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Blowout (FBI Series #9) [NOOK Book]

Overview

A long weekend in the Poconos is interrupted by murder, and FBI agents Savich and Sherlock must look thirty years into the past to stop the killing.


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Blowout (FBI Series #9)

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Overview

A long weekend in the Poconos is interrupted by murder, and FBI agents Savich and Sherlock must look thirty years into the past to stop the killing.


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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
The Barnes & Noble Review
Secrets, surprises, and suspense are the hallmarks of the novels in Catharine Coulter's bestselling series of contemporary FBI thrillers. That has been true ever since The Cove came out in 1996, with its chilling story of a woman on the run and the FBI agent who saved her.

Coulter's Blowout heralds the return of handsome, perceptive Detective Ben Raven (from Blindside) of the Metropolitan Police Department in Washington, D.C., working again with the ever-popular FBI couple, Lacey Sherlock and Dillon Savich. Raven is less than pleased when his federal agent friends ask him to team up with investigative reporter Callie Markham in their new case involving the brutal murder of a Supreme Court justice who happens to be Callie's stepfather. And it soon becomes clear that the crafty killer isn't about to stop at one victim, no matter how highly placed.

With the press keeping a spotlight on the growing peril in the nation's capital, Savich must also come to grips with a more elusive case he came upon by chance. Following a minor traffic accident while on vacation in the Poconos, Savich encountered a desperate young woman who pleaded for his help and led him to the scene of a violent crime…only to disappear. When Savich goes to the local authorities, he's told that everything he "witnessed" took place almost 30 years earlier -- a revelation supported by evidence (or lack of it) when he returns to the scene and finds that the elegant house he'd searched before was now a ramshackle shell. But that doesn't mean Savich can forget the fear that haunted the woman who came to him for help…or change her need for justice. Sue Stone

Publishers Weekly
The latest in prolific novelist Coulter's series of FBI thrillers once again features high-powered husband and wife team Dillon Savich and Lacey Sherlock. In the middle of a long-awaited vacation with their young son, the two are called to investigate the heinous midnight murder of a Supreme Court Justice, committed in the Court's library despite tight, round-the-clock security. Known as a moderate, Justice Stewart Califano was undoubtedly contemplating an upcoming case involving the death penalty for psychopathic juveniles when he was brutally garroted, his fingers sliced off as he struggled to escape. The FBI is aided in the case by the CIA, Secret Service and metropolitan police as well as by the judge's stepdaughter, an investigative reporter for the Washington Post. Yet within 48 hours, two of the Justice's young law clerks are murdered in the same grisly fashion-the lovable Daniel strangled with his own St. Christopher medal chain, and the formidable Eliza killed while she's on the phone with Savich. An unrelated supernatural side plot is distracting, and the case's solution comes from out of left field, but fans of the author's fictional duo will get their fix-the climactic face-off takes place in Savich and Sherlock's own living room. Agent, Robert Gottlieb. (June 15) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Married FBI agents Savich and Sherlock end their vacation when a judge is killed. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781101214848
  • Publisher: Penguin Group (USA)
  • Publication date: 2/22/2005
  • Series: FBI Thriller , #9
  • Sold by: Penguin Group
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 368
  • Sales rank: 13,132
  • File size: 372 KB

Meet the Author

Catherine  Coulter
Catherine Coulter is the author of sixty-five novels, almost all of them New York Times bestsellers. She earned her reputation writing historical romances, but in recent years turned her hand to penningwith great successcontemporary suspense novels. The Cove spent nine weeks on The New York Times paperback bestseller list and sold more than one million copies. The Maze was Coulter's first book to land on The New York Times hardcover bestseller list.A review of The Maze in Publisher's Weekly stated that it "was gripping enough to establish Coulter firmly in this genre." Coulter continues to live up to that promise with twelve more New York Times bestselling FBI thrillers, including her most recent title Whiplash. Coulter's 15th FBI thriller Split Second will be released in 2011.



Catherine Coulter's first novel, The Autumn Countess, was published at the end of 1978 when she had just reached puberty. It was a Regency romance because, as she says, "as any publisher will tell you, it's best to limit the unknowns in a first book, and not only had I grown up reading Georgette Heyer, but I earned my M.A. degree in 19th century European history."



Following The Autumn Countess (a Gothic masquerading as a Regency, she says), Catherine wrote six more Regency romances. In 1982, she published her first long historical, Devil's Embrace. She has continued to write long historicals, interspersing them with hardcover contemporary novels, beginning with False Pretenses in 1988.



She pioneered the trilogy in historical romance, each of them very popular. They include: Song, Star, Magic, Night, Bride, Viking, and Legacy trilogies. She enjoys trilogies because she doesn't have to say good-bye to the characters and neither do the readers.



Catherine grew up on a horse ranch in Texas. She graduated from the University of Texas and received her masters at Boston College. Prior to becoming a full-time writer, she worked on Wall Street as a speechwriter for a company president. She loves to travel and ski, reads voraciously, and has a reputation for telling jokesbelieving the publishing business is too crazy not to laugh. Catherine lives in Marin County, California with her physician husband and her three cats.



Catherine Coulter loves to hear from readers. You can e-mail her at ReadMoi@aol.com.





Biography

The author of dozens of bestsellers, Catherine Coulter made her Romance debut with 1978's The Autumn Countess, a fast-moving story she describes as "a Gothic masquerading as a Regency." Six more Regency romances followed in quick succession; then, in 1982, she penned her first full-length historical novel, Devil's Embrace. She counts several trilogies among her most popular historicals, notably the Bride Trilogy -- which, in turn, spawned an ongoing story sequence featuring the beloved Sherbrooke family of Regency-era England.

In 1988, Coulter tried her hand at contemporary romance with a twisty little page-turner called False Pretenses. Her fans ate it up and begged for more. Since then, she has interspersed historicals with contemporary romantic thrillers (like the novels in her bestselling FBI series) in one of the most successful change-ups in the history of romance publishing.

Good To Know

Suspense writer Catherine Coulter tells us her top ten sleuths and her top ten heroes. We think you'll be as intrigued by her answers as we were ...

TOP TEN SLEUTHS:
Hercule Poirot
Jane Marple
Columbo
Inspector Morse
Jack Ryan
Indiana Jones
Pink Panther
Sherlock Holmes
Sid Halley

TOP TEN HEROS:
Harry Potter (Every Single Book)
Colin Firth as Darcy
S.C. Taylor from Beyond Eden
Lucas Davenport
Dillon Savich
James Bond (Sean Connery)
Jack Bauer
John McClain (All Die Hard)
Shrek (l & 2)
Arnold Schwarzenegger

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1
POCONO MOUNTAINS
NEAR BLESSED CREEK, PENNSYLVANIA
FRIDAY EVENING

IT WAS DARKER than Savich was used to, what with no city lights within fifty miles. The moon was a sharp sickle, cutting in and out of bloated black clouds. He rolled down the window and sniffed the air. Snow was coming, he thought, lots of it, more than enough to build a snowman with Sherlock and Sean in the morning; then the three of them could tramp through the beautiful woods filled with spruce and pine to Lake Klister.

Savich started singing one of his favorite country-western songs, written by his friend James Quinlan, as he drove the straight road with snowcapped boulders and stands of thick trees on his left and a guardrail on his right. "A blameless life ain't no fun at all. I robbed that bank, laughin' till my belly hurt, till I-"

When there was a sudden pop, loud as a shotgun blast, he flung himself to the side in automatic reaction. The pop was followed by the hard slap of rubber against the asphalt. A blowout, a damned blowout. The Subaru's steering wheel jerked in his hands as the car's back end lurched wildly to his left. He gently eased the car into the skid and let up on the accelerator, but the Subaru's momentum lunged it into a snowbank. Despite his seatbelt, his head slammed against the steering wheel, stunning him for a moment. Then everything was quiet. Savich raised his head, shook it, hoped he hadn't hurt himself, and slowly climbed out of the car. The back driver's-side tire had blown.

All in all, he preferred the snowbank to going through the guardrail. He buttoned up his coat, wrapped his scarf tight about his neck, and cleared snow from beneath the left front wheel. Satisfied, he climbed back in and put the gear in reverse. The Subaru hardly hesitated, just backed right out, leaning heavily to the left. Savich climbed out again and collected the spare tire and jack. He called Sherlock, told her what had happened, told her he'd be about twenty minutes late.

The grocery bag from Lew's Friendly Staples, in the small town of Blessed Creek, had spilled over. Lew's Staples, he thought, was really for tourists; Lew was expensive, but his little store was open nearly 24/7 and that was what counted for everyone from out of town, that and the fact that the cabin where he, Sherlock, and Sean were staying for a long weekend was only ten miles away. He picked up a bunch of wizened carrots off the passenger-side floor, for the snowman's nose. The quart of two-percent milk for Sean hadn't burst open, unlike the lovely big watermelon, an unexpected find in the middle of January, in a nearly empty produce bin in a grocery store the size of his dining room. It had splatted open, drenching the microwave-popcorn box.

He wasn't about to clean it up now, but it didn't look too bad, maybe even most of it salvageable. As he jacked up the rear end of the car, he thought the watermelon looked rather like the cabin they had borrowed from Savich's boss, Jimmy Maitland, who regularly loaned it out to his friends and his college sons-it had taken them two hours of scrubbing before the cabin was habitable again.

It didn't take him long to change the tire. He was fastening down the last lug nut when he heard something. He turned to see a woman burst out of the trees twenty feet ahead of him, running directly at him, waving her arms wildly, screaming something he couldn't understand. Her hair was long, dark, and straight, flying back as she ran. Her face was stark white beneath the pale sickle of moon that suddenly shone down through the dark heavy clouds. She was still screaming when she reached him, her breath hitching. Words he couldn't understand bulleted out of her mouth.

He was on his feet in an instant. "It's all right. It's okay, you've found me. I'm an FBI agent. It will be all right." He left his SIG in his belt harness for now. She was so terrified she was heaving, speaking fast and high, hysteria smearing her words like thick grease. "The man, he's in the house! He's trying to kill me. Oh God, help me!"

She threw herself against him. Savich was startled for just a moment, then he took her arms and gently drew her close, patting her back. She wasn't wearing a coat, not even a sweater, only what appeared to be a light summer dress, with thin straps. "It's all right," he said against her hair. A young woman, not more than thirty, he thought, but so frightened she would collapse if she didn't calm down. He tried to soothe her, but it wasn't working. She kept saying over and over again, her voice breaking, her terror slamming him in the face, "The man, he's in the house, he's trying to kill me. You've got to help me!"

The same words, over and over, nothing specific, no names, nothing more than what she'd said since she'd run out of the woods. Her voice was hoarse now, but her hysteria kept building. Her eyes were dark, wild and terrified.

He clasped her face between his hands and looked right in her face. "Listen to me. I'm a cop. You're going to be all right. I'll protect you. Just tell me, where do you live?"

"Over there." She threw a wild hand in the direction off to their left.

"All right, is the man still there?"

"Yes, yes, he's there, he wants to kill me."

"It's okay, just hold yourself together. I'm going to call the sheriff."

"No, please, please, help me now, you've got to, take me back to the house, the man's there, please! Help me!"

"Why do you want to go back there if someone is trying to kill you?"

"Please, you've got to take me back. You've got to get him, stop him. Please!"

Savich drew back, held her arms in his hands and stared down into her white face. Her eyes were very dark, and her face was so white he thought she was going into shock. "The sheriff," he said, but she jerked away from him and began running away, off the main road.

He caught her in an instant. She fought, sobbing, the wild frenzy bubbling out of her, until he said, "All right. I'll take you back home. You can trust me. No, don't try to move. But it would be stupid for me to go there with you alone. I'm calling for help."

He held her by one arm, pulled out his cell and punched in 911. She made no move to get away. She stood docile and quiet beside him, saying nothing. The phone didn't work. But that made no sense. He'd spoken to Sherlock just a half hour before, calling from the very same spot. He tried again. The cell was dead as those shriveled carrots he'd just bought. It made no sense. He tried one final time. Nothing. What was he to do? "My cell doesn't work. It doesn't make sense."

"You've got to help me." He looked down into her white face. There was no choice. He could haul her into the car and drive to the sheriff's office, but he knew in his gut that she'd fight him like a madwoman. He saw her urgency, her fear, pumping off her in vicious waves. "Listen to me. I'll take you back to the house. It will be all right. Come back to the car with me." He put the groceries back in the bag and moved the bag to the backseat. He picked up the watermelon and heaved it into the trees, then helped her into the car and fastened her seatbelt. She whispered thank you a dozen times, maybe more, over and over. In that moment, there was no doubt in his mind that someone was trying to hurt her. He shook his head at the vagaries of fate. All he'd wanted was a nice long weekend where he could go for walks in the woods with his wife and his son, teaching him how to tell a spruce from a pine, and now he was back on the job. He turned the heater on high, but she didn't seem to notice. She didn't even seem to be cold.

"Where do you live?"

She pointed to a side road, up off the main road, to the right. "Up there, please hurry. He's going to kill me, he's waiting, he'll-"

Savich turned onto Clayton Road, narrow, but nicely paved. "This is the way?" She nodded. "Please, hurry, hurry-" She was heaving for breath, gasping. He drove in the middle of the road. Snow was piled up around them.

He drove around a corner to see a large house on a gentle rise to the left, lights shining from the windows on the first floor.

"That's it, yes, that's my house, please hurry, please God, you have to hurry-"

"Yes, we're here. I want you to stay here-"

But she was out the door, running to the front door, shouting over her shoulder, "Hurry, hurry, hurry! You've got to stop him!"

Savich pulled out his SIG, caught up with her, and grabbed her arm. "Slow down. This man-do you know him?"

She said nothing, wildly shook her head, sending her hair flying, and kept repeating, "Hurry, hurry!"

The front door was unlocked. Savich held her behind him as he opened the door, swinging his gun from side to side. He saw nothing, heard nothing.

He nearly lost her as she tried to jerk free, but he held her, saying, "Where's the living room?"

She seemed more terrified now than before, her pupils wildly dilated, and she was sobbing, incapable of speech. She pointed to the right.

"All right, it's okay, we're going in the living room." He moved slowly, carefully, fanning his SIG in every direction.

There was no sign of anyone. Nothing. It seemed to be an empty house except for the two of them.

There was a lovely fire burning in the fireplace, so she couldn't have been gone long. It was warm in the large room, even cozy, with all the lamps lit against the blackness and the bitter cold outside.

"Listen to me," he said, easing her down onto the sofa. "No, don't say anything, just listen. I want you to stay right here, do you understand?"

Her mouth was working, and he was afraid she was going to fold in on herself, but she slowly nodded.

"Don't move. I mean it. I want you safe, so don't move from this sofa. I'm going to search the house. If you see anyone or hear anyone, yell as loudly as you can, all right?"

Again, she nodded.

Savich looked back at her once again before he left the living room. She was sitting frozen, her hands on her knees, looking straight ahead at nothing in particular. One of the thin straps of her summer dress had fallen off her shoulder. Summer dress?

The house was large, one room opening into the next. Every single light was on, and why was that? Who would want to hide in a lighted room? He walked through the dining room and into the large kitchen, then into a mudroom. From the right side of the wide hallway, he looked through a library, a study, a half bath, and a small sitting room that looked like an old-fashioned woman's space, with a small writing desk, a plush love seat, and a lovely Persian carpet on the wood floor. There were lots of file cabinets in the room, and an old typewriter. There was no one lurking anywhere. He checked every inch of the first floor.

The man, the killer, whoever he was, was gone, and that made sense, of course. She'd escaped him to find help. The man knew that and had run himself. Savich walked quickly back to the living room. She was sitting right where he'd left her, her hands still on her knees, still staring, this time into the fireplace.

"There's no one here, at least on the first floor. The man probably ran away when you escaped. Now, you've got to tell me more. Who is this man? Do you know him? Why is he trying to kill you? Are you certain it's not a burglar, and you surprised him? He tried to kill you and you ran? Was he chasing you?"

She didn't make a sound. Slowly, she turned to look up at him. Then she looked up at the ceiling.

It was then he saw the wedding ring on her finger. Where was her husband? "You've got to talk to me, Mrs.-?"

She kept looking upward. Savich frowned as he looked up at the ceiling as well. It was a good nine, ten feet up, with handsome old-fashioned dark molding.

Suddenly, a noise sounded overhead, a thump of sorts, solid, loud, like a man's heavy footsteps, or perhaps a piece of furniture someone had knocked over. But how had she known even before he'd heard anything?

Savich felt a spurt of fear so strong his breath caught in his throat. He brought up the SIG and stared upward at that ceiling. There was nothing more, of course, no sound of anything. He was disgusted with himself. What had he been expecting?

He was getting himself steady again, drawing deep breaths, when there was another noise, but not a thump this time, he didn't know what it was.

All he knew was that someone was right above their heads.

His mouth was bone dry when he said, "Is the man up there?"

Her lips worked, but nothing came out but gasping breaths, full of fear too deep to understand.

"You stay here," he said. "Do you understand me? That's right, don't move. I'm going to take a look up there."

Savich walked to the wide staircase. Why were there no lights on upstairs? He climbed the stairs, his SIG held firm and steady, pausing every couple of steps to listen.

There it was, another sound. He was pissed now. Someone was playing games, the sorts of games that reminded him a bit of the most horrific criminal he'd ever run into, Tammy Tuttle, a nightmare that still haunted him when his brain shut off enough to let it in. But it wasn't Tammy up here. Thank the good Lord she was long dead.

The steps weren't carpeted, just bare solid oak, beautifully finished, and his footsteps echoed loud in the silent air. He felt the weight of each step, sure his feet were sinking just a bit into the heavy planks.

He reached the top of the stairs and paused a moment to listen. He didn't hear anything. He felt along the wall until he found a light switch. He flicked it on and the long corridor lit up. Here the floor was carpeted with thick old broadloom. He went into room after room, all bedrooms, most looking long empty, except for a well-used boy's room with posters of old rock groups on every wall, all sorts of toys and games covering the surfaces. There weren't any clothes strewn about and the bed was made. There was an old signed football from the undefeated 1972 Dolphins sitting in the middle of it. At the end of the corridor there was a huge master suite, the bed made, the whole space neat as a pin. He opened a closet to find a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt lying on the floor, and a pair of women's boots, one lying atop the other. He went into each of the five old-fashioned bathrooms, searched more closets than he cared to count, and finally he eased into a den of sorts, the walls covered with prints of London and Paris. There was no big media center, just a TV on a stand in the corner and what looked like a TV Guide lying precariously on top, a pool table, several easy chairs, and one ratty leather sofa that looked like it had been used for at least two generations.

There was only silence, thick and dead.

Whatever they had heard, no, whomever they had heard, was gone. Savich felt helpless, something he hated. He wondered if the man who'd made these noises had simply slipped out of one of the upstairs windows. Savich walked slowly back along the corridor, alert, his SIG steady in his hand. Suddenly he felt something, something that was close, something right behind him. Savich froze for an instant, then quickly, crouching low, he whirled around, his SIG up. No one was there, not even a dust mote, but the odd thing was that there was a heaviness in the air itself, as if something should be there, as if perhaps it was, just invisible to him. He shook his head at himself.

He had no idea what was really going on. The only one who could clear things up was the woman downstairs, seated on that flowered sofa, staring into the fireplace, wearing a dress more suited to summer than this bone-cold winter night. He could give her tea, calm her down, get her talking, convince her to let him take her to the sheriff.

He'd nearly reached the stairs when he heard another noise. It was above him.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 102 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(46)

4 Star

(25)

3 Star

(12)

2 Star

(9)

1 Star

(10)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 103 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 12, 2004

    Not that good.

    This is the first book I've read by this author, and it will probably be my last. I agree with the other reviewers in that the first chapter was great, but from there it just dragged. In fact, once I reached the middle of the book, I let it sit for a couple of weeks before I picked it up again. The dialog was unrealistic and the plot, well, what plot? As a former employee of the Bureau, I find it difficult to comprehend some 'older' ladies outsmarting the Bureau. Unrealistic. If you want a true 'page-turner', try Michael Palmer, Jack Higgins or James Patterson!

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted April 17, 2012

    Boring. Too many names to keep track of. Too many assumptions.

    Boring. Too many names to keep track of. Too many assumptions.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 1, 2006

    My first and last read of this author

    Catherine Coulter has wasted a perfectly great story line with some really poor writing. It would be interesting to see this storyline written by a real writer like James Patterson or Vince Flynn. I was very disappointed. I rated it one star only because no star was not an option.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 26, 2014

    MAP DO NOT POST HERE

    Res 1:map DO NOT POST HERE res 2:bios res 3: main chat rooms res 4: store res5: tv talk res 6: acting scenes everything else is for houses and reserved buildings. You may create your own stores and such ONLY POST HERE IF YOU ARE POSTING WHARE YOUR STORE OR BUISSNESS IS AT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 18, 2014

    Hhhhhhh

    Gggggggg

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 27, 2013

    Another good one.

    I liked the part where Savich was fretting about the woman he saved.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 23, 2013

    Ms.carmell

    This was a alright book

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 14, 2012

    Absolutely must read

    Didn't think this series could get more spellbinding. I was wrong. Ms Coulter keeps you doing the " just one more page. Then sleep"

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 12, 2012

    Good Read

    Very good book. Keeps you on the edge of yourr seat. Love the series.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 6, 2011

    The major characters are outstanding

    I enjoy Catherine's books. My wife and I discovered her books after we've exhausted our other authors. We've purchased 6 of her books and we're reading through them. They're great.

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  • Posted September 16, 2011

    Anonymous sept 16

    Very good

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  • Posted July 15, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Blowout

    I just finished reading all of the FBI series except for Knockout. Great character especially Dillon and Sherlock. Keep them coming.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 13, 2007

    Not her best work

    I've read all of Catherine Coulters FBI series so far and I have to say, this one has been the weakest one so far. I still love Savich and Sherlock, but they seemed kind of out of character this book. Sherlock was just....strange. And I liked the storyline with Ben and Callie, but I HATED the ending. Let's just say, it ties up nothing at all. You find out the details of whodunit, but it left me feeling unsatisfied. I would have liked less loose ends, it really ruinied the book for me. I don't recommend this book unless you are a diehard Coulter fan and just want to read all the books in the series.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 20, 2007

    Don't waste your time with this book.

    Awful. One of the worst books I've ever read. It reads like a first draft that slipped past the editing process and went straight to print. Absurd dialogue, ridiculous characters, pathetic excuse for a plot. I read it like someone watching a train wreck -- I couldn't believe anything could be this bad.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 4, 2006

    Recommended

    i personally liked this book....it was real thrilling, had me at the edge of my seat quite a number of times...my first book from Catherine...i'm sure it won't be my last...it was a great read...I LOVED IT!!!!!!...it was worth the buy...

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 3, 2006

    A major disappointment

    I was enjoying the book very much until the final few chapters, when it seemed that Ms. Coulter, or her editor, decided the book needed to end, no matter what. The protagonist was uninteresting and had a ridiculous back story. Some of the sudden story developments for peripheral characters felt so wrong that it was a slap to the face. Very disappointing, indeed.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 17, 2005

    Satisfied Fan

    Not one of her best but still, a page turner that holds the readers attention. I've enjoyed reading all of her books.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 5, 2005

    Okay enough to continue to read.

    It would take a lot for me to put down a bad book and not find out how it ends. I didn't put this one down. It was good, maybe not her best. It was worth the buy.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 28, 2005

    A major disappointment

    The first three pages of this book are the only thing worth reading in this book. After that it's all down hill. Story line has no depth to it. It just jumps back and forth and you feel like you're just rambling along. This book hasn't any bite to it or substance. It was a total disappointment. Totally boring. I am completely surprise this book was written by Catherine Coutler. Don't waste your time on it. Read Julie Garwoods FBI thrillers instead.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 31, 2005

    Disappointing

    I found Blowout disappointing in comparison to her previous books. It was actually a pretty dull read. It felt impersonal and I never really got to know any of the characters. Sherlock and Savich were treated glibly and the two storylines didn't work well together or separately for that matter. Neither the villain or the characters had any depth and everything just moved along at a steady pace without any interesting climax. It was all very ho hum.

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