In the Garden of Spite: A Novel of the Black Widow of La Porte [Hardcover] Br...

Description: Product Description “Riveting! Camilla, high-five! Amazing work!”—Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark, #1 New York Times bestselling authors of Stay Sexy & Don't Get MurderedAn audacious novel of feminine rage about one of the most prolific female serial killers in American history--and the men who drove her to it.They whisper about her in Chicago. Men come to her with their hopes, their dreams--their fortunes. But no one sees them leave. No one sees them at all after they come to call on the Widow of La Porte.The good people of Indiana may have their suspicions, but if those fools knew what she'd given up, what was taken from her, how she'd suffered, surely they'd understand. Belle Gunness learned a long time ago that a woman has to make her own way in this world. That's all it is. A bloody means to an end. A glorious enterprise meant to raise her from the bleak, colorless drudgery of her childhood to the life she deserves. After all, vermin always survive. Review "Riveting! Camilla, high-five! Amazing work!"—Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark, the #1 New York Times bestselling authors of Stay Sexy & Don't Get Murdered"In the Garden of Spite is a chilling, pitch-perfect novel that should finally make Belle Gunness a household name. A superb and unforgettable read."—Deanna Raybourn, New York Times bestselling author of A Murderous Relation"Mesmerizing...Fans of fictionalized treatments of notorious murderers will be fascinated."—Publishers Weekly, Starred Review"Bruce uses a framework of fact to create fiction that horrifies...[a] grisly historical thriller."—Booklist About the Author Camilla Bruce is a Norwegian writer of speculative and historical fiction. She co-founded micro-press Belladonna Publishing, where she served as an editor on two anthologies. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1. Brynhild Selbu, Norway, 1877 The smell of meat drove me out of the storehouse to rest against the timbered wall. My head was spinning and I felt sick. It had happened often lately. "You should be careful, Little Brynhild." Gurine came outside as well, climbing slowly down the stone steps while wiping her hands on her apron. She was chewing on something: a piece of mutton. The old woman had become scrawny over the winter; age had sucked all the fat away, leaving her a bony frame and wisps of white-gray hair. She followed my gaze across the farmyard to the six men who stood by the barn. It was a cold but sunny morning in May; the birches in the yard were budding and the horses grazed in the pasture. One of the men, a farmhand called Ivar, told a story while gesturing wildly with his hands. All the others laughed. They were far enough away that we could not hear what he said, but we could certainly hear the laughter: hard peals of mirth hauled through the air. For a moment, I thought they were looking at me, but if they did, their gazes shifted away before I could be certain. "They are not to be trusted, the young ones," said Gurine. "Like bucks in heat, the lot of them." She spat gray gristle down on the grass. "He can't deny me forever," I said, although I was not so sure about that. I could not make myself stop looking at him, standing there laughing with his head thrown back. His dark, thick hair curled out from under his knitted cap, he looked healthy and strong, and his cheeks blushed red in the chill morning air. His hands were buried deep in his pockets. I knew those hands well, could feel the ghost of them on my skin even as I spoke. "I can make him do it, even if he says no." Even if things had changed between us, I still held out hope that I would know those hands once more. I found it hard to believe that all was lost. "You put too much trust in the priest, Little Brynhild. He was never a friend to women like us," Gurine said. "Women like us?" I glanced at her. "Women with nothing to their names." "Well, he doesn't much like sinners either. I will talk to the priest a

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End Time: 2024-12-27T19:33:23.000Z

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