One For the Money Review

I like the cover of this. Very 1950s-mystery-thriller. That being said, it isn't the right one.
One For The Money is about a woman named Stephanie Plum who is out of a job and selling her furniture off one by one to feed herself and her hamster Rex. She ends up working for her Uncle Vinnie and becoming a Bounty Hunter, the worst one ever. Hilarity ensues. If you've ever seen Dominoe imagine her opposite. R-E-V-I-E-W T-I-M-E
Review: This series, to me, reminds me of those little pecan pinwheels my momma used to get when I was a kid. They were small and one wasn't really enough, but by golly they were tasty and not good for you at all. Now if you ate nothing but the the pinwheels you would surely turn into a fat slob and possibly suffer a sugar coma. Well, with this series, it's the same. One definitely isn't enough, so be prepared to want more. But if all you read is Evanovich, your brain will surely suffer for it. Not to say it isn't witty, because it is. It just doesn't edify your mind intellectually, or your soul spiritually.
Evanovich also feels no need to beautify anything. She makes me want to stay the hell away from Jersey. But I like the fact that she didn't try to make Plum overly sexy and girly girlish. She's not too cool or confident, not too smart, but not too dumb. She doesn't shoot three bad guys as she jumps through the air after a major explosion happening just yards away. Actually she kind of hate guns. And is more afraid of herself with a gun then the baddies she's chasing.
I'm not going to bother with a theory, it is just what it claims to be and there are no deeper meanings. Here are some quotes:
"As a backup, I intended to get a quart of defense spray. I wasn't much good with a gun, but I was bitchin with an aerosol can."

Now this book was published in 1994, and in this quote it is painfully obviously so.. "I took a shower and spent some time on my hair, doing the blow-drying thing, adding some gel and some spray. When I was done I looked like Cher on a bad day. Still, Cher on a bad day wasn't all that bad. I was down to my last clean pair of spandex shorts. I tugged on a matching sports bra that doubled as a halter top and slid on a big, loose, purple T-shirt with a large, droopy neck over my head. I laced up my hightop reeboks, crunched down my white socks, and felt pretty cool."

Yup, I remember feeling pretty cool in my white turtleneck and sweatshirt in elementary school. And the bad fashion train moved forward slowly but surely creaking and screeching all the way through my teen years.
Wrap up time: Good vacation books. Or if you can't go anywhere: mental-vacation books.