My Life as A White Trash Zombie

3,92 valoración promedio
( 10.297 valoraciones por Goodreads )
 
9780756406752: My Life as A White Trash Zombie

Horror meets humorous urban fantasy in first book of the White Trash Zombie series · Winner of the 2012 Best Urban Fantasy Protagonist by the RT Awards

Angel Crawford is a Loser.

Living with her alcoholic deadbeat dad in the swamps of southern Louisiana, she's a high school dropout with a pill habit and a criminal record who's been fired from more crap jobs than she can count. Now on probation for a felony, it seems that Angel will never pull herself out of the downward spiral her life has taken.

That is, until the day she wakes up in the ER after overdosing on painkillers. Angel remembers being in a horrible car crash, but she doesn't have a mark on her. To add to the weirdness, she receives an anonymous letter telling her there's a job waiting for her at the county morgue—and that it's an offer she doesn't dare refuse.

Before she knows it she's dealing wth a huge crush on a certain hunky deputy and a brand new addiction: an overpowering craving for brains. Plus, her morgue is filling up with the victims of a serial killer who decapitates his prey—just when she's hungriest!

Angel's going to have to grow up fast if she wants to keep this job and stay in one piece. Because if she doesn't, she's dead meat.

Literally.

"Sinopsis" puede pertenecer a otra edición de este libro.

About the Author:

Diana Rowland has lived her entire life below the Mason-Dixon line. She has worked as a bartender, a blackjack dealer, a pit boss, a street cop, a detective, a computer forensics specialist, a crime scene investigator, and a morgue assistant, which means that she's seen more than her share of what humans can do to each other and to themselves. She won the marksmanship award in her Police Academy class, has a black belt in Hapkido, and has handled numerous dead bodies in various states of decomposition. She presently lives in southern Louisiana with her husband and her daughter where she is deeply grateful for the existence of air conditioning. A master of urban fantasy, she’s the author of the Demon series and the White Trash Zombie series. She can be contacted via her website, dianarowland.com, or on Twitter at @dianarowland.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter 1

“You should be dead,” the ER nurse stated as she adjusted something on my IV. She was more husky than fat, with too much eye makeup, and hair that had been dyed a nasty shade of reddish orange. When I didn’t immediately respond she glanced my way, as if to assure herself that I really was awake and aware. “You realize that, right?” she demanded. “You’re pretty damn lucky to be alive.”

“Um...okay,” I muttered. Beneath the sheet I ran a hand over my stomach, frowned. “Have I been in a coma or something?” I asked.

Her thin lips pinched together. “A coma? No. You were brought in a few hours ago.” She paused, set her hands on her hips. “You overdosed.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, shook my head. “No, I was in a car accident,” I insisted. “I remember being injured.” Didn’t I? “I was bleeding,” I added, less certain as I ran my hand over the unbroken skin of my stomach again.

She gave a dismissive snort. “There’s not a scratch on you. You must have hallucinated it.” Her eyes narrowed with contempt and disapproval. I didn’t care. I was used to seeing that when people looked at me.

Glass and blood and metal. A broken body beside me. Teeth and hunger. Gobbets of flesh ripped away....

Cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. How could that have been a hallucination? Hallucinations were strange and hazy and jumbled. I knew. I’d had a few.

Making an annoyed noise in the back of her throat, she snagged the chart from the end of the bed. “Unknown white female. Hmmm. Do you remember your name, sweetheart?” She flicked her eyes back up to me and gave me a sugary-bitchy smile that didn’t have an ounce of true concern in it.

“Yeah, I know my damn name,” I snarled. “It’s Angel Crawford.” I wanted to add, And you can write it down with the pencil that’s stuck up your ass, but I managed to hold it back. I knew that nurses had the power to make your life suck worse than it already did, and it was clear that this bitch considered me to be one step away from starring in my own loser reality show. Screw her. I was at least two steps away.

The nurse gave a sniff as if she didn’t truly believe I was smart or sober enough to know who I was. “Let’s see what all was in your system—THC, hydrocodone, alprazolam, oxycodone....” She rattled off a couple of other drug names that sounded long and scary while I scowled blackly at her. After she finished she gave me a look full of smug satisfaction, hung the chart back up and left the room in a pompous waddle before I could respond. Good thing too, because what I wanted to say to her would have been too much even for a Jerry Springer special.

My anger withered as soon as she was gone, overwhelmed by my confusion and sick fear. I lifted the sheet up to see for myself—again—that I was uninjured.
I struggled to make sense of it. I remembered the blood. Lots of it. There’d been some sort of long gash across my stomach, and I had a nauseating memory of seeing the jagged end of white bone poking from my thigh, blood pumping out and all over. But now there was nothing out of place. No scrapes, no bruises. Just perfectly normal flesh all over. A coma could explain that, right? A couple of months or so, enough time for me to heal up.

Except that I didn’t have any scars, either.

Sighing, I dropped my head back to the pillow. I hadn’t been in a coma. The nurse wasn’t lying or messing with my head.

No, I was simply a loser.

Overdose. Great. Well, this was a new low for me, and it didn’t help that it was totally believable. The only possibly shocking aspect was that it hadn’t happened sooner. I didn’t remember taking as many drugs as the bitch nurse had said, but the fact that I was in the ER was proof enough that I obviously had. The nurse hadn’t gone and altered my lab results either. I did that all by myself, the old-fashioned way.

Weary depression rolled over me as I stared at the speckled tile of the ceiling. Beyond the door I could hear the frenzy of a stretcher being wheeled by and voices raised in brief concern. I knew what would happen next. Some social worker or psychologist would come in and tell me I needed rehab or counseling or some crap like that, which was a stupid suggestion since I didn’t have money or insurance. Or worse, I’d get a seventy-two-hour commitment for “psychiatric evaluation,” since I was clearly a danger to myself, and I’d probably end up in some nasty charity ward. There was no way I was gonna put up with that. I felt perfectly fine now and more than ready to get the hell out of here.

I kicked the sheet away and slid off the bed. The tile was smooth and cold against my bare feet. I needed shoes and clothes. I was wearing the stupid hospital gown, and my own clothes were so covered with blood that I’d draw all sorts of attention if I tried to walk out in them.

I shook my head. No, the blood had been a hallucination.

There was no sign of my clothes in the room. No closets—only one cabinet and an intimidating variety of medical equipment. I started to move toward the cabinet, remembering the IV a step before I accidentally yanked it out of my arm, then spent a couple of seconds trying to decide if I could carry the bag out with me instead of pulling the needle out. Needles freaked me out, but leaving it in would probably be worse than removing it myself. Hell, that was the only reason I’d never gone for the harder drugs like heroin or meth. Too chickenshit to stick a needle into me to get that kind of high. Pills were easy. Plus I could tell myself that I wasn’t a real druggie.

Except that now I’d almost killed myself just as dead as if I’d ODed on heroin.

Pushing that unpleasant thought out of my mind, I peeled off the tape on my arm then clenched my teeth and pulled the needle out. I braced myself against the wave of nausea that always hit me whenever I saw blood—especially my own—but to my relief it didn’t hurt at all, and I didn’t feel sick. A tiny bead of blood welled up from the puncture site, and I wiped it away with the hem of my gown before I even remembered that I was supposed to be nauseated by it.

Maybe that’s why I’d hallucinated about being covered in blood? There wasn’t much that would freak me out more than that.

The door to the room opened again, startling me, and I dropped the IV line with a guilty flush as a different nurse walked in. She was a lot younger than the other one—maybe in her early twenties or so, with sleek blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and the sort of fresh no-makeup look I wished I could pull off. I looked like death without makeup, and while my hair was blonde as well, it was that way because I dyed it myself, which meant it was a frizzy, damaged mess.

Her eyes flicked to the discarded IV, but she didn’t seem to be upset that I’d removed it. “I wanted to make sure you were awake and decent,” she said with a smile that was kinder than I expected. “There are a couple of detectives here who want to talk to you.”

A frisson of terror shot through me. “Wh-why?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I knew. They were here to take me to jail. My probation officer had found out about the drug use and my probation was being revoked. Or they wanted me to squeal about where I got my drugs.

I must have gone pale because she closed the door and gave me a reassuring smile. “They only want to talk to you. You’re going to be fine. Here,” she said, gently but firmly pushing me back to sit on the bed. She didn’t make me lie back down—simply pulled the bed sheet around so that my lower body and bare feet were covered. “That’s better. I know I can’t talk to anyone with any sort of authority if I’m half-naked,” she said with a wink.

Her unexpected niceness had me a little off-balance, especially after the open hostility of the previous nurse. “Where are my other clothes?”

“You, uh, weren’t wearing any when you were brought in.”

Oh, shit
. I swallowed hard. “Did they take them off in the ambulance?” Surely it wouldn’t be as bad as if I’d—

“The cops found you on the side of the road...naked.” Her face twisted in embarrassed sympathy.

My throat tightened. “Was I—I mean, had I been...?” I couldn’t say the word.

Her eyes widened. “No!” She shook her head emphatically. “No, the doctor, um, checked. You weren’t assaulted.”

I scrubbed at my face and fought the urge to cry. Overdose and naked on the side of the road. This kept getting better and better. And not even the victim of a crime, just a stupid drugged-out skank.

The nurse made a concerned noise in her throat, reached out and gave my upper arms a firm rub. “Relax now. Everything’s going to be fine. These detectives want to have a word with you, then you’ll be ready to get out of here.” She turned and left before I could form any sort of coherent response.

Right. Everything’s going to be fine
, I thought with a sour laugh. She didn’t know. She couldn’t possibly understand why I was freaking.

I didn’t have to stew in my panic for long. No sooner had the door swung shut behind the blonde nurse than it opened again and two detectives walked in. But they weren’t probation officers or narcotics detectives. That threw me. At least I was pretty sure they weren’t narcs. Those guys usually went around in jeans and T-shirts, but these two were in dress shirts and ties. The first one in was a burly guy—at least six feet tall and stocky with a bit of a pudge working around his middle, blondish brown hair, and a scruffy-looking mustache. The second detective wasn’t as tall, but he was big in a muscled way. No pudge on him. I could tell he worked out, and hard. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and an equally dark expression on his face. Both had guns, badges, and handcuffs on their belts.

In other words, they intimidated the ever-living shit out of me simply by walking into the room.
“Ms. Crawford,” the burly one began, “I’m Detective Ben Roth and this is Detective Mike Abadie.” He cocked his head toward the dark-haired detective. “We’re with the Saint Edwards Parish Sheriff’s Office, and we’d appreciate it if you could take a couple of minutes to answer some questions for us.”

“Do I need a lawyer?” I blurted. The two men exchanged a quick glance. Oh, great. Nice way to start. Now I sounded guilty as all hell.

“That’s completely up to you, Ms. Crawford,” Detective Roth said. “But we’re only here to see if you might have witnessed anything that could help us solve a crime. You’re not under any sort of suspicion at this time.” His expression remained serious but his eyes were kind. At least, I wanted to believe that. The other detective looked like he had a permanent scowl on his face. Maybe they were about to play good cop bad cop on me. It would probably work, too. I always fell for that psychological shit. Especially when I was confused and stressed. Like right now.

I gripped the sheet in my hands. “Uh, sure. What...um, what crime?”

Detective Abadie cleared his throat. “You were found on Sweet Bayou Road right off Highway 180.” His lips pressed together and I could see the same derision in his eyes that I’d seen in the red-haired nurse’s. Maybe he didn’t know why I was in here, ’cause of privacy laws or whatever, but he sure as hell had his suspicions.

“Okay,” I said, doing my damnedest to not hunch under his gaze. “If you say so.”

“At about the same time,” he continued, eyes hard and flat, “a body was found a few miles further down Sweet Bayou Road. It had been decapitated.”

“Wh-what?” I said, staring at him in horror.

“Decapitated. It means that his head was chopped off,” he explained, tone thoroughly patronizing.

A sudden burst of anger managed to burn away a good portion of the panic and fear that had been controlling me up until then. “I know what ‘decapitated’ means,” I replied with a scowl. “But I don’t know anything about this. I sure as hell didn’t do it!” The two men exchanged another quick glance and a sliver of the fear came back. “You don’t think I did it, do you?”

Detective Roth shook his head firmly. “You’re not a suspect at this time, Ms. Crawford. However, right now you’re the only possible witness we have. Anything you can remember might be useful.”

I swallowed. At this time. He kept saying that. In other words I sure as shit hadn’t been ruled out, even though I knew there was no way I would have chopped some guy’s head off—no matter how high I might have been.

So why did I remember blood...?

I took a shaking breath. No. There was no way. I wasn’t a killer. “Sweet Bayou Road?” I asked, stalling for time to get my thoughts into something other then a jumbled mess.

“That’s where you were found,” Detective Roth said patiently. “What do you remember?”

“I...don’t know.” Sweet Bayou Road was only about five minutes down the highway from where I lived, but there wasn’t a whole lot on it. A few fishing camps near the end, and the rest of it was several miles of desolate and twisty road through the marsh. “I mean, I was at Pillar’s Bar with my boyfriend. We had a fight and...” I rubbed my eyes, odd flashes of the hallucination swimming through my head.

Blood and pain...I thought I was dying. No, I died. But then I was hungry. Starving-to-death hungry....


I took an unsteady breath. “Then I was out on the road, and there was an ambulance.”

I was arguing with the paramedics after they got me into the ambulance, begging for something to eat because I was so damn hungry. Maybe that’s why I didn’t walk into the stupid white light. Maybe I knew they wouldn’t have anything to eat down that way.


“I must have passed out.” I looked up at the two men. “Then I woke up here. Sorry.”

No pain. No hunger. No clue.


Detective Abadie let out an exasperated snort. “Why were you out there?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I was trying to walk home.” Walking home from the bar would definitely rank as one of the more boneheaded things I’d done in my life. In other words, totally believable. And somewhere along the way I’d decided to strip naked. That must have been one helluva high.

Detective Roth tugged a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I need you to think real hard, Angel. Did you see anyone? Any cars? Someone walking along the road?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, hunching my shoulders. “I didn’t see anyone.”

Fatigue and disappointment etched itself across Detective Roth’s face. “All right, Miss Crawford. If you think of anything else—anything at all—please give me a call.” He pulled out a business card and handed it to me.

“Yeah, sure thing,” I said, obediently taking the card.

A sour expression twisted Detective Abadie’s mouth. “C’mon, Ben,” he muttered. “We’re wasting our time.” He turned and stalked out. I couldn’t even get annoyed at his reaction. I had been a waste of their time.

Detective Roth let out a low sigh but gave me a tired smile. “I appreciate your talking to us, Miss Crawford,” he said. “I hope you get to feeling better.” Then he too was out the door, and I was alone in the room once again.

Wrung out and depressed, I dropped the card into the wastebasket. This day couldn’t get much worse.

...

"Sobre este título" puede pertenecer a otra edición de este libro.

Los mejores resultados en AbeBooks

1.

Rowland, Diana
Editorial: DAW (2011)
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Paperback Cantidad: 1
Librería
patcat books
(Fort Worth, TX, Estados Unidos de America)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción DAW, 2011. Paperback. Estado de conservación: New. New; 1.1 x 6.61 x 4.17 Inches; 320 pages. Nº de ref. de la librería 27897

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 3,05
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: EUR 3,11
A Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

2.

Diana Rowland
Editorial: DAW BOOKS, United States (2011)
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Paperback Cantidad: 10
Librería
The Book Depository US
(London, Reino Unido)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción DAW BOOKS, United States, 2011. Paperback. Estado de conservación: New. Original. Language: English . Brand New Book. Horror meets humorous urban fantasy in first book of the White Trash Zombie series - Winner of the 2012 Best Urban Fantasy Protagonist by the RT Awards Angel Crawford is a Loser. Living with her alcoholic deadbeat dad in the swamps of southern Louisiana, she s a high school dropout with a pill habit and a criminal record who s been fired from more crap jobs than she can count. Now on probation for a felony, it seems that Angel will never pull herself out of the downward spiral her life has taken. That is, until the day she wakes up in the ER after overdosing on painkillers. Angel remembers being in a horrible car crash, but she doesn t have a mark on her. To add to the weirdness, she receives an anonymous letter telling her there s a job waiting for her at the county morgue--and that it s an offer she doesn t dare refuse. Before she knows it she s dealing wth a huge crush on a certain hunky deputy and a brand new addiction: an overpowering craving for brains. Plus, her morgue is filling up with the victims of a serial killer who decapitates his prey--just when she s hungriest! Angel s going to have to grow up fast if she wants to keep this job and stay in one piece. Because if she doesn t, she s dead meat. Literally. Nº de ref. de la librería AAS9780756406752

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 6,24
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: GRATIS
De Reino Unido a Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

3.

Rowland, Diana
Editorial: Daw Books, Inc., New York, New York (2011)
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Mass Market Paperback Cantidad: 1
Librería
Meggie's Books
(Laurel, MD, Estados Unidos de America)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción Daw Books, Inc., New York, New York, 2011. Mass Market Paperback. Estado de conservación: New. No Jacket. Daniel Dos Santos Ilustrador. Later Printing. The book is stored in a Mylar bag. "Angel Crawford is a loser". Size: 0.9 x 4.1 x 6.8 inches. Nº de ref. de la librería 000998

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 3,51
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: EUR 3,39
A Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

4.

Rowland, Diana
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Cantidad: 3
Librería
Paperbackshop-US
(Wood Dale, IL, Estados Unidos de America)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción 2011. PAP. Estado de conservación: New. New Book. Shipped from US within 10 to 14 business days. Established seller since 2000. Nº de ref. de la librería KB-9780756406752

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 3,55
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: EUR 3,39
A Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

5.

Rowland, Diana (Author)
Editorial: Penguin Random House
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Cantidad: > 20
Librería
INDOO
(Avenel, NJ, Estados Unidos de America)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción Penguin Random House. Estado de conservación: New. Brand New. Nº de ref. de la librería 0756406757

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 4,08
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: EUR 2,98
A Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

6.

Diana Rowland
Editorial: DAW BOOKS, United States (2011)
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Paperback Cantidad: 10
Librería
The Book Depository
(London, Reino Unido)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción DAW BOOKS, United States, 2011. Paperback. Estado de conservación: New. Original. Language: English . Brand New Book. Horror meets humorous urban fantasy in first book of the White Trash Zombie series - Winner of the 2012 Best Urban Fantasy Protagonist by the RT Awards Angel Crawford is a Loser. Living with her alcoholic deadbeat dad in the swamps of southern Louisiana, she s a high school dropout with a pill habit and a criminal record who s been fired from more crap jobs than she can count. Now on probation for a felony, it seems that Angel will never pull herself out of the downward spiral her life has taken. That is, until the day she wakes up in the ER after overdosing on painkillers. Angel remembers being in a horrible car crash, but she doesn t have a mark on her. To add to the weirdness, she receives an anonymous letter telling her there s a job waiting for her at the county morgue--and that it s an offer she doesn t dare refuse. Before she knows it she s dealing wth a huge crush on a certain hunky deputy and a brand new addiction: an overpowering craving for brains. Plus, her morgue is filling up with the victims of a serial killer who decapitates his prey--just when she s hungriest! Angel s going to have to grow up fast if she wants to keep this job and stay in one piece. Because if she doesn t, she s dead meat. Literally. Nº de ref. de la librería AAS9780756406752

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 7,17
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: GRATIS
De Reino Unido a Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

7.

Rowland, Diana
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Cantidad: 5
Librería
Pbshop
(Wood Dale, IL, Estados Unidos de America)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción 2011. PAP. Estado de conservación: New. New Book.Shipped from US within 10 to 14 business days. Established seller since 2000. Nº de ref. de la librería IB-9780756406752

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 3,81
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: EUR 3,39
A Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

8.

Diana Rowland
Editorial: DAW (2011)
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Mass Market Paperback Cantidad: 1
Librería
Murray Media
(North Miami Beach, FL, Estados Unidos de America)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción DAW, 2011. Mass Market Paperback. Estado de conservación: New. Never used!. Nº de ref. de la librería 0756406757

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 5,60
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: EUR 1,69
A Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

9.

Diana Rowland
Editorial: DAW BOOKS, United States (2011)
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos Paperback Cantidad: 10
Librería
Book Depository hard to find
(London, Reino Unido)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción DAW BOOKS, United States, 2011. Paperback. Estado de conservación: New. Original. Language: English . This book usually ship within 10-15 business days and we will endeavor to dispatch orders quicker than this where possible. Brand New Book. Horror meets humorous urban fantasy in first book of the White Trash Zombie series - Winner of the 2012 Best Urban Fantasy Protagonist by the RT Awards Angel Crawford is a Loser. Living with her alcoholic deadbeat dad in the swamps of southern Louisiana, she s a high school dropout with a pill habit and a criminal record who s been fired from more crap jobs than she can count. Now on probation for a felony, it seems that Angel will never pull herself out of the downward spiral her life has taken. That is, until the day she wakes up in the ER after overdosing on painkillers. Angel remembers being in a horrible car crash, but she doesn t have a mark on her. To add to the weirdness, she receives an anonymous letter telling her there s a job waiting for her at the county morgue--and that it s an offer she doesn t dare refuse. Before she knows it she s dealing wth a huge crush on a certain hunky deputy and a brand new addiction: an overpowering craving for brains. Plus, her morgue is filling up with the victims of a serial killer who decapitates his prey--just when she s hungriest! Angel s going to have to grow up fast if she wants to keep this job and stay in one piece. Because if she doesn t, she s dead meat. Literally. Nº de ref. de la librería BZV9780756406752

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 7,54
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: GRATIS
De Reino Unido a Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

10.

Rowland, Diana
Editorial: DAW
ISBN 10: 0756406757 ISBN 13: 9780756406752
Nuevos MASS MARKET PAPERBACK Cantidad: 1
Librería
Qwestbooks COM LLC
(Bensalem, PA, Estados Unidos de America)
Valoración
[?]

Descripción DAW. MASS MARKET PAPERBACK. Estado de conservación: New. 0756406757. Nº de ref. de la librería Z0756406757ZN

Más información sobre esta librería | Hacer una pregunta a la librería

Comprar nuevo
EUR 8,01
Convertir moneda

Añadir al carrito

Gastos de envío: GRATIS
A Estados Unidos de America
Destinos, gastos y plazos de envío

Existen otras copia(s) de este libro

Ver todos los resultados de su búsqueda