When a dinner party guest is found dead, it’s up to Sarah Booth Delaney to bring the murderer to justice—before she’s the next one on the chopping block. “An entertaining mix of mystery and mirth.”— The Orlando Sentinel It’s so true about the best parties—the morning after is always murder. . . . Private investigation isn’t on the list of a southern belle’s most desirable accomplishments—but it’s saved Sarah Booth Delaney’s Delta homestead. Now all she has to cope with is its bossy antebellum ghost who is determined to save Sarah Booth—from spinsterhood. Then comes the perfect social occasion: Lawrence Ambrose’s dinner party. . . . Ambrose, once a famous man of southern letters, is planning a comeback: a delicious tell-all with a bitchy ex-model as his “biographer.” As he taunts his dinner guests with the news that his book will blow the lid off Zinnia’s darkest secrets, it becomes plain that each and every guest has a secret—and wants Ambrose to keep it. When the morning-after mess includes a bloody corpse, and the manuscript of the biography disappears, Sarah Booth goes digging for answers. But many who hold them are six feet under—or soon will be—and if she doesn’t tread carefully, she could join them any day now. . . . “An entertaining mix of mystery and mirth.” — The Orlando Sentinel “ Buried Bones is a par excellence regional mystery that is loaded with local color, atmosphere, and describes the lifestyle of a small post-antebellum southern town. . . . A great paranormal mystery.” — Midwest Book Review Private investigation isn't on the list of a southern belle's most desirable accomplishments--but it's saved Sarah Booth Delaney's Delta homestead. Now all she has to cope with is its bossy antebellum ghost who is determined to save Sarah--from spinsterhood. Then comes the perfect social occasion: Lawrence Ambrose's dinner party... Buried Bones Ambrose, once a famous man of southern letters, is planning a comeback: a delicious tell-all with a bitchy ex-model as his "biographer." As he taunts his dinner guests with the news that his book will blow the lid off Zinnia's darkest secrets, it becomes plain that each and every guest has a secret--and wants Ambrose to keep it. When the morning-after mess includes a bloody corpse and the manuscript of the biography disappears, Sarah Booth goes digging for answers. But many who hold them are six feet under--or soon will be--and if she doesn't tread carefully, she could join them any day now... Private investigation isn't on the list of a southern belle's most desirable accomplishments--but it's saved Sarah Booth Delaney's Delta homestead. Now all she has to cope with is its bossy antebellum ghost who is determined to save Sarah--from spinsterhood. Then comes the perfect social occasion: Lawrence Ambrose's dinner party... Buried Bones Ambrose, once a famous man of southern letters, is planning a comeback: a delicious tell-all with a bitchy ex-model as his "biographer." As he taunts his dinner guests with the news that his book will blow the lid off Zinnia's darkest secrets, it becomes plain that each and every guest has a secret--and wants Ambrose to keep it. When the morning-after mess includes a bloody corpse and the manuscript of the biography disappears, Sarah Booth goes digging for answers. But many who hold them are six feet under--or soon will be--and if she doesn't tread carefully, she could join them any day now... Carolyn Haines  is the author of the Sarah Booth Delaney Mysteries, including  Greedy Bones, Bone Appetit , and  Bones of a Feather . She is the recipient of both the Harper Lee Distinguished Writing Award and the Richard Wright Award for Literary Excellence. Before writing fiction, she worked for several years as a journalist, and first visited the Delta, the setting for her mysteries, to do a newspaper story on Parchman State Prison. Born and raised in Mississippi, she now lives in Alabama on a farm with more dogs, cats, and horses than she can possibly keep track of. Chasing the blues away is a talent Delaney women are still trying to  acquire. Perhaps our melancholy is a sign, as Jitty insists, of  some obscure womb disorder. Regrettus Wombus, a medical term for  the regretful womb, resulting in the deep-dark, down-and-ugly blues. Historically, Delaney women have been known to wallow in that  place where loss takes up more space than any other organ. I fear I'm  no exception to the family tradition. There wasn't a radio station in the small Mississippi town of Zinnia that  wasn't playing "I'll Be Home for Christmas." It is my belief that any song  mentioning chestnuts, toasty fires, or sleigh rides for two should be banned from the airwaves. It's a fact, documented in my psychology journals, that  suicide rates increase during the holidays. Due, no doubt, to the sadistic  disc jockeys playing these songs. With the conclusion of my first case, I'd received payment in full from  Tinkie for my investigative services. D