As Good as Dead: The Finale to A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder Hardcover – September 28, 2021 by Holly Jackson

> > SKU: 0593379853


{464 pages}

PUB : September 28, 2021

$18.99 $12.64

5 in stock



Author: Jackson Holly

Color: Black

Package Dimensions: 42x217x430

Number Of Pages: 464

Release Date: 28-09-2021

Details: Product Description

The highly anticipated finale to the A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder series, the instant New York Times bestsellers that read like your favorite true crime podcast or show. By the end of this mystery series, you’ll never think of good girls the same way again…

Pip is about to head to college, but she is still haunted by the way her last investigation ended. She’s used to online death threats in the wake of her viral true-crime podcast, but she can’t help noticing an anonymous person who keeps asking her:
Who will look for you when you’re the one who disappears?

Soon the threats escalate and Pip realizes that someone is following her in real life. When she starts to find connections between her stalker and a local serial killer caught six years ago, she wonders if maybe the wrong man is behind bars.

Police refuse to act, so Pip has only one choice: find the suspect herself—or be the next victim. As the deadly game plays out, Pip discovers that everything in her small town is coming full circle . . .and if she doesn’t find the answers, this time she will be the one who disappears. . .

About the Author

Holly Jackson is the author of the #1 New York Times bestseller, A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder. She started writing stories at a young age, completing her first (poor) attempt at a novel when she was fifteen. She graduated from the University of Nottingham, where she studied literary linguistics and creative writing, with a master’s degree in English. She enjoys playing video games and watching true-crime documentaries so she can pretend to be a detective. She lives in London. Follow Holly on Twitter and Instagram at @HoJay92.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Dead-eyed. That’s what they said, wasn’t it? Lifeless, glassy, empty. Dead eyes were a constant companion now, following her around, never more than a blink away. They hid in the back of her mind and escorted her into her dreams. His dead eyes, the very moment they crossed over from living to not. She saw them in the quickest of glances and the deepest of shadows, and sometimes in the mirror too, wearing her own face.
And Pip saw them right now, staring straight through her. Dead eyes encased in the head of a dead pigeon sprawled on the front drive. Glassy and lifeless, except for the movement of her own reflection within them, bending to her knees and reaching out. Not to touch it, but to get just close enough.
“Ready to go, pickle?” Pip’s dad said behind her. She flinched as he shut the front door with a sharp clack, the sound of a gun hiding in its reverberations. Pip’s other companion.
“Y-yes,” she said, straightening up and straightening out her voice. Breathe, just breathe through it. “Look.” She pointed needlessly. “Dead pigeon.”
He bent down for a look, his black skin creasing around his narrowed eyes, and his pristine three-piece suit creasing around his knees. And then the shift into a face she knew too well: he was about to say something witty and ridiculous, like–
“Pigeon pie for dinner?” he said. Yep, right on cue. Almost every other sentence from him was a joke now, like he was working that much harder to make her smile these days. Pip relented and gave him one.
“Only if it comes with a side of mashed rat-ato,” she quipped, finally letting go of the pigeon’s empty gaze, hoisting her bronze backpack onto one shoulder.
“Ha!” He clapped her on the back, beaming. “My morbid daughter.” Another face shift as he realized what he’d said, and all the other meanings that swirled inside those three simple words. Pip couldn’t escape death, even on this bright late-July morning in an unguarded moment with her dad. It seemed to be all she lived for now.
Her dad shook off the awkwardness, only ever a fleeting thing with him, and gestured to the car with his head. “Come on, you can’t be late for this meeting.”
“Yep,” Pip said, opening the door and taking her seat, unsure of what else to say, her mind left behin

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