The Dead Husbands Society

<p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Hi. I'm Birdie Lawson.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>I used to run the PTA plan polite birthday parties and write thank-you notes on monogrammed stationery. Then my husband dropped dead in the butterfly garden and my picture-perfect suburban life went with him.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>If you too have a dead husband questionable coping skills and an inconvenient crush on your late husband's infuriatingly hot ex-best friend who happens to be your mailman... pull up a chair. You're one of us now.</span></p><p></p><p><strong style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>The Dead Husbands Society</strong></p><p><em style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>No dues. No dress code. Bring snacks. We're tired of casserole</em><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Perks of membership:</span></p><ul><li><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Two wildly inappropriate widow friends</span></li><li><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>A pink glitter notebook full of grief dares (most dares include the hot mailman)</span></li><li><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Questionable recovery tactics.</span></li><li></li></ul><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>I'm done with well-behaved mourning. Now I'm here for messy living-complete with a Conga line an ill-advised goat wine bar and forbidden late-night kisses with the man I should absolutely not want... but absolutely do.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>Please join us. We have t-shirts and kombucha.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(15 17 17 1)>The Dead Husbands Society: A wickedly funny unexpectedly sexy novel about grief friendship and letting yourself fall hard-for life and your mailman all over again.</span></p>