Now, as regular visitors to this blog may know: I have a little Janet Evanovich problem.
Problem in that ever since reading her novel Lean Mean Thirteen over the summer I’ve been obsessed. Not just with the wit, wisdom, and the joy of la Evanovich’s writing; but also with learning how the hell she does it.
For those not in the loop Janet’s heroine is Stephnie Plum, a New Jersey bounty hunter with a talent for destroying anything she drives, and anyone assigned to protect her.
In this, you’ve guessed it, ninth book of the series, Stephanie’s got:
… rent to pay, people shooting at her, and psycos wanting her dead every day of the week (much to the dismay of her mother, her family, the men in her life, the guy who slices meat at the deli … the list goes on). An ordinary person would cave under the pressure.
But hey, she’s from Jersey.
To the Nines isn’t my favourite of the series so far. And yet I feel I learned as much from reading this novel as from reading Janet on top of her game.
So I don’t like the plot? So I guessed who the serial killer was>
The point is there are too many laugh out loud moments to care about such minor details.
Will I be trawling through Malvern library looking for my next Evanovich fix?