Sasha is a bit more experienced now. The book opens with the case:
“So these women get paid to have sex with men?” I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.”And with that, Sasha is off on the case of the beautiful, but missing, Mary Carmen. She visits the underside of a hooker’s life as well as the much better life in Candace’s bordello. But it’s not easy finding a hooker who does not want to be found. It’s also dangerous, as she realizes when a very disturbing pimp turns up dead. The book moves fast, from clue to clue, hooker to hooker, danger to more danger.
“Sasha, I know it sounds bad, but it’s not what you think,” said Candace, the expertly coiffed, perfectly groomed madam of the first bordello I’ve even been inside.”
There are light moments - Sasha’s just that kind of girl. Even if you’ve never had to pretend to be a hooker, you can relate to Sasha and her aching feet after wearing way too high heels and her despair at seeing how street hookers have to live. Like most of us, Sasha is often broke or near to it, yet investigation requires money, both over and under the table.
You can find Dead Light District at:
You can also check Jill Edmonson’s website to find a list of stores in Canada where the book is available.
Each book in this series develops Sasha as a person and each makes her more relatable to readers. She’s not familiar with this life that she’s investigating, but she’s not judgmental and recognizes that a life is a life, no matter what that person is doing with their life. I give Dead Light District a rating of Hel-Yeah.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~FTC Disclaimer: This book was signed and sent to me by the author, Jill Edmondson. That did not influence my review. I was influenced by Sasha. She’s relatable to all ages, even though she has a lot more energy and spunk than me. By reading her tale, I could live vicariously - I could drink copious amounts, be brave enough to talk my way into just about anything, wear high heels for longer than two steps, go without sleep, and fit in whether it’s at a fancy restaurant or a two-bit flea bag hotel. Okay, that last part is not quite the truth. I could fit in at a two-bit flea bag hotel. I’m just too chicken to go there.