2.5 Stars
Jennifer Crusie is an author that one of the nicest people I work with is constantly recommending to me. Allow me to do what I do and use some gifs to explain the difference in our personality types. If we were Disney princesses, she would be . . . .
And I would be . . . .
I just assumed my reaction to her go-to-gal would be . . . .
But then she finally wore me down and I gave Bet Me a chance and it was pretty alright so when she said this one was real good I decided it was worth the gamble. I mean, a leading lady who got her money by writing a cookbook featuring a mobster, her potential romantic interest being a hitman, a dead dognapper and a missing diamond necklace and possible five million additional bucks? What could go wrong? Well . . . . .
Seriously, that’s the gripe. This book shouldn’t even be 300 pages, let alone over 400. It’s full of over-the-top, zany, slapstick antics that make for a fun time when confined to a low page count. The longer it went, the more I felt like I was on an old Hanna-Barbera loop. Are you old enough to know what that means???? If not, it goes a little something like so . . . . .
At some point it became exhausting.
And I would be . . . .
I just assumed my reaction to her go-to-gal would be . . . .
But then she finally wore me down and I gave Bet Me a chance and it was pretty alright so when she said this one was real good I decided it was worth the gamble. I mean, a leading lady who got her money by writing a cookbook featuring a mobster, her potential romantic interest being a hitman, a dead dognapper and a missing diamond necklace and possible five million additional bucks? What could go wrong? Well . . . . .
Seriously, that’s the gripe. This book shouldn’t even be 300 pages, let alone over 400. It’s full of over-the-top, zany, slapstick antics that make for a fun time when confined to a low page count. The longer it went, the more I felt like I was on an old Hanna-Barbera loop. Are you old enough to know what that means???? If not, it goes a little something like so . . . . .
At some point it became exhausting.
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