Courting Trouble (Rosato & Associates Series #7)

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Overview

"Anne Murphy is smart, gorgeous, and young, the redheaded rookie at the Philadelphia law firm of Rosato & Associates. She leaves town for the Fourth of July weekend to prepare for a high-profile trial, but when she buys her morning newspaper, her own photo is plastered all over the front page. And the headline - LAWYER MURDERED - supposedly refers to her. Anne sets out to find her killer, playing dead in order to stay alive." She tries to go it alone but quickly realizes that she'll have to trust people she barely knows - colleagues who hate
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Courting Trouble (Rosato & Associates Series #7)

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Overview

"Anne Murphy is smart, gorgeous, and young, the redheaded rookie at the Philadelphia law firm of Rosato & Associates. She leaves town for the Fourth of July weekend to prepare for a high-profile trial, but when she buys her morning newspaper, her own photo is plastered all over the front page. And the headline - LAWYER MURDERED - supposedly refers to her. Anne sets out to find her killer, playing dead in order to stay alive." She tries to go it alone but quickly realizes that she'll have to trust people she barely knows - colleagues who hate her guts, a homicide squad that wants her out of the crime-fighting business, and a new love who inconveniently happens to be opposing counsel. The investigation takes all of Anne's boldness and ingenuity - plus a pair of red satin hot pants. But her knack for courting trouble makes it almost impossible for Anne to play well with others, defend the lawsuit, and fight her urge to sleep with the enemy. Then an unexpected event places her in lethal jeopardy and leaves her with everything to lose - including her life.
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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
The Barnes & Noble Review
Lisa Scottoline has garnered legions of fans with highly entertaining legal thrillers that offer a trademark blend of suspense, romance, comic wit, and strong female characters.

Courting Trouble introduces Anne Murphy, a feisty, fashionable, beautiful young attorney who seems to have it all. (She can even run like a first-class sprinter in her Manolo Blahniks.) But when Anne's cat-sitter is brutally murdered while she's out of town -- and the mutilated corpse is mistaken for Anne -- her envious colleagues at the all-female law firm Rosato & Associates are forced to confront some harsh truths about the price of beauty, the power of jealousy, and their own cold judgments.

Anne has pressing concerns of her own. After reading about the murder in the papers, she secretly contacts her boss and two of the firm's top associates for help. Trying to lull the killer into a false sense of security, the crack team of legal eagles decides to keep Anne's alive-and-kicking status a secret. They quickly track down their main suspect, an escaped convict and stalker who threatened Anne once before, and report his whereabouts to the police. But if you think Courting Trouble ends there, you haven't read much Scottoline. As with her incredibly popular bestsellers The Vendetta Defense, Everywhere That Mary Went, and Final Appeal, the suspense doesn't let up until a whammy of a surprise ending in the final pages.

Sexy, sassy, suspenseful, and just plain fun, Courting Trouble is exactly the kind of thriller Scottoline fans crave. (Brian Perrin)

Publishers Weekly
New York Times bestseller Scottoline's cast of beautiful female lawyers at Philadelphia's Rosato & Associates is augmented by red-headed bombshell Anne Murphy, a woman with a secret past, who's trying to make a go of it in a new city. An intriguing character jammed into a laborious plot, Murphy toils as a career-minded loner. On a much-needed weekend away from her heavy caseload, she picks up a newspaper to read that she has been murdered by an intruder who blasted her in the face with a shotgun. Murphy knows the real victim was the woman who had agreed to feed her cat; she also knows that the murderer was likely Kevin Satorno, the stalker who nearly killed her a year earlier while she was living in Los Angeles. Murphy figures that if Satorno discovers he actually killed the wrong person, he'll continue hunting her, so she decides to play dead and enlist the help of her new colleagues at Rosato & Associates to track him down. Scottoline (The Vendetta Defense; Moment of Truth) wraps up the far-fetched action in high style, with a few predictable twists, at Philly's big outdoor Fourth of July celebration. As in her eight previous women-in-peril legal thrillers, she tempers the plot's bloodshed with a bouncy tone that some readers may find cloying. But this doesn't bother the former lawyer's growing base of fans she's now translated into 25 languages and despite Murphy's occasional "you go, girl" silliness, she's the best character Scottoline has created in a while. Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
The lawyers in Scottoline's all-woman law firm, Rosato and Associates, are generally attractive and interesting; they tend to act on emotion and feeling, in addition to judgment and logic. In the case of protagonist Anne Murphy, the author takes this a bit too far; Anne's actions are irrational and unreasonable in many instances, making the plot somewhat unbelievable. Still, the story is exciting and deals with some interesting issues, e.g., stalking, sexual harassment, family estrangement, and high-tech corruption. As usual, Scottoline's descriptions of the Philadelphia scene are great. Barbara Rosenblat does a good job with the characters, but the fireworks at the end of the story need a different approach. Recommended where legal thrillers are popular.-Christine Valentine, Davenport Univ., Kalamazoo, MI
Kirkus Reviews
The newest member of Philadelphia's ladies-only law firm of Rosato & Associates (The Vendetta Defense) lands a once-in-a-lifetime case: investigating her own murder. Using Scottoline's trademark razzle-dazzle tactics, Anne Murphy-who honors "precision . . . in the law, brain surgery, and lipliner"-has just succeeded in getting the judge to exclude a crucial witness against Gil Martin, the dot-com millionaire client she's defending in a sexual-harassment case, when the legal machinery grinds to a halt for the 4th of July weekend. Flush with success, Anne has nobody to celebrate it with. She's new to the East Coast, long estranged from her alcoholic actress mother, and wary about seeing men ever since her first date with LA erotomaniac Kevin Satorno turned him into a stalker now doing hard time. Deciding on a whim to leave town for the weekend, she's happy to accept her artist acquaintance Willa Hansen's offer to house-sit her cat. Next morning, though, her holiday ends when she reads a headline announcing her own murder. Clearly, Willa's been shotgunned to death in her place-and it's no mystery by whom, since a phone call confirms that Kevin has indeed just escaped from prison. Figuring that reporting their little mistake to the authorities would put her back at the top of Kevin's hit list, Anne resolves to stay underground. But things don't exactly work out that way. She's forced to reveal herself first to Rosato & Associates; then to Matt Booker, the plaintiff's attorney who's been making puppy-dog eyes at her across the aisle; then to Philadelphia's finest; and finally, at the height of Independence Day festivities, to Kevin himself. A glamorpuss lawyer whose behavior defies belief; gay bars and hooker disguises; a little detection, a little courtroom drama, and one noisy finale: it's all as fleet and breathless as it is synthetic.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780061031410
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 5/27/2003
  • Series: Rosato & Associates Series , #7
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 432
  • Sales rank: 253,100
  • Product dimensions: 4.18 (w) x 6.75 (h) x 1.08 (d)

Meet the Author

Lisa Scottoline

Lisa Scottoline is a New York Times bestselling author and serves as president of the Mystery Writers of America. She has won the Edgar Award, as well as many other writing awards. She also writes a Sunday humor column for the Philadelphia Inquirer, titled "Chick Wit," with her daughter, Francesca Serritella. There are thirty million copies of Lisa's books in print, and she has been published in thirty-two countries. She lives in Pennsylvania with an array of disobedient but adorable pets.

Biography

Most authors admit that they need to work in silence in order to get into the creative process. For them, writing is serious work that requires the utmost peace and concentration. Of course, most authors are not writing the kind of whiz-bang, sharp, wild, and witty works that Lisa Scottoline is producing. Scottoline's unusual working methods and desire for all things pop culture have helped her to create some of the most unapologetically entertaining and compulsively page-turning novels in contemporary popular fiction.

Scottoline's initial impetus to become a novelist was not quite as joyful as her novels might suggest. She had recently given up her position as a litigator at a Philadelphia law firm to raise her newborn daughter at the same time as she was breaking up with her husband. While the birth of her daughter was an undoubtedly happy moment for Scottoline, she was also thrust into relative isolation in the wake of her separation and the end of her job. To keep herself busy (when not tending to her daughter, that is), she decided to write a novel, the provocative story of an ambitious young lawyer whose hectic life becomes even more manic when she learns she is being stalked. Three years after beginning the novel, Scottoline sold Everywhere That Mary Went to HarperCollins a mere week after taking a part-time job as a clerk for an appellate judge—her first job since beginning the book. While her transition from lawyer to novelist may seem abrupt to some, Scottoline asserts that it was law school that gave her the necessary tools to spin a compelling yarn. In a 2005 interview with Barnes & Noble.com, Scottoline asserted that the job of a lawyer is surprisingly similar to that of a good writer: "Take the facts that matter, throw out the ones that don't, order them in such a way in which a point of view is created so that by the time someone is finished listening to your argument or reading your book they see things completely in that point of view."

Scottoline's sure-handed way with an intriguing narrative has led to a string of bestselling thrillers and a popular series revolving around the women of Rosato & Associates, an all-female law firm in Philadelphia—the author's own beloved hometown. Jam-packed with humor, mystery, eroticism, and smarts, her novels are published worldwide and have been translated into twenty-five different languages.

Good To Know

Lisa Scottoline is definitely no TV snob. She feels no shame when revealing her love of everything from Court TV to Oprah to The Apprentice to I Love Lucy.

One of the reasons that Scottoline is such a fabulous writer may have something to do with having a particularly fabulous teacher. While studying English at the University of Pennsylvania she was instructed by National Book Award Winner Philip Roth.

Don't try this at home! Scottoline completed her first novel, Everywhere That Mary Went, while she and her newborn daughter lived solely on $35,000 worth of credit from five Visa cards, which she'd completely maxed out by the time she completed the book three years later.

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    1. Hometown:
      Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
    1. Date of Birth:
      July 1, 1955
    2. Place of Birth:
      Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
    1. Education:
      B.A., University of Pennsylvania, 1976; J.D., University of Pennsylvania Law School, 1981
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One



Anne Murphy barreled through the bustling lobby of the William Green Federal Courthouse, her long, auburn hair flying. She was about to do something crazy in court and couldn't wait to get upstairs. If she won, she'd be a hero. If she lost, she'd go to jail. Anne didn't think twice about the if-she-lost part. She was a redhead, which is a blonde with poor impulse control.

"Ms. Murphy, Ms. Murphy, just one question!" a reporter shouted, dogging her heels, but Anne charged ahead, trying to ditch him in the crowd.

Federal employees, lawyers, and jurors crisscrossed the lobby to the exits, hurrying home to start the Fourth of July weekend, but heads turned at the sight of the stunning young woman. Anne had wide-set eyes of willow-green, a straight nose dusted with freckles, and a largish mouth, glossy with an artful swipe of raisiny lipstick. Very female curves filled out a suit of cream-colored silk, and her long, lean legs tapered to fine ankles, ending in impractical Manolo Blahnik heels. Anne looked like a model, but given her past didn't even think of herself as pretty. None of us outgrows the kid in the bathroom mirror.

"Uh-oh, here comes trouble!" called one of the court security officers, as Anne approached the group of dark polyester blazers clustered around the metal detectors. Manning the machines were five older guards, all retired Philly cops, flashing appreciative grins. The guard calling to Anne was the most talkative, with a still-trim figure, improbably black hair, and a nameplate that read OFFICER SALVATORE BONANNO. "Gangway, fellas! It's Red, andshe's loaded for bear!"

"Right again, Sal." Anne tossed her leather briefcase and a Kate Spade messenger bag onto the conveyor belt. "Wish me luck."

"What's cookin', good-lookin'?"

"The usual. Striking a blow for justice. Paying too much for shoes." Anne strode through the security portal as her bags glided through the X-ray machine. "You gentlemen got plans for the holiday weekend?"

"I'm takin' you dancin'," Officer Bonanno answered with a dentured smile, and the other guards burst into guffaws made gravelly by cigarette breaks at the loading dock off of Seventh Street. Bonanno ignored them cheerfully. "I'm gonna teach you to jitterbug, ain't I, Red?"

"Ha!" Officer Sean Feeney broke in, grinning. "You and the lovely Miss Murphy, Sal? In your dreams!" Feeney was a ruddy-faced, heavyset sixty-five-year-old, with eyebrows as furry as caterpillars. "She's an Irish girl and she's savin' herself for me." He turned to Anne. "Your people from County Galway, right, Annie? You got pretty skin, like the girls in Galway."

"Galway, that near Glendale?" Anne asked, and they laughed. She never knew what to say when someone commented on her looks. The X-ray machine surrendered her belongings, and she reached for them as two reporters caught up with her, threw their bags onto the conveyor belt, and started firing questions.

"Ms. Murphy, any comment on the trial next week?" "Why won't your client settle this case?" "Isn't this ruining Chipster's chance to go public?" They kept interrupting each other. "Anne, what's this motion about today?" "Why do you want to keep this evidence from the jury?"

"No comment, please." Anne broke free, grabbed her bags, and bolted from the press, but it turned out she didn't have to. Officer Bonanno was confronting the reporters, hard-eyed behind his bifocals.

"Yo, people!" he bellowed, Philly-style. "You know the rules! None o' that in the courthouse! Why you gotta give the young lady a hard time?"

Officer Feeney frowned at the first reporter and motioned him over. "Come 'ere a minute, sir. I think you need a full-body scan." He reached under the security counter and emerged with a handheld metal detector. "Come on, in fact, both of youse." He waved the wand at the second reporter, and the other security guards lined up behind him like an aged phalanx.

"But I'm the press!" the reporter protested. "This is my beat! You see me every day. I'm Allen Collins, I have an ID." Behind him, his canvas briefcase stalled suddenly in the X-ray machine, and the guard watching the monitor was already confiscating it. The reporter turned back, puzzled. "Hey, wait a minute!"

Officer Bonanno dismissed Anne to the elevators with a newly authoritative air. "Go on up, Miss!"

"Thanks, Officer," Anne said, suppressing a smile as she grabbed the open elevator and hit the button for the ninth floor. She hadn't asked for the assist and felt vaguely guilty accepting it. But only vaguely.

Minutes later, Anne reached the ninth floor and entered the spacious, modern courtroom, which was packed. The Chipster case, for sexual harassment against Gil Martin, Philadelphia's best-known Internet millionaire, had attracted press attention since the day it was filed, and reporters, sketch artists, and the public filled the sleek modern pews of dark wood. Their faces swiveled almost as one toward Anne as she strode down the carpeted center aisle.

Bailiffs in blue blazers stopped conferring over the docket sheets, law clerks straightened new ties, and a female court reporter shot daggers over her blue steno machine, on its spindly metal legs. Anne had grown accustomed to the reaction; men adored her, women hated her. She had nevertheless joined the all-woman law firm of Rosato & Associates, which had turned out to be a very redheaded career move. But that was another story.

She reached counsel table and set down her briefcase and purse, then looked back. A young man dressed in a lightweight trench coat was sitting, as planned, on the aisle in the front row behind her. Anne acknowledged him discreetly, then took her seat, opened her briefcase, and pulled out a copy of her motion papers. The motion and the young man on the...

Courting Trouble. Copyright © by Lisa Scottoline. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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First Chapter

Chapter One

Anne Murphy barreled through the bustling lobby of the William Green Federal Courthouse, her long, auburn hair flying. She was about to do something crazy in court and couldn't wait to get upstairs. If she won, she'd be a hero. If she lost, she'd go to jail. Anne didn't think twice about the if-she-lost part. She was a redhead, which is a blonde with poor impulse control.

"Ms. Murphy, Ms. Murphy, just one question!" a reporter shouted, dogging her heels, but Anne charged ahead, trying to ditch him in the crowd.

Federal employees, lawyers, and jurors crisscrossed the lobby to the exits, hurrying home to start the Fourth of July weekend, but heads turned at the sight of the stunning young woman. Anne had wide-set eyes of willow-green, a straight nose dusted with freckles, and a largish mouth, glossy with an artful swipe of raisiny lipstick. Very female curves filled out a suit of cream-colored silk, and her long, lean legs tapered to fine ankles, ending in impractical Manolo Blahnik heels. Anne looked like a model, but given her past didn't even think of herself as pretty. None of us outgrows the kid in the bathroom mirror.

"Uh-oh, here comes trouble!" called one of the court security officers, as Anne approached the group of dark polyester blazers clustered around the metal detectors. Manning the machines were five older guards, all retired Philly cops, flashing appreciative grins. The guard calling to Anne was the most talkative, with a still-trim figure, improbably black hair, and a nameplate that read OFFICER SALVATORE BONANNO. "Gangway, fellas! It's Red, and she's loaded for bear!"

"Right again, Sal." Anne tossed her leather briefcase and a Kate Spade messenger bag onto the conveyor belt. "Wish me luck."

"What's cookin', good-lookin'?"

"The usual. Striking a blow for justice. Paying too much for shoes." Anne strode through the security portal as her bags glided through the X-ray machine. "You gentlemen got plans for the holiday weekend?"

"I'm takin' you dancin'," Officer Bonanno answered with a dentured smile, and the other guards burst into guffaws made gravelly by cigarette breaks at the loading dock off of Seventh Street. Bonanno ignored them cheerfully. "I'm gonna teach you to jitterbug, ain't I, Red?"

"Ha!" Officer Sean Feeney broke in, grinning. "You and the lovely Miss Murphy, Sal? In your dreams!" Feeney was a ruddy-faced, heavyset sixty-five-year-old, with eyebrows as furry as caterpillars. "She's an Irish girl and she's savin' herself for me." He turned to Anne. "Your people from County Galway, right, Annie? You got pretty skin, like the girls in Galway."

"Galway, that near Glendale?" Anne asked, and they laughed. She never knew what to say when someone commented on her looks. The X-ray machine surrendered her belongings, and she reached for them as two reporters caught up with her, threw their bags onto the conveyor belt, and started firing questions.

"Ms. Murphy, any comment on the trial next week?" "Why won't your client settle this case?" "Isn't this ruining Chipster's chance to go public?" They kept interrupting each other. "Anne, what's this motion about today?" "Why do you want to keep this evidence from the jury?"

"No comment, please." Anne broke free, grabbed her bags, and bolted from the press, but it turned out she didn't have to. Officer Bonanno was confronting the reporters, hard-eyed behind his bifocals.

"Yo, people!" he bellowed, Philly-style. "You know the rules! None o' that in the courthouse! Why you gotta give the young lady a hard time?"

Officer Feeney frowned at the first reporter and motioned him over. "Come 'ere a minute, sir. I think you need a full-body scan." He reached under the security counter and emerged with a handheld metal detector. "Come on, in fact, both of youse." He waved the wand at the second reporter, and the other security guards lined up behind him like an aged phalanx.

"But I'm the press!" the reporter protested. "This is my beat! You see me every day. I'm Allen Collins, I have an ID." Behind him, his canvas briefcase stalled suddenly in the X-ray machine, and the guard watching the monitor was already confiscating it. The reporter turned back, puzzled. "Hey, wait a minute!"

Officer Bonanno dismissed Anne to the elevators with a newly authoritative air. "Go on up, Miss!"

"Thanks, Officer," Anne said, suppressing a smile as she grabbed the open elevator and hit the button for the ninth floor. She hadn't asked for the assist and felt vaguely guilty accepting it. But only vaguely.

Minutes later, Anne reached the ninth floor and entered the spacious, modern courtroom, which was packed. The Chipster case, for sexual harassment against Gil Martin, Philadelphia's best-known Internet millionaire, had attracted press attention since the day it was filed, and reporters, sketch artists, and the public filled the sleek modern pews of dark wood. Their faces swiveled almost as one toward Anne as she strode down the carpeted center aisle.

Bailiffs in blue blazers stopped conferring over the docket sheets, law clerks straightened new ties, and a female court reporter shot daggers over her blue steno machine, on its spindly metal legs. Anne had grown accustomed to the reaction; men adored her, women hated her. She had nevertheless joined the all-woman law firm of Rosato & Associates, which had turned out to be a very redheaded career move. But that was another story.

She reached counsel table and set down her briefcase and purse, then looked back. A young man dressed in a lightweight trench coat was sitting, as planned, on the aisle in the front row behind her. Anne acknowledged him discreetly, then took her seat, opened her briefcase, and took out a copy of her motion papers. The motion and the young man on the aisle had been Anne's latest idea. Chipster.com was her first big client at Rosato, and Gil Martin had hired her because they'd known each other at law school. She had never tried a case of this magnitude, and in the beginning wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew. Then she decided that she had, and stopped wondering.

"Happy Fourth!" whispered a voice at her ear, and she looked up.

Matt Booker was a year older than Anne's twenty-eight, and he stood over her, with dark, wavy hair, light-blue eyes, and eyelashes too thick to be wasted on a man. She would have been wildly attracted to him if he hadn't been opposing counsel, but that was an alternate reality. Matt represented the plaintiffs in this case, a female programmer named Beth Dietz and her husband Bill, who had filed a derivative claim against Chipster. Though Anne hadn't dated anyone for the year she'd been in Philly, Matt Booker was the first time she'd been tempted. Really tempted, but opposing counsel was about as forbidden as fruit gets.

"Go away," she said, but Matt leaned closer.

"I just want you to know that I'm not asking you out today." His whisper smelled like Crest. "You've turned me down 329 times, and I'm detecting a pattern. Stop me before I ask again."

Anne blushed. "Matt, has it occurred to you that you are sexually harassing me, in a sexual harassment lawsuit?"

"Come on, my advances are welcome, aren't they? Sort of?"

Anne didn't answer. She was deciding. It had been so long since she'd let herself trust anyone. But she had known Matt for almost a year, since the complaint in this case was filed, and he was an overconfident pain in the ass, which she liked in a man.

"A little? Slim to none?" Matt was asking, bracing a hand on the polished counsel table, and she took a chance.

"Okay. After the trial is over, I will go out with you. But only after."

"Really?" Matt's voice cracked, which Anne found cute. He was always so cool, it was as if his veneer had cracked, too. He looked astounded, his jaw dropping unselfconsciously. "Anne, are you on drugs?"

"No."

"Will you sign an affidavit to that effect?"

"Go away." Anne studied her brief. "I'm preparing to kick your ass."

"What if I win this case?"

"Not possible. You're in the wrong, and you're against me."

"I won the last evidentiary motion, remember?"

"That was a battle, not the war." Anne eyed the bailiffs over her papers. "Now go away. Everyone knows you're flirting."

"You're flirting back."

"I don't flirt with opposing counsel."

"I'm not opposing, you are." Matt snorted, then stepped away and crossed to plaintiff's counsel table. Beyond it lay the jury box, a polished mahogany rail cordoning off fourteen empty chairs in various states of swivelhood. They made an interesting backdrop, and Anne wondered if Matt would still want to see her after the verdict came back. She thought of the young man sitting behind her and suppressed a guilty twinge. That made a total of two guilty twinges she'd had in her whole life, and Anne wasn't good at suppressing them, on account of such sporadic practice.

"All rise!" the bailiff cried, from beyond the bar of the court. The golden seal of the United States Courts rose like the sun on the paneled wall, behind a huge mahogany dais of contemporary design. Gilt-framed portraits of past judges hung on the walls, their thick oil paint glistening darkly in the recessed lights. The bailiff stood near one, his chest puffed out as if it bore medals. "All rise! Court is now in session! The Honorable Albert D. Hoffmeier, presiding."

"Good afternoon, everybody," Judge Hoffmeier called out, emerging from the paneled pocket door, carrying a thick accordion case-file. The gallery greeted the stocky little judge in return, and he bustled into the courtroom, the hem of his shiny black robes brushing the carpet as he chugged past the American flag and onto the large, wooden dais, then plopped the file onto the cluttered desktop, seated himself in his chair, and pushed up his tortoiseshell glasses.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Murphy." Judge Hoffmeier smiled down at her, his eyes bright. His wiry hair was flecked salt-and-pepper, and he wore a Stars-and-Stripes bow tie that evidenced a sense of humor legendary on the district court bench. "What is it you're troubling us with, young lady? My favorite holiday is almost upon us, and we should all be out buying hot dogs and sunblock." The gallery chuckled, as did the judge. "Yes, I like sunblock on my hot dogs."

The gallery laughed again, and Anne rose and took her brief to the lectern. "Sorry to keep you, Your Honor, but I do have this pesky evidentiary motion. As you know, I represent Chipster.com, the defendant company in this matter, and I am asking the Court to exclude the testimony of Susan Feldman, whom plaintiff intends to call as a witness at trial next week."

"You don't think the jury should meet Ms. Feldman, counsel?" If Judge Hoffmeier appreciated Anne's beauty he hid it well, and she didn't kid herself that he'd let it influence him. It took more than a pretty face to win in a federal forum. Usually.

"Not at all, Your Honor. I think Ms. Feldman and her testimony should be excluded under Federal Rule of Evidence 401, because it is irrelevant. Ms. Feldman alleges that one of Chipster's programmers, named Phillip Leaver, sexually harassed her, in a rather bizarre incident." The judge's already-twinkling eye told Anne that he knew the underlying facts. "Neither Ms. Feldman nor Mr. Leaver have anything to do with this case or either of the parties at issue. The incident concerning Ms. Feldman occurred in a different department, at a different time, between different people."

"I read your motion papers." Judge Hoffmeier patted the accordion file. "Am I correct that defendant company concedes that the incident involving Ms. Feldman is true?"

"Correct, Your Honor." Anne took a deep, preparatory breath. "We concede that this incident took place, but we do not concede that it constitutes sexual harassment. The incident was a prank, and even though Mr. Leaver's conduct wasn't actionable, Chipster found it inappropriate and terminated him that very day."

"Oh really? A prank?" Judge Hoffmeier peered in amusement over the top of his glasses. "Let's talk turkey, Ms. Murphy. Mr. Leaver came out of his cubicle at work-and he was naked as a jaybird!"

"True." Anne suppressed her smile, and the gallery reacted with muffled laughter. "But it was a joke, Your Honor. And, just for the record, Mr. Leaver was wearing ankle bands with little wings. They were made out of Reynolds Wrap."

"Ankle bands with wings, of course. A fan of Hermes, or Pan, perhaps, eh?" Judge Hoffmeier chuckled, and the gallery with him, since they'd been given judicial permission. "Why wings, counsel?"

"Why not, Your Honor? Though I doubt Mr. Leaver studies mythology. He's twenty-three years old and watches way too much Jackass."

"Jackass?"

"It's a show on MTV. Young men skateboard naked or dressed like gorillas." Anne loved the show, but wasn't eager to reveal as much to a sixty-year-old judge with Article III powers. "In any event, Mr. Leaver came out of his cubicle and stood for a moment in front of Ms. Feldman, but said nothing inappropriate and made no lewd gesture. He merely flapped his arms and pretended to fly, which I admit is silly and tasteless, but is not yet a violation of federal law."

Judge Hoffmeier burst into laughter. "This is why NASDAQ's in the crapper! This is the Internet revolution we hear so much about! The nation's economy is run by children wearing kitchen supplies!"

Anne waited until the laughter in the gallery had subsided. The holiday mood had already started, and she hoped it would flow in her favor, five minutes hence. "It is funny, Your Honor, and in fact, Ms. Feldman clearly took Mr. Leaver's actions as a joke. When he started flapping, she laughed until she fell off her chair. Mr. Leaver was so embarrassed, he ran into the men's room and refused to come out until the close of business."

The gallery laughed louder, and Judge Hoffmeier let it spend itself, then turned serious. "Well. This is a unique fact situation, to be sure. Your client, Chipster.com, doesn't want Ms. Feldman to tell the story about the tinfoil wings at trial?"

"No. Her story, her evidence, is irrelevant. The upcoming trial, Dietz v. Chipster, is a quid pro quo case of sexual harassment. In it, plaintiff alleges that Gil Martin, the company's CEO, forced Beth Dietz, a female programmer, to have sex with him in his office on a number of occasions, in order to keep her job. What happened between Mr. Martin and Ms. Dietz is a credibility question for the jury, and we will prove that plaintiff's allegations are false. But whether Mr. Leaver streaked, flapped, or struck a pose for Ms. Feldman doesn't make it any more or less likely that Gil Martin harassed Beth Dietz."

"Standard relevance analysis, eh, Ms. Murphy?"

"Exactly, with one addition." Anne rechecked her brief. "While that evidence may be admissible in a 'hostile environment' theory, in which the number and pervasiveness of alleged other incidents are relevant, it is clearly inadmissible as irrelevant in this, a quid pro quo case."

"So, you rest on the difference between a hostile environment theory and a quid pro quo theory of sexual harassment." Judge Hoffmeier frowned in thought. "It's quite a technical argument."

"Think of it as precise, Your Honor." To Anne, precision mattered in the law, brain surgery, and lipliner. Otherwise it was no fun at all. "The distinction makes a difference because of the impact the evidence will have. Plaintiff's counsel will be using this incident involving Mr. Leaver to bootstrap his meager proofs regarding Mr. Martin."

Judge Hoffmeier rubbed his chin, clean-shaven even at this hour. "Any guidance from upstairs, Ms. Murphy? I've found no appellate cases on point."

"Frankly, no, Your Honor. I briefed Becker v. ARCO, which supports my position, but it's not precisely on point. It does emphasize the danger in admitting evidence of this kind, in that it enables the plaintiff to prove the defendant's liability only in the loosest and most illogical fashion, like guilt by association."

"Thank you. I have your argument, Ms. Murphy." Judge Hoffmeier nodded and turned to plaintiff's counsel table. "You want in, Mr. Booker?"

"Sure do, Your Honor." Matt went to the lectern as Anne stepped back. "Your Honor, I like a joke as much as the next guy, and I agree this incident may sound funny to us now. But contrary to defense counsel's assertion, Ms. Feldman did not think this supposed prank was funny. Mr. Leaver's conduct constitutes indecent exposure in this and most jurisdictions."

Judge Hoffmeier's mouth's flattened to a politically correct line of disapproval. Anne wondered if she could rescind her flirting.

"Your Honor, we think Ms. Feldman's testimony is admissible," Matt continued. "This is proof positive of the type of 'locker room' conduct that is encouraged at Chipster.com and at an increasing number of Internet companies. Sexual harassment suits are on the rise in the Internet companies because computer programming is so male-dominated. In fact, ninety-five percent of Chipster's programmers are male, between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-five, and none of the company's fifteen supervisors are women. This creates the raucous 'boys only' pattern of conduct, which permits conduct like Mr. Leaver's and Mr. Martin's to flourish."

"What about Ms. Murphy's point that this is a quid pro quo case and not a hostile environment case?"

"I agree with Your Honor that that is a hypertechnical argument. Sexual harassment is sexual harassment. And Becker v. ARCO notwithstanding, the law in the Third Circuit is not settled on whether evidence proving a hostile environment case can be admitted in a quid pro quo case."

Judge Hoffmeier rested his chin on his hand. "It does seem probative to me, especially considering that it is undisputed."

"I agree, Your Honor, and it is for the jury-not for any of us-to decide whether the corporate culture at Chipster is one in which sexual harassment is permitted. The defendant in the present case is the very CEO of the company, Gilbert Martin."

"Thank you for your argument, counsel," Judge Hoffmeier said with finality, and Anne couldn't tell which way he would rule. She couldn't take a chance on losing. The evidence would kill her case. Time for Plan B.

"Your Honor, if I may, I have rebuttal," Anne said, and Judge Hoffmeier smiled.

"The fighting Irish. Okay, counsel, but keep it short."

"Your Honor, in the alternative, defendant argues that even if the Court thinks the evidence is relevant, it should be excluded under Federal Rule 403 because of the danger of unfair prejudice. Imagine how distracted the jury would be if this evidence came in. Your Honor, we're talking here about a naked man."

On cue, the young man sitting behind Anne in the gallery stood up, stepped into the aisle, then unbuttoned his raincoat and let it drop in a heap at his feet. The man was sandy-haired, handsome-and buck-naked. The gallery let out a collective gasp, the court reporter covered her mouth, and the bailiff reached for his handcuffs, but Anne continued her legal argument:

"The image of a naked man commands instant and total attention. It is a riveting, galvanizing image, especially in a courtroom. If it's permitted, the jury will be so distracted--"

"What is this?" Judge Hoffmeier exploded. He was craning his neck and fumbling for his gavel. Crak! Crak! "Order! Order! My God in Heaven! Get dressed, young man! Put your clothes on!"

Matt sprang to his feet, pounding the table. "Your Honor, we object! This is an outrage!"

Pandemonium broke out in the gallery as the naked man grabbed his raincoat and took off, flapping his arms and sprinting down the center aisle and out of the courtroom doors, with the bailiff in hot pursuit. The gallery burst into spontaneous applause at his performance, and Anne decided on the spot to pay him a bonus.

Crak! Crak! "Order! I will have order in my courtroom! Settle down, everybody! Settle down!" Judge Hoffmeier stopped banging the gavel, and the redness ebbed from his face. He straightened his glasses and glared down at Anne. "Ms. Murphy, I cannot believe my own eyes! Did you arrange that ridiculous stunt?"

"Think of it as a demonstration, Your Honor. It proves my point that if a naked man enters the courtroom, all else stops--"

"Was that man Mr. Leaver?" Judge Hoffmeier's hooded eyes widened.

"No, he works for Strippergram. He sings, too, but the case didn't call for it."

"I object, Your Honor!" Matt was yelling, but Judge Hoffmeier waved him into his seat, never taking his stern gaze from Anne.

"Ms. Murphy, are you telling me you paid a stripper to come here today?"

"Who else would get naked for money?"

"Ms. Murphy! I could cite you for contempt for this sort of thing! Send you to jail! My courtroom is not a peep show!"

"I'm sorry, Your Honor, but I couldn't think of any other way to show you. I mean, look around." Anne gestured at the gallery, now in complete disarray. People were half-standing and half-seated, laughing and talking among themselves, unable to get back in order. "See? The naked man is gone, but everybody was completely distracted by him. I was making a valid legal argument when he dropped his coat, but everybody stopped listening, including you."

Judge Hoffmeier bristled, but Anne went on.

"With all due respect, Your Honor, what just happened proves my point. If a naked man is on the jury's mind, they won't be able to focus on Mr. Martin, and he's the one on trial. They'll go into that jury room to deliberate, and a naked man is all they'll talk about. That's exactly what Federal Rule 403 was designed to prevent."

Judge Hoffmeier went speechless, and Matt simmered. The courtroom fell suddenly silent as everyone gazed, stunned, at Anne. She remained uncharacteristically mute, wondering if she could post bail with a Visa card. After a minute, Judge Hoffmeier sighed, nudged his glasses needlessly into place, and met Anne's eye.

"Ms. Murphy, I will not sanction this sort of foolishness in my courtroom. I maintain a relaxed atmosphere here, but you have evidently gotten the wrong message." The judge squared his shoulders in the voluminous robes. "I am therefore citing you for contempt, to the tune of $500. Thank your lucky stars I'm not locking you up for the weekend. But as I said, the Fourth of July is my favorite national holiday, and every American should celebrate our individual freedoms. Even Americans as absurdly free as you."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Anne said. As for the $500, she'd have to take it out of her personal savings, which would leave $17.45. She couldn't very well charge the client for keeping the lawyer out of jail. She was pretty sure it was supposed to be the other way around.

"And, Ms. Murphy, you're on notice." Judge Hoffmeier wagged his finger. "I will not tolerate another such display in my courtroom next week, or any week thereafter. Next 'demonstration' like this, you go directly to jail."

"Understood, Your Honor."

"Fine." Judge Hoffmeier paused. "Now. Well. As for defendant's motion to exclude evidence, I hereby grant the motion, albeit reluctantly. I am loathe to reward Ms. Murphy's misconduct, but I cannot penalize the defendant company for its lawyer's hare-brained schemes. I therefore rule that Ms. Feldman will not be permitted to testify at the trial of this matter, and that there will be no naked men in evidence next week, either in word or deed. So ordered!" Judge Hoffmeier banged the gavel, shaking his head.

"Thank you, Your Honor." Anne wanted to cheer, but didn't. She won. She won!

Matt rose briefly, with a scowl. "Thank you, Your Honor."

"Now, Ms. Murphy, get out of my courtroom before I return to my senses." Judge Hoffmeier got up and left the dais. "Have a good holiday, everybody."

Anne stood up as soon as the judge had left, felt a soft caress on her back, and turned. Two lawyers in fancy suits stood behind her. They were hot, successful, and evidently patronized the same custom tailor.

"That was amazing, Anne!" the one said, touching her again, though she didn't know him at all. He wore a practiced smile and a wedding band.

The other lawyer stepped closer. "Where'd you get that idea? And didn't we meet at--"

"Thanks," Anne said politely, but she didn't want to get picked up in federal court unless it was by Matt Booker. She peered past their padded shoulders at Matt, who was hunching over his briefcase, shoving papers inside. She waved, trying to get his attention, but his forehead was knitted with anger and he wouldn't look up. Then her view was blocked by the lawyers.

"How did you get the guts to do that?" the married lawyer asked, but Anne stepped around him.

"Matt!" she called, but he'd grabbed his briefcase, hurried down the center aisle, and left through the double doors. Anne didn't go after him. She couldn't apologize for representing her client. She couldn't say she was sorry she'd won. She stood there, suddenly aware that two suits were hovering over her, an entire gallery was gawking at her, and several reporters were rushing at her with notebooks drawn.

"Anne," the married lawyer said, in low tones. "I was wondering if you were busy tonight. I'd love to take you out to celebrate."

A reporter elbowed him out of the way, shouting questions in Anne's face. "Ms. Murphy, that was great! What a trick! What was the stripper's name?" The press glommed suddenly around her, like bees to a Pulitzer. "Did you think you'd go to jail?" "What did your client think about that stunt?" "Would you consider a photo shoot this week, for our 'up-and-coming' feature?"

Anne shoved her way back to counsel table for her briefcase and bag, answering none of the questions and ignoring all of the stares. She screened out the world around her, which left her feeling the way it always did, a little dead inside. But at least she'd won the motion, and she'd deserved to win. Even without any case precedent, Anne knew in her heart she was right on the law.

Mental note: Only a beautiful woman can understand the true power of a naked man.

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Interviews & Essays

Exclusive Author Essay
Bestselling phenomenon Lisa Scottoline details her memorable recipe for writing a thriller and offers a glimpse into her thorough and highly dedicated research for Courting Trouble.

Courting Writers

Many readers want to write their own thriller, and I think they should. Everyone has a book in them, and anybody who is published today was once unpublished. While it is absolutely true that there's no right way to write a thriller, you may want to look over my rules, honed now over nine suspense novels. The key is the M&Ms:

Rule 1: Start with nothing but the barest idea.
Don't plan anything in advance. Skip the outline and get started. In Courting Trouble, I began to write as soon as I had the idea of a woman solving her own murder. I didn't know what would happen next; I didn't even know what I was talking about. For me, this means go, baby, go! When you realize that your mortgage payment depends on your finishing the book, you will experience true fear. Then the suspense in your thriller will have a realistic underpinning.

Rule 2: Work like an animal and jeopardize your last chance at marital happiness.
Because I don't know if my story will work, I am filled with unnecessary anxiety during the writing process, and I work ridiculous hours. I obsess over each sentence. I massage phrases. I agonize over active verbs. I hole up in my office. I never come out. I'm Howard Hughes without the beard. See for yourself -- I'm on the webcam at www.scottoline.com. (You'll recognize me right away: I'm the only fully clothed woman on the Internet.)

Rule 3: When you get stuck, eat something.
Actually, when you get stuck, eat anything. Go downstairs to the fridge and discover the possibilities. Peanut butter and jelly with a glass of cold milk is as refreshing as you remember. Spaghetti tastes even better cold. Relish can be eaten alone. M&Ms have superpowers. When you have eaten enough, ideas about the plot will magically come into your brain. If the ideas don't magically appear, you just haven't eaten enough. Keep eating. Once you are full, you should be ready to conclude your thriller.

Rule 4: Have no idea how the mystery ends until you get there.
Don't decide until the end who did it. I used this method in Courting Trouble, and it lead to a boffo surprise ending. Nobody was more surprised than me. Other writers will say, "the book will tell you how it should end." These are the same writers who tell you that their characters write themselves. Unfortunately, my characters do not write themselves. I have slacker characters. They wait for me to do the writing for them. I don't know how they expect to pay their mortgages.

Well, now you are ready to start your thriller. I mean it. My only regret is that I was so intimidated by the process of writing that I waited so long too give it a try. I defeated myself. Well, the purpose of these dopey rules is to show you that there's no dumber way to write a thriller than I do, and even that is okay. In writing, as in life, there really are no right answers. So go for it! Enjoy yourself!

And don't let anybody tell you that you can't do it.

Even -- and especially -- you.

On Becoming Hot, Hot, Hot

I bet every woman knows somebody like Anne Murphy, the heroine of Courting Trouble. Anne is hot, hot, hot. She has long, glossy hair and long, moisturized legs. She can wear a knit dress without visible panty lines. She can eat double-thick Oreos and not gain a pound. She can walk in stilettos without falling over. To me, these qualify as superpowers.

These woman do exist. For most of us, they're not in the mirror, but they fill the pages of Cosmo. Think Homecoming Queen. Think Gwyneth Paltrow. Think Cameron Diaz, playing it smart. (I am sure this happens...but I digress.)

Anne Murphy isn't my typical heroine, but for just once in my life -- about 385 pages, to be exact -- I wanted to be the kind of a woman who causes men to crane their necks and crash their Corvettes. I wanted great-looking guys to fight over me. Suck up to me. Do me favors. Light my cigarette. (I don't smoke, but I could start.) And most important, I wanted to understand what it was like to be that kind of woman. Was it as great as it seems?

The only way to find out was to introduce this total babe into the all-woman law firm of Rosato & Associates, where the girls lack superpowers but are a lot of fun -- for lawyers. As Courting Trouble opens, Anne is being pursued by hunky Matt Booker, who has eyelashes too long to be wasted on a man and unfortunately works on the other side of a lawsuit Anne is about to take to trial. Still, she can't help but fantasize about sleeping with the enemy, and who can blame her? She's a redhead, which is a blonde with poor impulse control, and this is America. We have a First Amendment right to fantasize, which is why we love romance novels and Brad Pitt.

To create Anne's character -- since she is so different from me, a mere mortal -- I had to do research, like any careful writer. In the past, for my other suspense novels, my research has included shooting revolvers, hanging with detectives, and squinting at disgusting slides with a medical examiner. But not for Courting Trouble. To flesh out Anne Murphy, my first research mission was to hightail it to Nordstrom's in the King of Prussia mall, where I spent two hours and way too much money on three pairs of totally sexy shoes. "Mules," they're called, which means you pay extra so your heels can fall out the back. One pair is black leather. One pair is butterscotch suede. And one pair is LEOPARD PRINT!!! Oh baby. Oh.

Now, I know this sounds a lot like I just went shopping, but it's really research. Research, I tell you! Because these are the kind of shoes that Anne Murphy and Gywneth and Cameron wear all the time, and so I had to wear them, too. To channel Anne and also to see if I could run in them like she has to. She runs a lot in this book -- away from bad guys, toward good guys. Running, running, running. Lotsa men and lotsa running. Lotsa love. Lotsa romance. A sexy scene on a leather couch. And above all, some really awesome mules.

So you may be wondering -- was being hot, hot, hot, all it's cracked up to be? Of course it was!

And remember, you have First Amendment rights, too. (Lisa Scottoline)

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Reading Group Guide

Introduction

Many book clubs have written Lisa asking for questions to guide their discussion, so Lisa came up with a bunch for each book. Her goal in writing books is to entertain, so it goes without saying that Lisa wants you to have lots of fun discussing her books, and has reflected that in her questions. She provides the talking points, and you and your group shape the conversation. So go ahead, get together, chat it up with your friends, discuss books, kids, and relationships, but by all means, have fun.

Questions

  1. Anne is hot, young, and nice. Or is she?

  2. Why do women hate/compete with/not support other women? Or is Lisa just feeling cranky?

  3. This formerly chummy law firm doesn't look so chummy from the outside. How does this happen? Who is right and who's at fault? And why do some people dye their hair blue?

  4. Is Anne smart to play dead?

  5. What would it be like to have tons of men but no girlfriends? Who would like to try?

  6. Is Anne insanely reckless or is she just bold?

  7. Isn't a convertible more fun than any other car in the world? Why don't more women drive them? Should you put a baby seat in one? Why doesn't Lisa just go right out and get herself one? God knows she deserves it, and doesn't need to put a baby seat in it.

  8. Are Anne's disguises fun or just silly? Do they serve a greater purpose? Are some characters more prone to disguises and why?

  9. Let's talk about belonging and patriotism. Sooner or later somebody will get choked up. Lisa always does.

About the author

Lisa Scottoline is a New York Timesbestselling author and former trial lawyer. She has won the Edgar Award, the highest prize in suspense fiction, and the Distinguished Author Award from the Weinberg Library of the University of Scranton. She has served as the Leo Goodwin Senior Professor of Law and Popular Culture at Nova Southeastern Law School, and her novels are used by bar associations for the ethical issues they present. Her books are published in more than twenty languages. She lives with her family in the Philadelphia area.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 54 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(20)

4 Star

(14)

3 Star

(11)

2 Star

(4)

1 Star

(5)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 54 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 20, 2014

    Shadow is dead

    Ru

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 10, 2014

    Aztec Marine

    Nods and teleprts out by using the MCC teleportstion systems...

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

    Posted April 10, 2014

    Us guard

    Goes and unlocks shafows cell. Be free. Gtgtb

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted August 24, 2013

    If you like Lisa Scottoline......

    If you like to read LisaScottolines books......you will like this one. Similar to the rest of the series

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted September 25, 2011

    Always a good read

    A highly readable book. I love Lisa Scottoline, but prefer the storyline to center on Bennie Rosato.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted April 13, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Truly an unusual approach to mystery!

    Never before have I read a book narrated by a dog, but this one is worth the effort. As we not only learn about the more mundane aspects of a dog's life, but also become involved in his adventures, we are drawn into a world that most of us never imagined.

    The story itself is not a thriler, but entertaining. It is the dog's dialogue that captures the hearts of those of us who own a dog or want to own one.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted February 28, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    Great Thriller

    Being a new reader of Lisa Scottoline I was very impressed with the attention getting drama. This is a great story with alot of twists. Great read!!!!

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

    Posted August 27, 2006

    Amazing and in Awe

    This was my third book that I have read by Ms. Scottoline. The scene in the Di Nunzio's kitchen toward the end left me weeping for days. Writing truly does not get any better than this. I tip my hat to Lisa!

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

    Posted May 1, 2006

    My First Scottoline Legal Thriller -but not my last

    I love the way that Lisa Scottoline develops her characters with lots of details about their personalities. She weaves a web that entwines these characters into a legal maze that has many sharp turns and bumps along the way to keep your attention right through the last page. I have read several of Lisa Scottoline's books and hope to read them all eventually. Right now I am working on Running From the Law.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 1, 2004

    first one

    This was the first Scottoline book I ever read and I loved it. I've been hooked on her books ever since. I've read 4 or 5 of her other ones now and they are great too, but this one was my favorite! She is my favorite writer (it used to be Grisham, but not anymore).

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

    Posted July 23, 2004

    Wonderful Book

    This book got me hooked on Lisa Scottoline. It is soooo interesting with a surprise ending. I love it.

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

    Posted July 8, 2003

    Interesting, but Not blown away

    This is the first time I have this author. I enjoyed the story, but some of the situations, were just plain unbelievable. I felt it was a little wordy in areas. Maybe I will try another one of her books someday

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

    Posted April 23, 2003

    Quick, easy read

    Exciting and fast paced, although a bit unbeleiveable at times, this book is a good one for the summer. Anne Murphy is a very well developed character. I did like Lisa Scottoline's other books more, though.

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

    Posted April 3, 2003

    The Best Murder Mystery ever!

    Lisa Scottoline is a really good writter this is the first book that I have read by her and the best muerder mystery book about a lawyer I've ever read!!!

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

    Posted February 13, 2003

    Totally unbelievable

    In some cases unbelievable might be used in a favorable way, but not here. The story line just was too unrealistic and filled with happenings that made no sense. I have read Lisa Scottoline before and found her fun, but not this time.

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

    Posted October 14, 2002

    Fun, easy read

    I read the other posts, but I really enjoyed the book. She made me smile with her quirky actions and her various moods of her cat. I haven't read her other books, so if everyone thinks they are better than this one, I am anxious to read them.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 12, 2002

    The Happiest Murder Mystery that I've Ever Read!

    I am really surprised at the negative reviews for Lisa's latest book! As soon as I read it, I e-mailed her to tell her that she can no longer be called the "female John Grisham." She has long since overcome that title and established her own identity as a top humorous legal thriller writer--with heart! Courting Trouble is her best yet. By the way, she responded right away and thanked me for the kind words. She said that she was in the middle of a month-long book tour and that my cheerful e-mail helped her to remember why she was doing what she was doing! Moral: Authors need encouragement too!

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

    Posted September 21, 2002

    A little unrealistic......

    This book had such potential, but ended up failing. Just when it would start to get good, the plot would take a turn that was not realistic at all. Not to mention there were tons of mispelled words and wrong words all together that didn't make sense in the sentence. Don't waste your time.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 14, 2002

    Audiobook version is even worse!

    As many reader reviews previous to this one point out, COURTING TROUBLE is an amazingly annoying book from a talented author. The heroine is supposed to be funny but merely comes across as idiotic and insipid. This review is to warn unsuspecting audiobook buyers to beware---the audio version is even worse! The narrator can represent multiple voices but misses the humor by 10 miles. The delivery is obnoxious and very unfunny.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 8, 2002

    When smart women act stupid, it's annoying!!

    Tiresome 'mental notes', tiresome 'plan Bs', tiresome I Love Lucy references. I disliked the Anne Murphy character from the moment she theatrically won a motion in the overly legalese 1st chapter. My opinion didn't change with chapter after chapter of smart women who should know better doing cringe inducing stupid things.

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 54 Customer Reviews

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