I got a complimentary copy of this one from the author in exchange for an honest review – thank you! That fact didn’t influence my opinion in any way.
Izzy Archer, a widow, has just turned forty. Her gay friend, Jack, insists she must start dating again asap or she might remain alone and miserable forever. He even books her a place at a speed dating event which proves to be one complete disaster. Still one of the participants, a well-build police officer called Noel, noticed Izzy and even asked for her telephone number. What pity he asked Jack, not her personally. Does it mean he is really interested in her?
The dating mayhem is interrupted by a sudden death of Anna Archer, Izzy’s dead husband’s grandmother who kind of adopted Izzy as her granddaughter too. Anna was 80 – you would say it was her time to kick the bucket. However a gaggle of her friends led by the intrepid Betty decided it has to be a murder. Not without a reason – Anna was found in her recliner with a long-abandoned knitting project on her lap. The problem was she never sat in that recliner during the day and she couldn’t knit anymore because of her arthritis. Soon enough Izzy turned into a full time amateur sleuth. It didn’t hurt that Noel still wanted to date her – now she has her private if rather unwilling police liaison as well.
What will she discover, with a little help from her friends?
Why such a genre as chicklit cosy mystery exists at all? I bet just to annoy me. You might say: ”dear reviewer, you don’t have to read/accept books that annoy you”. You would be perfectly right. Still, sometimes a small, red, contradictory she-devil with long, wavy hair, red of course, and ivory horns polished to perfection whispers in my ear: “try this one, it will be fun!” Yeah. Whenever I listen things turn interesting to say the least of it.
It seemed to me all the characters of this book were made of candies. Noel was a dark liquorice hunky with some beer-flavoured filling. Izzy was a bowl of sundaes with whipped cream, almonds and prunes. Jack was made of lemon drops with a hint of mint. The gang of elderly ladies was made of multi-hued candyfloss. Even if they all were from time to time amusing and sweet like hell they weren’t real enough.
The narration was ok making this rather short novel completely readable. Still it left me yearning something more substantial. If I could lead a life of leisure, getting my goddess suntan near a pristine, aqua blue swimming pool and sipping margaritas fetched by unvaryingly handsome and immaculately dressed waiters all day perhaps I would claim Izzy’s world satisfactory, even charming. In my current condition it sounded only unreal. Oh well, you know me: ugly, grumpy and curmudgeonly even at weekends.
Still one issue, mentioned in this book, is serious and completely worth emphasizing: fracking IS completely wrong!
Two quotes (I tried to choose the funny ones) to help you make up your mind:
(Some info just so this little dialogue is clearer- Izzy mooned the whole restaurant during her first date with Noel.)
““How did you manage to do that, child? Did you forget to wear knickers?”
“I was wearing a thong,” I mumble. I’ve long been of the opinion that Grandma has selective hearing because somehow she manages to hear the word thong despite her oft issued lament that she is deaf.
“A thong,” she chortles. “Don’t you know better than to wear dental floss for underwear?””
“I search ‘how to solve a murder’ and there are, gulp, over fifty-five million responses, but are any of them useful? Besides my favorite article, which is ‘A fifteen-step explanation with pictures included’, there isn’t anything else that can be of any use.”
For avid fans of cosy mysteries and HEAs. Not for me.