Girls Just Wanna Have Guns
Read Girls Just Wanna Have Guns Online
Authors: Toni McGee Causey
Praise for Toni McGee Causey’s novels
GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE GUNS
“If you’re a fan of Stephanie Plum, this is a treat for you. Bobbie Faye is another wise-cracking gal with a knack for getting in trouble. The novel is fast-paced, while the mystery keeps you guessing. If you’re up for a fast-paced book . . . this is one you won’t want to miss.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Causey roared into the book world with Bobbie Faye . . . and now takes readers on another thrilling roller-coaster ride in this fast, feisty, and ferociously funny novel.”
—Booklist
“Toni McGee Causey doesn’t just write. She takes prisoners. She grabs you by the heart and the funny bone and carries you off into a world of captivating characters that are a whole bunch of crazy and twice as much fun. Don’t try to sleep—you’ll be laughing too loud.”
—Marshall Karp, author of
The Rabbit Factory
“Janet Evanovich, move over. Toni McGee Causey just gave us Bobbie Faye, and we’re loving her.”
“If you’re in the mood for something fresh, edgy—and often downright hilarious as Bobbie Faye shares her take on life, love and the world in general—then you won’t go wrong with [this] sassily written, high-spirited caper brimming with marvelously eccentric characters, crackerjack plotting, non-stop action, and plenty of regional Cajun flavor, a spicy blend that will leave readers begging for the next installment.”
—BookLoons
“A fast-paced, can’t-put-it-down novel full of great chases, lots of gun play, and steamy scenes . . . The dialogue is quick, witty, sarcastic, and laugh-out-loud funny . . . A cross between Carl Hiaasen and Dave Barry, Toni McGee Causey has a unique style that is a blast to read. I can’t wait to get my hands on the next adventure starring Bobbie Faye.”
—Romance Junkies
“Bobbie Faye Sumrall is BACK! Toni McGee Causey has brought back the ever-crazy Bobbie Faye and taken her to new heights (literally)! Once again chaos meets laugh-your-pants-off humor, in the very best of ways. I can only say that I hate (CAN’T WAIT) to see what Toni (and Bobbie Faye) are up to next!”
—Romantic Inks
CHARMED AND DANGEROUS
“This hyperpaced, screwball action/adventure with one unforgettable heroine and two sexy heroes is side-splittingly hilarious. Causey, a Cajun and a Louisiana native, reveals a flair for comedy in this uproarious debut novel.”
—Library Journal
(starred review)
“There are many things to love about this book—the plot, the pacing, the dialogue . . . think
Die Hard
in the swamp. And Bobbie Faye? She’s a titanium magnolia.”
“It’s about time women had an Amazon to look up to . . . Bobbie Faye is a hurricane-force heroine who makes this novel the perfect adventure yarn.”
—Tampa Tribune
“Bobbie Faye is Southern, eloquent, kick-ass, highly accomplished, and just plain nuts.”
—Harley Jane Kozak,
author of
Dating is Murder
“Hold on for the ride, Bobbie Faye is 100% pure adrenaline. Causey has penned a laugh-out-loud nonstop thriller.”
—Allison Brennan,
USA Today
and
New York Times
bestselling author of
The Prey
,
The Hunt
, and
The Kill
“The tears are still running down my cheeks from laughing. Oh, my. What talent. What verve. What NERVE!”
—Gayle Lynds,
New York Times
bestselling author
of
The Last Spymaster
“DO NOT miss reading [
Charmed and Dangerous
]. Oh, and remember to breathe. The action is so fast, the characters are hilarious and the laughter so rampant that you really do need to remind yourself to breathe . . . The South could rise again with this woman at the helm (unless she blows it up first).”
“Toni McGee Causey will have you laughing out loud as her insane characters take you on a ride of pure chaos. This book could only be described as a roller-coaster ride with dynamite!”
“Move over, Stephanie and Bubbles, you’ve got major competition tracking north from the Deep South . . . Bobbie Faye Sumrall is out to capture both the hearts of spunky women everywhere and the minds of men ready for a challenge.”
—
Deadly Pleasures
“This is an action-comedy novel that will delight fans of the Ya Ya/Sweet Potato Queens genre. The pacing of the book will take your breath away.”
—
The Advocate
“If you like Stephanie Plum, you’ll love Bobbie Faye Sumrall! She’s a one-woman catastrophe and absolutely hilarious.”
—Alesia Holliday,
USA Today
bestselling author
of
American Idle
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by
Toni McGee Causey
Charmed and Dangerous
Girls Just Wanna Have Guns
When a Man Loves a Weapon
(coming in August)
Wanna Have Guns
Toni McGee Causey
St. Martin’s Paperbacks
NOTE:
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Girls Just Wanna Have Guns
was previously published in trade paperback under the title
Bobbie Faye’s (kinda, sorta, not exactly) Family Jewels.
GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE GUNS
Copyright © 2008 by Toni McGee Causey.
Excerpt from
When a Man Loves a Weapon
copyright © 2009 by Toni McGee Causey.
Cover photo © Herman Estevez.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2008009286
ISBN: 0-312-35850-4
EAN: 978-0-312-35850-1
Printed in the United States of America
St. Martin’s Griffin edition / June 2008
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / July 2009
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Mom and Dad
Genius has its limitations.
Insanity . . . not so much.
—bumper sticker,
Lake Charles, LA
Bobbie Faye Sumrall was full up on crazy, thank you very much, and had a side order of cranky to spare. The bank—citing the picky little reason that it didn’t want to lend money to people who were routinely shot at—said
no
to a loan for a new (used) car. It wasn’t like she’d ever been hit by an actual bullet, for crying out freaking loud. Immediately after that, she couldn’t get an insurance company to give her a quote for a start-up business grant application she needed to turn in. (Three insurance giants had gotten restraining orders as soon as they heard who was calling.) (Wusses.) And then the FBI guy she’d been blistering hot and bothered about had dropped off the planet two weeks earlier, and geez, there was only so much rejection a girl could take. She needed to have one night, one measly little night, to sleep well. That wasn’t too much to ask, right?
Apparently, the Universe thought it was.
Bobbie Faye and the Universe were like warring spouses locked in an eternal battle, trying to blow each other up rather than admit the other was savvier. (The Universe, by the way? A big fat cheater.)
Still, she tried. She went through her nightly routine: she squeezed into the tiny bathroom of her small, almost-not-ratty trailer, fantasizing about actual hot water while she grabbed a tepid shower. To wind down, she poured herself some juice and nibbled on crackers. (Yeah, her luck was solid. The juice tasted like it had gone bad. And not
the good “fermented” kind of gone bad.) Thankfully, her five-year-old niece, Stacey, had been invited to spend the night at a friend’s house. No matter how much she loved the little rugrat, she was grateful that tonight there wouldn’t be fourteen billion attempts to hogtie the kid into bed for a whole five minutes of sleep before Stacey bounced up again, determined to drive Bobbie Faye out of what little was left of her mind.
When Bobbie Faye did finally stretch out on her lumpy twin mattress, she sank into disturbing, hallucinogenic dreams—all disjointed, a half-step two-step out of rhythm, bits and pieces swirling in a kaleidoscope of confusing colors. At one point, she saw herself as if from afar and damn, she looked odd. She could have sworn her boobs were off-kilter, like one was higher than the other, but maybe it was just that striped, butt-ugly shirt she was wearing, the one she’d won back in high school in that dumb “spirit week” contest. She was twenty-freaking-eight years old; why couldn’t her subconscious mind be a team player and clothe her in something über cool and sexy? And why did her long and normally loose-flowing brunette hair look so . . . strange? It seemed all wrong. It was stiff, like she’d emptied a can of hair spray and shellacked it into a helmet.
Great. Bad dream
and
bad hair. Just perfect. But at least she wasn’t bald, like that little schlumpy guy she was talking to.
Oh. Wait. Make that the schlumpy pot-bellied guy she was shooting.
Why in the hell was she shooting this guy? Five times. Damn, but it was a beautiful pattern. At least her dream got that part right. She leaned over the man as he stared at her off-kilter boobs, saying something about them not being real. The jerk.
He didn’t remind her of anyone she knew. Stupid subconscious. Why couldn’t it at least let her pretend to take out one of the jerks driving her insane? Mr. No-Extension-For-You IRS Guy would have topped her list. Or maybe Nick Lejeune, the local bookie who kept placing odds on
her every move. (Would she wreck today before or after noon? Would she inadvertently blow something up or would it be on purpose? Would she be in jail on her birthday?) He was making a fortune and not even giving her a cut.
But no . . . the dead guy in this dream wasn’t the least bit familiar. Bobbie Faye watched herself as she picked up all of the dropped casings, felt for a pulse on the dead guy, and wiped her fingers on her hideous shirt. Then the images churned, and wind rushed at her, tangling her hair, buffeting her arms spread wide open as if she were flying under the streetlights in the small commercial district of her tough, no-nonsense industrial hometown of Lake Charles, Louisiana.
When she woke up, she had a raging headache and her mouth was painfully dry. She peeled her eyes open, and
holy fucking shit
.
