One for the Money (Stephanie Plum, #1)

by Janet Evanovich

The clock on the dash told me I was seven minutes late, and the urge to scream told me I was home.

This is probably a pretty universal reaction to visiting your parents once you’ve moved out. It has nothing to do with how much you love them, miss them or enjoy their company. It has everything to do with knowing that you aren’t leaving the house without the leftover ham and who knows what else. It’s knowing that whatever personal hell you have going on, it will be the first question out of your mother’s mouth. My parents were pros at these things, and somewhere along the line the torch was passed. It’s like a superpower awoke in me. I now have the pleasure of seeing my own adult kids sitting in the car, fearing leftovers and questions about when I’m getting more grandkids.