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Veronica Mars has 8 entries in the series. Veronica Mars (Series). Book 1. Robert Thomas Author Jennifer Graham Author (). cover image of Mr Kiss and. May 1, - Book review of Veronica Mars: The Thousand-Dollar Tan Line by Rob Thomas and Jennifer Graham from S. 3 days ago - Taking. Get Free Read & Download Files Veronica Mars Books PDF VERONICA MARS BOOKS - In this site isn`t the same as a solution manual you buy in a book .
Flea markets. No notes for slide. All rights reserved. Now it's spring break, and college students descend on Neptune, transforming the beaches and boardwalks into a frenzied, week-long rave. When a woman claims that she was brutally assaulted in one of its rooms and left for dead by a staff member, the owners know that they have a potential powder keg on their hands. Be the first to like this.
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Embeds 0 No embeds. No notes for slide. Rob Thomas Publisher: Vintage Pages: Paperback Brand: Publication Date: The buildings were all sun-bleached and dingy, the roads speckled with potholes that sent the van bucking on its worn-out shocks. Frank Kozlowski was a junk dealer, just like his old man had been. But every so often he found something really good. In a town like Neptune, where the wealthy always had more than they knew what to do with, a guy with wheels and initiative could make out like a bandit.
High-end furniture that just needed reupholstery or refinishing; designer clothes with minor stains and tears. These kids kept the mortgage paid and the fridge stocked with beer. He drove slowly through the rain, alert for any kind of glimmer from the underbrush. A rosary swayed back and forth from his rearview mirror, almost in time with the wipers.
In the passenger seat, his little wire-haired mutt, Gus, sat at attention, ears pricked forward.
It was just after seven a. But the business was like that. Some mornings were a bust.
Other mornings, the junk fairy lit a path at your feet and led you to something special. Not so much the promise of cash as that into-the-red spike of adrenaline, the thrill of the next big find. The way a single magic discovery could vindicate a hundred shitty, wasted trips.
She always groaned when he came back with rusted, filthy roadside dross.
Flea markets. Thrift shops. This stuff is worthless. The word—the very idea—left him dumb-struck. Nothing was worthless.
Not if you knew who needed it. Not if you knew how to salvage it. Still, that road went both ways. Now it was just him and Gus and a restless, edgy energy that sent him pacing from room to room and woke him in the pre-dawn chill, hounding him out of the house and into the junkyards and abandoned buildings fringing Neptune.
He never thought to call the feeling grief. Now, cruising along the empty road, his mind drifted. Gus would need a bath too, after the rain and mud. He eased his van onto the shoulder and killed the engine.
The road banked sharply downward toward a lot fringed with buckwheat and sumac, a scraggly patch of land with a faded for sale sign nailed to a post. The sign had been there at least a decade. A box of dog-eared Playboys. A six-foot fiberglass cheeseburger from a long-defunct drive-through. Gus jumped lightly out of the van and took off running, his tail flailing right and left. Kozlowski stepped out after the dog, slamming the door behind him.
Icy needles of rain stung his cheeks and neck. He hunched his shoulders against the cold, his boots sinking down in the mud. But then he found it again—a dirty pink shape, half hidden in the sedge. A dress form, perhaps a mannequin?
His heart gave the familiar little stutter that almost always meant a good score. Worth getting wet for? The incline was steep and slippery. He edged his way down, leaning back to keep from going ass-over-teakettle. Gus scampered ahead of him and then paused at the base of the hill, shaking water from his coat.