This book is as flat and full of holes as the main character's constant waffle breakfasts. The premise was a great idea that failed to deliver. The characters are just awful.
Lena London reads like a crisp gothic heroine-meets-teenaged Disney character. She's all over the map, and it's not good. Her speech betrays her real age to be somewhere between age 16 and 96. "oh boy!" "gosh darn it!" This was awful.
She notes others' rudenesses and faux pas, but says ridiculous things to strangers herself. She even throws a handful of nuts at a cop just because she doesn't like what he has to say during a legitimate investigation. She becomes instant friends with a stranger -- someone who basically remains an obnoxious stranger, who then just disappears from the book.
Her best friend reads like someone who is 12 years old and adds no value or depth.
The mentor, Camilla, is cliche but tolerable.
The goons are typical goons, but everyone in this town wears turtlenecks making it hard to discern where the real (fashion) criminals lurk. The mystery part of it was kind of dumb.
At the end, we still don't have any idea who Lena is, or why we'd want to follow her into further adventures.
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I have to note some details here to illustrate my frustration. Lena wants to jump directly into bed with someone -- out of the blue -- but her actions and words belie a certain kind of naiveté throughout the book that makes this scene hard to believe. (e.g She claims she has no idea what pot smells like, and lectures a stranger on the dangers of smoking.) I can't reconcile what world Lena lives in: you want me to believe she is so daring and forward with her (sudden) sexuality, but still such a prude in everything else?
Another example is how she is always shoveling food down her throat. It's so distracting. Anything she gets her hands on, everywhere she goes, she eats! She even remarks (often) with much shame about her gorging. I got carb bloat myself just reading a few chapters.
I picture a dowdy busy body with no social skills, and yet all the men in town seem to swoon at her feet. Especially the rich, successful one who is oozing charm experience and taste? And then Norse-God cop too? Bah! Love triangle... And when she does get one, she becomes psycho-clingy: constant texts, face touches, rooting through his garbage, and, of course, that time she sent him a pizza to say she was thinking of him. *eyeroll*
The only real relationship she seems to have is with her cat, whom she talks to all the time but does nothing but purr and sleep in return. (Is there a point to that cat sidekick?)
For a mystery series, characters' observations are chirpy and often pointless, leading to nothing. Lena's "keen, writer's" instincts seem terrible, misleading. She seems to lack all life experience despite the author's weak attempt to give her a background or some sort of personality...
The reader simply can't believe/ trust her as a guide.
Disappointment - beginning, middle and end. Cardboard has more flavour. I only read it all because the book was blissfully short. I won't continue this series.
So many people loved this book here, and all I can say is ...no. Why?!