I love Gail Giles.
Dead Girls Don't Write Letters is a very loose version of the prodigal son story. Sunny's older sister, Jazz, died in a fire a few months ago. Their dad starts drinking, their mom falls apart, and Sunny (except for the whole parents=crazy thing) is actually pretty happy. Everyone else had seen Jazz as this beautiful, vibrant and wonderful girl. Only Sunny knew that she was actually the devil—manipulative, selfish and just plain horrible. But then, Sunny gets a letter from Jazz. And she's coming home.
I read this book in about 45 minutes. And it was a good thing that the house wasn't burning down or anything, because I wouldn't have moved until I was done. Now I have to track down Playing in Traffic. After I've read that one, I'll just have to sit around and wait until she writes another one.