boys. He'd never been the jealous type in life. He hadn't needed to be, and he still didn't now. He was her only one.

    She closed her eyes, and even with Tyler beside her, she let herself dream of Charlie. He'd been so comfortable in his own skin, in his own life. He'd wear jeans and a T-shirt, even when they were supposed to get dressed up for candlelit beach dinners at their parents' houses. Well, his mother's. His father was a no-show.

    That's what Charlie had called him. Just one of those dads who bailed on their kids, no real explanation other than the fact they didn't feel like showing up to raise their children—the opposite of Nell's dad. Charlie was casual, tough, a little hardened by growing up without a dad. He'd had to figure things out by himself.

    But oh . . . he'd figured them out so well.

    He was competent. Nell found it sexy as hell, too—the way he could do anything he set his mind to. He could fix her car, catch huge stripers, identify raptors, film equally well using digital or Super 8. He had an artist's eye but a rugged soul. His mom had gently steered him into therapy, to deal with his father's absence, and Nell knew he'd gotten into the habit of figuring himself out. He was rigorous with himself.

    He'd been so practical, while his mother and her family had been so driven by magic. His mother was in touch with the spiritual, but Charlie had insisted on staying real, right in the world as it is. It was how he'd survived the disappointment of missing a father he never really knew. His mother had made up for it the best she could, trying to heal Charlie's deep scars. And they were deep, Nell knew—but he'd learned to take care of himself.

    He'd think about things. That might sound so normal, so regular, but what eighteen-year-old boys do that? He'd really consider his choices, and if he did something he was sorry for, he'd always make it right. He was introspective while at the same time being tough. He was very physical, ran cross-country in school. He'd been captain his senior year, and he was known for taking the team on adventures.

    He'd run the team into Cockaponset State Forest, straight into the sixteen thousand acres of woods, made them find their way out. Another time he'd led them across the Connecticut River, over the catwalk beneath the Baldwin Bridge, one hundred feet up above the water.

    He'd loved the woods, he'd loved rivers, he'd loved running. And he'd loved Nell.

    They'd kiss. He'd make her tell him what felt good to her. She liked having her hair brushed, and he'd done that for her. Her big, muscular boyfriend had sat next to her, on the mattress in the attic, brushing her hair. She could almost feel it now, the way he'd kiss her neck while he was doing it. The memory made her tremble, because it felt so real and she knew it wasn't, and she knew she'd never feel it again.

    "Oh," she whispered.

    Tyler leaned over, touched her lightly. He stroked the inside of her left arm, but that's not what gave her goose bumps.

    "What are you thinking?" he asked.

    "I can't talk about it," she said.

    "Charlie, right?" he asked, sounding disappointed.

    "Of course. . . . And about where I have to be," she said, sitting up.

    Grabbing Tyler's wrist, she checked the time on his watch. Nearly four. That gave her an hour to get to her appointment—five o'clock, an hour from right now. She'd timed it for her day off from waitressing at Foley's. She'd seen the big boat come in last night. Partying at Little Beach with the other kids, she'd watched it round the Point and drop anchor off the breakwater.

    She stood up, brushing dry grass from her sweaty skin. Tyler put his arm around her, but she gave him a look and he dropped it. He stepped back, giving her a moment. She stared at Charlie's headstone, at the name and dates. It seemed impossible in ways too huge to grasp, that last summer he had been her boyfriend and so alive and so strong, and that this summer he was buried in the ground, and all that remained were words carved in stone. The breeze made her shiver.

    The shiver went deep, into her bones. She backed away, then headed toward the gravel path with Tyler, toward the beach and the boat and what she hoped would turn out to be the answer.

    ***
    SHERIDAN WORE HER OLD straw hat and yellow gloves, kneeling in the garden and digging in the earth. The soil was stony, but things grew anyway. It amazed her, the way the most beautiful flowers could take hold of so little, bloom all summer long. She grew roses and morning glories, clematis and delphinium. Day lilies, orange and yellow, bloomed along the privet hedge.

    Her favorite patch was the least showy: the herb garden. A raised stone circle, no bigger than a beach umbrella, was filled with rosemary, sage, wild thyme, mint, lemon verbena, lavender, and burnet. Her grandmother had used these herbs to make magic. Blind and unable to read, she had gotten Sheridan and her sisters to read the spells from her magic book. So many of the spells had involved plants right here in the round garden.

    Some of the herbs came back year after year: reseeded themselves, survived the harsh winter and salt wind. Others Sheridan would replant—she'd take trips to the farm stand, buy flats of herbs, and bring them home.

    Long ago, Charlie had helped her in the garden. Those times were engraved in her memory—even now, she could feel him right here with her—four years old, digging in the soil with his little spade. She could see him so clearly, laughing and pretending he was a pirate burying his treasure.

    No, sweetheart, she'd say, watching him empty his pocket, pour pennies into the hole he'd just dug. Don't bury your ice cream money. Plant the herbs instead.

    But, Mom, he'd say, pirates always bury their treasure.

    Then what will they do when they want a Good Humor?

    They'll ask their mothers to get them one!

    He'd thrown his arms around her, streaking her with mud. She hadn't minded at all. She could say that for sure—getting dirty in the garden was part of the fun. Letting him plant his spare change—it had been so adorable. They'd dig and plant and water, wedge his nickels and dimes and pennies into the soil, and then they'd head down to the beach, dive into the waves, let the salt water wash them clean.

    Or was that true? Hadn't she gotten the tiniest bit impatient with him? Maybe more than a tiny bit? Had she spoken sharply about the value of everything, wanting him to appreciate what he was given? And most of all, to grow up to be different from his absent father? She'd wanted him to know, to really understand, that people worked hard for their wages. She'd wanted him to learn to value what was important—and certainly not just money.

    Once when he was a teenager, he'd accused her of turning everything into a lesson. Why can't things just be? he'd asked. Why does everything have to add up to some big message? Does every story have to have a moral?

    "Every story doesn't have to have a moral," she said out loud now, pulling up weeds. A seagull perched on the peak of the roof, letting out a raucous cry. She ignored it, focusing on the garden.
    If anyone should know about stories not needing morals, it was Sheridan. Her songs, inspired so much by her grandmother's bright arts—love magic, the opposite of the dark arts—were about moments in time. Today, yesterday, this second, last night: specific moments of love and connection. Aphrodite's book of spells had been about lightning bolts of love: not about the whys or what-ifs.

    Her cottage overlooked the beach and bay; she had her back to the blue water. It was a bright summer day, but she couldn't wait for nightfall. Days were hard. Her son should be home for the summer, having completed his freshman year of college.

    They had loved their summers here at Hubbard's Point, and her body was still on Charlie-time. She couldn't help it; mornings, she'd wake up thinking she had to get him up for his summer job as lifeguard. He'd taken his responsibility seriously—keeping his eyes on all the swimmers. He'd especially watched all the little kids, and once an old man had needed reviving, and Charlie had resuscitated him.

    Sheridan had known what a huge heart Charlie had, and how much he wanted to help. It was almost as if his father's inattention—his abandonment—had brought out every bit of kindness and care in Charlie's being. Sheridan worked overtime to make him feel loved, trying to make up for the fact his father had never been there. She'd poured all her love into her son, so badly wanting him to turn out well adjusted, happy, self-confident, and kind. She knew how kids with absent fathers fought an uphill climb in life; the hole in their hearts where their fathers' love should have been was almost impossible to fill. She knew that such kids were at risk for bad relationships, for not being able to bond.

    But that wasn't Charlie.

    Noontime, on his break from lifeguarding, she would head for the kitchen to make him a sandwich; now, instead, she'd pour herself a drink. Afternoons, she'd think about heading down for a swim, figuring she'd see him sitting on the lifeguard chair, watching out for the swimmers. Or taking a break, racing Nell out to the raft. More drinking, less thinking.

    "Hey there."

    Looking over her shoulder, Sheridan saw Stevie Moore coming up the hill, carrying a cloth-covered wicker basket. She wore a paint-streaked smock, which, as voluminous as it was, couldn't quite cover her pregnant belly.

    "What are you doing out on such a hot day?" Sheridan called.

    "All I want to do is walk," Stevie said. "It's the strangest thing."

    "Maybe that means it's almost time . . ."

    "I'm not due for another four weeks, but have you ever seen anyone so huge?"

    Sheridan tried to smile, moving her trowel and watering can, giving Stevie a hand so she could settle herself onto the herb garden's low stone wall. Reaching into the wicker basket, Stevie pulled out an old-fashioned jar.

    "Beach plum jelly," she said, handing it to Sheridan. "I've been putting up preserves."

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    Reading Group Guide

    1. Why was Nell able to trust Gavin, not only to investigate Charlie’s death but also to understand her grief? What made him different from the others in her life?

    2. Discuss the novel’s title. What worlds were opened by Nell’s bittersweet kisses with Charlie? What changes were marked by first and last love in the other characters’ lives?

    3. Charlie was about to embark on a first-rate education in filmmaking. What did his promising career say about his personality? How did his perceptive eye affect his relationship with Nell?

    4. Discuss the role of the Rosslare women in Hubbard’s Point. How does their mystical Irish legacy play out? What are their greatest strengths and vulnerabilities?

    5. How was Charlie affected by growing up without a father? In what ways did he complete Nell, whose mother died when she was very young?

    6. What turning points are reflected in the music and lyrics that are woven throughout Last Kiss? What does Sheridan’s career mean to her, and to those around her?

    7. How do the three novel’s settings (rural Connecticut, Manhattan, and Nashville) serve as meaningful backdrops? What dreams and realities are reflected in these locales for the characters?

    8. At first, how did you interpret Nell's experiences in the cemetery? Was her hope so far-fetched?

    9. What were your thoughts as Jack and Stevie debated marriage in chapter fourteen? What was at the heart of their debate?

    10. What gave Gavin the courage to reach out, and reclaim a connection to Sheridan? Did their shared history help or hurt their ability to feel safe with one another?

    11. How did your opinion of JeffEaston Quill shift throughout the novel’s closing chapters? What motivated Randy’s actions, in New York and throughout the years leading up to that tragic night?

    12. Ultimately, who is to blame for what happened to Charlie? What would constitute justice?

    13. What conclusions were reflected by the fire? What aftermaths do you imagine for Nell, Sheridan, and Stevie?

    14. Discuss the significance of Gavin’s staying on his boat, near but not within the Hubbard’s Point community. Does it protect him and/or Sheridan, ultimately?

    15. What themes begun in Beach Girls are reflected in Last Kiss? What new directions and unpredicted outcomes unfolded for all generations?

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    See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 33 Customer Reviews
    • Anonymous

      Posted July 18, 2008

      Rush Right Out and Buy This Book!

      Having read all of Luanne Rice's other books and liked them, I expected The Last Kiss to be good. It wasn't just good, though...it was perfect. With great character development, an excellent grabs-and-keeps-your-interest plot, and a three-tissue ending that could not have been improved upon, it's a winner. If it were possible to give a novel ten stars, that's what I'd give this one.

      1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted September 16, 2012

      Loved this book.

      I just finished this book. I loved it. People who love a good romance/mystery should check it out.

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    • Posted January 26, 2012

      more from this reviewer

      No Doubt on My Recommendation - READ NOW!

      A heart touching story full of everlasting memories, and many moments that you can relate to your personal life. Nell finds herself desperate to know exactly what happened to her boyfriend, Charlie. He got murdered on a lovely night in NYC. Nell wants to know who did it, and why. She knew he was a lovely person, and she knew he had never done anything to anyone that would make them seek revenge. She hires a private detective to figure these things out. But, as the private detective remembers his past with Charlie's mom, he begins to fall in love once more. The love Charlie's mother and Gavin- the detective - had, and have for eachother is outstanding. Gavin isn't only figuring out the case for Nell, but for Charlie's mom too. The book uncovers tons of unbelievable things that will have you thinking thoroughly. And when the case is unwrapped, and they figure out what really happened, life is different in many ways forever. What will happen? What will be uncovered? Last Kiss is a must read...if you want to know what a real book is.

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    • Posted October 7, 2011

      Highly Recommended

      This book was great and I couldn't put it down! Love Luanne Rice!

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    • Posted January 20, 2010

      more from this reviewer

      Suspensful Ending!

      I fell in love with the characters, they were easy to picture and understand their personalities. I couldn't put it down when things started to unravel toward the end. I'm not saying it took that long to be caught up in it, because I was hooked in the first two chapters, just that the end had me on pins and needles.

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    • Posted August 31, 2009

      more from this reviewer

      Easy read but a big PUNCH at the end!!!!!

      This is an easy read. The characters are great and the story chilling. A good read on a hot night. I really had fun reading this one. I hpoe you enjoy!!!!

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    • Anonymous

      Posted February 2, 2009

      Not My Cup of Tea

      This is first book by Luanne Rice I have read. I felt that she spent too much time repeating the history, feelings and thoughts of her characters. About a third of the way through I just skimmed. The story started out good but could have been better if there were twists and turns to make the story more interesting. I paid full price for this book and that was too much for too little. If you must read it, find a used copy or try the library.

      0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted July 15, 2008

      The Last Kiss

      Ok so it isn't as good as Beach Girls and there are some slow parts but the last few chapters are the great Luanne Rice . The characters are so real and the emotions are very deep.I liked how she included characters from Beach Girls into the story. It helped make it more real.

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    • Posted December 9, 2008

      more from this reviewer

      an exciting investigative romance

      One year may have past since Charlie died in what the New York police determined was a random act however, his mother singer/songwriter Sheridan still grieves her loss, numbing her pain with Wild Turkey. Joining her in mourning is Charlie¿s girlfriend Nell who has worn a ragged anklet cloth he gave her 35- plus days ago just prior to the lethal mugging. Both women who adored Charlie visit his gravesite in Hubbard's Point, Connecticut regularly.---------------- Nell has doubts about the NYPD rush to judgment that her beloved was in the wrong place at the wrong time due to a bad luck occurrence. She needs to prove the cops wrong, but understands this is real life not fiction so an amateur is not successfully sleuthing. Instead she hires private investigator former Hubbard¿s Point native son Gavin Dawson to uncover the truth of what happened to Charlie. Gavin has an extra incentive as his beloved Sheridan tossed him to the curb for his youthful out of control lifestyle he prays maturity and solving the case will give him a second chance with Sheridan.------------- The return to Hubbard¿s Point (see THE PERFECT SUMMER, SUMMER¿S CHILD and SUMMER OF ROSES) is an exciting investigative romance with a touch of the paranormal and a feel of homecoming (appearances by former stars) although mourning is everywhere. The inquiry raises some intriguing questions related to Charlie¿s death, but though driven by a personal cause Gavin struggles to affirm premeditated. However, the key to the tale is Sheridan whose grief is so strong that her melancholy seems to be overwhelming Gavin¿s attempts for a second chance at love. LAST KISS is a deep character driven thriller.--------- Harriet Klausner

      0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted January 30, 2011

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      Posted September 27, 2009

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      Posted December 31, 2008

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      Posted January 13, 2011

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