Yikes! The Chocoholic series have come a full circle for me. Maybe the very first modern cozy mysteries I've read, it has now become a one star book, at the tail-end of my readership of the genre, through no planning on my part. I remember the first book of the bunch I had read. It made a positive impression on me. At the time I thought that the genre was tailor made for me.
But the habit of writers to keep on prolonging the franchise became an irritation with me. Even the best authors cannot keep on churning out these books without some damage, erosion, dilution, some type of loss occurring. This fourteenth book was empty of any decent plot worth the name. There were some eccentric and inappropriate sentences in the book, which I attribute to the advancing age of the author.
Someone might have told JoAnna Carl not to kill off too many people in her stories. Killing off a whole community of them would not have saved this story if tension, conflict, suspense, and motives were absent from the book. Even at 240 pages, it was sometimes a chore to read through the book. You know, reading these types of books has one positive effect on me. They make me want to write something. Not because I think it's easy to write a novel, but because after giving a drab story one star, I need to prove that I was not gabbing for nothing, that I'm not asking for the impossible by demanding a good simple story to delight the senses and sharpen the mind. Anyway, I'm Luffy, former cozy mystery fan, signing off.