<B>That's what friends are for</B> These women are friends for life, and they have the pact to prove it. But one of the friends, Rachel Benjamin, is now wondering if the pact they made may have triggered a death in Jennifer Sturman's droll feast of wittiness and wedding-interruptus, <B>The Pact</B>. Investment banker Rachel is hot on the trail of whoever did in Emma's disgustingly obnoxious, why-did-she-pick-him groom-to-be. Suspecting Peter Forrest, the unfortunate's best man, would be a whole lot easier if Rachel didn't find him so deliciously dishy, but the only other suspect would have to be one of her girlfriends, and that just won't do. First-time novelist Sturman gives readers a delightful update on the cozy, mannered realm of Agatha Christie in this tale set at an isolated (of course!) retreat in the Adirondacks, with just the right added fillip of spice and saucy banter. <I>Sandy Huseby writes from her homes in Fargo, North Dakota, and lakeside in northern Minnesota.</I>

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