On my way from El Paso to New York City I accidentally left my kindle in my checked bag. With 15 minutes and a selection of about 15 bestsellers to choose from it came down to either Evanovich or The Lost City of Z. Reasoning that I'd have a better chance of finishing Evanovich on the plane, I chose her. I've always been curious about Stephanie Plum.

Three stars probably don't do Evanovich justice - she's really funny, her characters are awesome, and she creates a really great world which feels both real and far more entertaining than the real world at the same time.

I love that she weaves flirtations and moments of real friendship and familial tenderness through what's essentially an amateur-sleuth mystery and I love her spunky failed-bounty-hunter character. Details like - she loves peanut butter to the point of absurdity and - she has a hamster - endear the character to me.

The real problem was that I started to see the end coming a mile away and even though I didn't know exactly who done it or what exactly they done I sensed that it would just all get tied up without any real revelations and she would go home with the right guy and no-one we care about would actually die.

It was about as suspenseful and entertaining as an episode of My Name is Earl. And I like My Name is Earl, but it's not the kind of entertainment that I usually look for in a book, perhaps because it's a kind that television does so well.