Книги, похожие на «Rachel Cohn, Dash And Lily's Book Of Dares: the sparkling prequel to Twelves Days of Dash and Lily»

Buried under the ocean, deep within the Bermuda Triangle, lies a treasure worth killing for.Having already lost two men in her life to the lure of the bounty beneath the sea, Samantha Carlyle wants nothing to do with treasure hunts. She wants to be left in peace to run her dive resort on Seafire Isle. But unexplained events continue to happen. Adam O’ConnorSamantha’s ex-loverarrives unannounced on the tiny island.Samantha becomes the target of an attempted kidnapping. And she’s beginning to realize that none of the resort’s guests are who they claim to be. Caught in an undertow of lies and murder, Samantha confronts the secrets that have, for centuries, been drawing men to their watery graves. And she realizes that the little she knows about the lost treasure is more than enough to get her killed.

Family begins with a capital eff.I’m wondering how many more f*cking ‘phases’ I have to endure before my children become civilised and functioning members of society? It seems like people have been telling me ‘it’s just a phase!’ for the last fifteen bloody years. Not sleeping through the night is ‘just a phase.’ Potty training and the associated accidents ‘is just a phase’. The tantrums of the terrible twos are ‘just a phase’. The picky eating, the back chat, the obsessions. The toddler refusals to nap, the teenage inability to leave their beds before 1pm without a rocket being put up their arse. The endless singing of Frozen songs, the dabbing, the weeks where apparently making them wear pants was akin to child torture. All ‘just phases!’ When do the ‘phases’ end though? WHEN? Mummy dreams of a quirky rural cottage with roses around the door and chatty chickens in the garden. Life, as ever, is not going quite as she planned. Paxo, Oxo and Bisto turn out to be highly rambunctious, rather than merely chatty, and the roses have jaggy thorns. Her precious moppets are now giant teenagers, and instead of wittering at her about who would win in a fight – a dragon badger or a ninja horse – they are Snapchatting the night away, stropping around the tiny cottage and communicating mainly in grunts – except when they are demanding Ellen provides taxi services in the small hours. And there is never, but never, any milk in the house. At least the one thing they can all agree on is that rescued Barry the Wolfdog may indeed be The Ugliest Dog in the World, but he is also the loveliest.