2008/12/31
Author: James Patterson and Maxine Paetro
Synopsis:
The Women’s Murder Club faces an unspeakable horror in the most gripping medical and legal thriller in years. A young mother is recuperating in a San Francisco hospital when she suddenly gasps for breath and dies. Doctors are completely mystified as other recovering patients inexplicably become deadly ill. Accompanied by the newest member of the Women’s Murder Club, Yuki Castellano, Lieutenant Lindsay Boxer probes deeper into the deaths. Is a maniac playing God? When someone close to her begins to exhibit the same frightening symptoms, Lindsay fears no one is safe. But the hospital is determined to shield its reputation at all costs. And while it wages a court battle that grips the entire nation, Lindsay and the Women’s Murder Club must hunt a merciless killer.
From the back of the book
The Women’s Murder Club series from James Patterson are fun and quick reads. Seriously, most chapters are about 2 pages long. Well, probably just 1 if you count the blank space at the top for the chapter indicator and the blank space at the bottom of the next page where the chapter text ends. These super short chapters make it easy to keep reading because it is always easy to read “just one more chapter”.
I like that women are the main characters in the series and that they are tough gals in powerful careers, yet still have feminine sides.
This particular book had an easy-to-follow, yet pretty intriguing plot. Is it memorable? No, not really. (Thus the reason that I post about books I read on here, so I don’t end up buying them again only to find I’ve already read the book.) But I wouldn’t hold that against the book either, light entertainment serves a purpose too!
My rating: 3.5 stars
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2008/12/29
- I hate crumbs on my counters. I hate crumbs on counters period. It annoys me when people set bread directly on the counter to make a sandwich and then leave crumbs behind. It annoys me when I am seated at a restaurant table and there are crumbs left behind. The people that brush the crumbs off the table at nicer restaurants: they are my friends.
- I hate getting food on myself. I refused to let my husband feed wedding cake to me on our wedding day because he couldn’t “make any promises” that cake wouldn’t end up in my hair or ears. I still remember a time when my mom got in a food fight with her brothers at a family gathering, there was Diet Coke and watermelon flying all over; even as a kid the thought of watermelon on my head grossed me out. At my friend’s wedding she and her husband decided to pull a fast one on me and the best man. They convinced us to stand there holding a sheet over my friend’s dress under the guise of helping to protect her clothes from the ensuing cake fight. That was really just a ploy to get us standing right next to them so they could smash cake into our faces and clothes. Yuck…
- You know how in movies they have food fights among family members and it is an event they all seem to laugh and enjoy? You know how in other movies they start throwing dishes in rage but then end up destroying all kinds of things and it is a good stress reliever and they end up having a good chuckle at the end of this? I never enjoy those scenes because the whole time I’m sitting there thinking, “That’s going to suck so much when they have to clean that mess.”
- Sometimes my husband makes me very uncomfortable as he snacks while sitting on the couch. I’m always concerned he’ll spill something, but even the little crumbs that he drops bother me. This usually happens while we’re watching TV or a movie and makes it so I can’t relax, watching out of the corner of my eye for him to drop something else. But this concern is justified, he has greeted me several times with this type of statement, “Hi, Welcome Home! The good news is that it didn’t stain…”
You know, realizing all this kind of freaks me out. It makes me feel like I’m on the fast track to becoming my grandmother. I remember as a kid being required to stand in one spot in her kitchen whenever we wanted to eat popsicles and even some candies so we didn’t spill in her house. When I had my little nose incident, my grandmother had a professional cleaning crew there before I was even out of the hospital.
I gotta learn to loosen up. Just don’t smash any food on me to get me there, alright?
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On the outside, I try to project an image of having it all together. But underneath that, I'm kind of a disaster. Hence... the name of the site: GlossyVeneer. 
