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High Five (Stephanie Plum Series #5)

High Five (Stephanie Plum Series #5)

4.5 519
by Janet Evanovich

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Out of bail skippers and rent money, Stephanie Plum throws caution to the wind and follows in the entrepreneurial bootsteps of Super Bounty Hunter, Ranger, engaging in morally correct and marginally legal enterprises. So, a scumball blows himself to smithereens on her first day of policing a crack house and the sheik she was chauffeuring stole the limo. But hey,


Out of bail skippers and rent money, Stephanie Plum throws caution to the wind and follows in the entrepreneurial bootsteps of Super Bounty Hunter, Ranger, engaging in morally correct and marginally legal enterprises. So, a scumball blows himself to smithereens on her first day of policing a crack house and the sheik she was chauffeuring stole the limo. But hey, nobody's perfect! Anyway, Stephanie has other things on her mind. Her mother wants her to find Uncle Fred who's missing after arguing with his garbage company; homicidal rapist Benito Ramirez is back, quoting scripture and stalking Stephanie; vice cop Joe Morelli has a box of condoms with Stephanie's name on it; and Stephanie's afraid Ranger has his finger on her trigger. The whole gang's here for mirth and mayhem in Janet Evanovich's High Five. Read at your own risk in public places.

Editorial Reviews

The Barnes & Noble Review
From the day Stephanie Plum first started tracking down bail jumpers for her cousin Vinnie, neither bounty hunting nor the city of Trenton have ever been the same. Now, in High Five, Janet Evanovich's fifth installment in the Plum series, New Jersey's most entertaining bounty hunter is back on the trail again with the monstrous powder-blue Buick and the usual cast of zany characters at her side. There's stun-gun-packing Grandma Mazur, who has redefined the term "riding shotgun," and Lula, the black, bodacious, and bountiful hooker-turned-file-clerk who is just itching to bag herself a bail jumper. Of course, there's also vice officer Joe Morelli, with his fine-fitting jeans and a way of making Stephanie forget all but his presence. But after getting a little too close for comfort in the last book, Stephanie and Morelli have agreed to step back and take things slower, which allows Ranger — Stephanie's sexy and mysterious mentor — to step in and give Morelli a run for his money.

Stephanie's big case this time is a personal one, the result of high pressure from the family and an extremely low caseload at the office. She is trying to find her missing Uncle Fred, who went to the bank and grocery store three days ago and never returned. The only clue is a picture of an unidentifiable body in a garbage bag. While Stephanie is only too happy to help out the family, there is the little matter of the rent to pay and food to buy, and Uncle Fred's case is a freebie. Hoping to make enough to tide her over for a short while, Stephanie makes two fatal decisions. The first is toaskRanger, who never seems to be at a loss for money or sleek and sexy black cars, if he has any jobs she can do to tide her over. The second is to bring in what appears to be a low-paying but easy-to-find bail jumper, Randy Briggs. This second option looks like even easier money when Stephanie discovers Briggs is all of three feet tall, but Briggs, who gets a tad testy when he's called a midget, isn't as easy as he looks and refuses to be brought in by a "loser" like Stephanie. His success in avoiding capture and his constant taunting push Stephanie over the edge until finally, in a fit of pique, she bashes in his door and practically throws him down a flight of stairs.

Meanwhile, Ranger offers Stephanie a series of jobs that quickly become a series of disasters. But there is pay involved and the side perk of a company car, which frees Stephanie from having to drive the hated but seemingly indestructible Buick. Problem is, Stephanie has always had a penchant for having things blow up or burn down around her, and both her new jobs and her new wheels are short-lived as a result. To make matters worse, her investigation into Uncle Fred's disappearance is going nowhere and there's a nasty bookie following her around, making her life miserable. About the only good thing in Stephanie's life is the way both Morelli and Ranger seem determined to get her into bed. But neither of them is likely to get very far, since Stephanie has virtually no privacy. Not only is the mysterious bookie showing up inside her apartment unannounced; Randy Briggs has moved himself in lock, stock, and attitude, feeling it's only fair that Stephanie put him up while the door she ruined back at his own place is being repaired.

As disturbing details about Uncle Fred's disappearance surface, the body count for both people and cars mounts. Will Stephanie be able to solve the mystery before a vicious killer comes after her? Will she get her man in the end? (And in the case of Morelli and Ranger, which man will it be?) The answer is yes on all counts, but not before plenty of wisecracking comments, madcap adventures, and sidesplitting fun.

Beth Amos

bn.com editor
In High Five, Uncle Fred is missing, and even though crazy Grandma Mazur is convinced he's been abducted by aliens, Stephanie tries to sniff out her luckless relative nonetheless. But finding dear ole Fred isn't all that's gonna land on Stephanie's plate before this one's done.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Actress Mazar (Goodfellas) has just the right sassy streetwise accent to fit the first-person voice of Evanovich's hero, Stephanie Plum. Mazar sounds poised yet real in her role as the New Jersey-based bounty hunter (the fifth adventure in the series and the second reading for Mazar). She gamely throws herself into the dramatic "bits" along the way, playing out the dialogue scenes with relish. Plum is a tough character, coolly navigating her way through the male-dominated terrain of North Jersey's criminal element. But she's also fragile on the inside, sensitive and haunted by the violence and chaos in her life. Her boss, her cousin Vinnie, runs a business that naturally attracts lowlifes prone to nasty crimes: a man blows himself up with a bomb, a homicidal boxer is on the rampage. Meantime, the love of Plum's life, Morelli, a rakish Trenton vice cop, treats her badly. But her luck isn't all bad, as when she is given a Porsche (she rationalizes, "When you had a car like this, you didn't mind so much that your boyfriend was boinking a skank"). On tape, Plum's attitude holds more sway than the plot, as she sails from case to case with a blistering irreverence that's sure to keep listeners charmed. Based on the 1999 St. Martin's hardcover. (July) Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
This time, Stephanie Plum has a lot on her plate: she's dodging a homicidal rapist, hunting for a missing uncle, and tangling with a topnotch bounty hunter named Ranger.
Kirkus Reviews
Stephanie Plum, the bodacious bounty-hunter from Trenton, New Jersey, returns for her fifth adventure (Four to Score, 1998, etc.). Or rather misadventure, since nothing ever goes right for Stephanie, thank heaven. This time out the trouble (and fun) starts when Steph's mom informs her that Uncle Fred is missing. Actually, nobody could really miss the disagreeable old coot, but he is family. And either the Plums stick together, Stephanie's told, or they get picked off separately. Besides, not much is happening in the way of miscreants jumping bail, which means she's got time on her hands. The hunt commences. Soon enough, Steph discovers that dead-head Fred is connected to some high-powered scams nobody would have believed he had the gumption for. In turn, this has the effect of connecting Steph to various hard guys who mean her serious harm. So she scrambles an egg and downs a multivitamin with her orange juice: "A healthy breakfast to start the day off right — just in case I lived through the morning." The ensuing complications include: Champ Ramirez, that no-account sociopath, freed from the slammer and on the prowl for her; hunkish Detective Joe Morelli and his special kind of prowling — everlastingly lustful; and now senior bounty-hunter Ranger the dangerous, her erstwhile mentor, casting looks at her that are distinctly non-mentorish. What's a Jersey girl to do about all this? Something outrageous, of course, that leads to a mad chase on the turnpike — and readers grinning appreciatively at another wonderful romp. Savvy, sassy, sexy Stephanie — good to have her back.

From the Publisher
“Actress Mazar has just the right sassy streetwise accent to fit the first-person voice of Evanovich's hero, Stephanie Plum. Mazar sounds poised yet real in her role as the New Jersey-based bounty hunter. She gamely throws herself into the dramatic ‘bits' along the way, playing out the dialogue scenes with relish.” —Publishers Weekly

Product Details

St. Martin's Press
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Stephanie Plum Series , #5
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Read an Excerpt

High Five

By Janet Evanovich

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 1999 Evanovich, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-7139-3


When I was a little girl I used to dress Barbie up without underpants. On the outside, she'd look like the perfect lady. Tasteful plastic heels, tailored suit. But underneath, she was naked. I'm a bail enforcement agent now — also known as a fugitive apprehension agent, also known as a bounty hunter. I bring 'em back dead or alive. At least I try. And being a bail enforcement agent is sort of like being bare-bottom Barbie. It's about having a secret. And it's about wearing a lot of bravado on the outside when you're really operating without underpants. Okay, maybe it's not like that for all enforcement agents, but I frequently feel like my privates are alfresco. Figuratively speaking, of course.

At the moment I wasn't feeling nearly so vulnerable. What I was feeling at the moment was desperate. My rent was due, and Trenton had run out of scofflaws. I had my hands palms down on Connie Rosolli's desk, my feet planted wide, and hard as I tried, I couldn't keep my voice from sounding like it was coming out of Minnie Mouse. "What do you mean, there are no FTAs? There are always FTAs."

"Sorry," Connie said. "We've got lots of bonds posted, but nobody's jumping. Must have something to do with the moon."

FTA is short for failure to appear for a court date. Going FTA is a definite no-no in the criminal justice system, but that doesn't usually stop people from doing it.

Connie slid a manila folder over to me. "This is the only FTA I've got, and it's not worth much."

Connie is the office manager for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. She's a couple of years older than me, which puts her in her early thirties. She wears her hair teased high. She takes grief from no one. And if breasts were money, Connie'd be Bill Gates.

"Vinnie's overjoyed," Connie said. "He's making money by the fistful. No bounty hunters to pay. No forfeited bonds. Last time I saw Vinnie in a mood like this was when Madame Zaretsky was arrested for pandering and sodomy and put her trained dog up as collateral for her bond."

I cringed at the mental image this produced because not only is Vincent Plum my employer, he's also my cousin. I blackmailed him into taking me on as an apprehension agent at a low moment in my life and have come to sort of like the job ... most of the time. That doesn't mean I have any illusions about Vinnie. For the most part, Vinnie is an okay bondsman. But privately, Vinnie is a boil on the backside of my family tree.

As a bail bondsman Vinnie gives the court a cash bond as a securement that the accused will return for trial. If the accused takes a hike, Vinnie forfeits his money. Since this isn't an appealing prospect to Vinnie, he sends me out to find the accused and drag him back into the system. My fee is 10 percent of the bond, and I only collect it if I'm successful.

I flipped the folder open and read the bond agreement. "Randy Briggs. Arrested for carrying concealed. Failed to appear at his court hearing." The bond amount was seven hundred dollars. That meant I'd get seventy. Not a lot of money for risking my life by going after someone who was known to carry.

"I don't know," I said to Connie, "this guy carries a knife."

Connie looked at her copy of Briggs' arrest sheet. "It says here it was a small knife, and it wasn't sharp."

"How small?"

"Eight inches."

"That isn't small!"

"Nobody else will take this," Connie said. "Ranger doesn't take anything under ten grand."

Ranger is my mentor and a world-class tracker. Ranger also never seems to be in dire need of rent money. Ranger has other sources of income.

I looked at the photo attached to Briggs' file. Briggs didn't look so bad. In his forties, narrow-faced and balding, Caucasian. Job description was listed as self-employed computer programmer.

I gave a sigh of resignation and stuffed the folder into my shoulder bag. "I'll go talk to him."

"Probably he just forgot," Connie said. "Probably this is a piece of cake."

I gave her my yeah, right look and left. It was Monday morning and traffic was humming past Vinnie's storefront office. The October sky was as blue as sky gets in New Jersey, and the air felt crisp and lacking in hydrocarbons. It was nice for a change, but it kind of took all the sport out of breathing.

A new red Firebird slid to curbside behind my '53 Buick. Lula got out of the car and stood hands on hips, shaking her head. "Girl, you still driving that pimpmobile?"

Lula did filing for Vinnie and knew all about pimpmobiles firsthand since in a former life she'd been a 'ho. She's what is gently referred to as a big woman, weighing in at a little over two hundred pounds, standing fivefoot- five, looking like most of her weight's muscle. This week her hair was dyed orange and came off very autumn with her dark brown skin.

"This is a classic car," I told Lula. Like we both knew I really gave a fig about classic cars. I was driving The Beast because my Honda had caught fire and burned to a cinder, and I didn't have any money to replace it. So here I was, borrowing my uncle Sandor's gas-guzzling behemoth ... again.

"Problem is, you aren't living up to your earning potential," Lula said. "We only got chickenshit cases these days. What you need is to have a serial killer or a homicidal rapist jump bail. Those boys are worth something."

"Yeah, I'd sure like to get a case like that." Big fib. If Vinnie ever gave me a homicidal rapist to chase down I'd quit and get a job selling shoes.

Lula marched into the office, and I slid behind the wheel and reread the Briggs file. Randy Briggs had given the same address for home and work. Cloverleaf Apartments on Grand Avenue. It wasn't far from the office. Maybe a mile. I pulled into traffic, made an illegal U-turn at the intersection, and followed Hamilton to Grand.

The Cloverleaf Apartments building was two blocks down Grand. It was redbrick-faced and strictly utilitarian. Three stories. A front and a back entrance. Small lot to the rear. No ornamentation. Aluminum-framed windows that were popular in the fifties and looked cheesy now.

I parked in the lot and walked into the small lobby. There was an elevator to one side and stairs to the other. The elevator looked claustrophobic and unreliable, so I took the stairs to the second floor. Briggs was 2B. I stood outside his door for a moment, listening. Nothing drifted out. No television. No talking. I pressed the doorbell and stood to the side, so I wasn't visible through the security peephole.

Randy Briggs opened his door and stuck his head out. "Yeah?"

He looked exactly like his photo, with sandy blond hair that was neatly combed, cut short. He was unbearded, unblemished. Dressed in clean khakis and a button-down shirt. Just like I'd expected from his file ... except he was only three feet tall. Randy Briggs was vertically challenged.

"Oh, shit," I said, looking down at him.

"What's the matter?" he said. "You never see a short person before?"

"Only on television." '

"Guess this is your lucky day."

I handed him my business card. "I represent Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. You've missed your court date, and we'd appreciate it if you'd reschedule."

"No," Briggs said.

"Excuse me?"

"No. I'm not going to reschedule. No. I'm not going to court. It was a bogus arrest."

"The way our system works is that you're supposed to tell that to the judge."

"Fine. Go get the judge."

"The judge doesn't do house calls."

"Listen, I got a lot of work to do," Briggs said, closing his door. "I gotta go."

"Hold it!" I said. "You can't just ignore an order to appear in court."

"Watch me."

"You don't understand. I'm appointed by the court and Vincent Plum to bring you in."

"Oh, yeah? How do you expect to do that? You going to shoot me? You can't shoot an unarmed man." He stuck his hands out.

"You gonna cuff me? You think you can drag me out of my apartment and down the hall without looking like an idiot? Big bad bounty hunter picking on a little person. And that's what we're called, Toots. Not midget, not dwarf, not a freaking Munchkin. Little person. Get it?"

My pager went off at my waist. I looked down to check the read-out and slam. Briggs closed and locked his door.

"Loser," he called from inside.

Well, that didn't go as smoothly as I'd hoped. I had a choice now. I could break down his door and beat the bejeezus out of him, or I could answer my mother's page. Neither was especially appealing, but I decided on my mother.

My parents live in a residential pocket of Trenton nicknamed the Burg. No one ever really leaves the Burg. You can relocate in Antarctica, but if you were born and raised in the Burg you're a Burger for life. Houses are small and obsessively neat. Televisions are large and loud. Lots are narrow. Families are extended. There are no pooper-scooper laws in the Burg. If your dog does his business on someone else's lawn, the next morning the doodoo will be on your front porch. Life is simple in the Burg.

I put the Buick into gear, rolled out of the apartment building lot, headed for Hamilton, and followed Hamilton to St. Francis Hospital. My parents live a couple blocks behind St. Francis on Roosevelt Street. Their house is a duplex built at a time when families needed only one bathroom and dishes were washed by hand.

My mother was at the door when I pulled to the curb. My grandmother Mazur stood elbow to elbow with my mother. They were short, slim women with facial features that suggested Mongol ancestors ... probably in the form of crazed marauders.

"Thank goodness you're here," my mother said, eyeing me as I got out of the car and walked toward her. "What are those shoes? They look like work boots."

"Betty Szajak and Emma Getz and me went to that male dancer place last week," Grandma said, "and they had some men parading around, looking like construction workers, wearing boots just like those. Then next thing you knew they ripped their clothes off and all they had left was those boots and these little silky black baggie things that their ding-dongs jiggled around in."

My mother pressed her lips together and made the sign of the cross. "You didn't tell me about this," she said to my grandmother.

"Guess it slipped my mind. Betty and Emma and me were going to bingo at the church, but it turned out there wasn't any bingo on account of the Knights of Columbus was holding some to-do there. So we decided to check out the men at that new club downtown." Grandma gave me an elbow. "I put a fiver right in one of those baggies!"

"Jesus H. Christ," my father said, rattling his paper in the living room.

Grandma Mazur came to live with my parents several years ago when my grandpa Mazur went to the big poker game in the sky. My mother accepts this as a daughter's obligation. My father has taken to reading Guns & Ammo.

"So what's up?" I asked. "Why did you page me?"

"We need a detective," Grandma said.

My mother rolled her eyes and ushered me into the kitchen. "Have a cookie," she said, setting the cookie jar on the small Formica-topped kitchen table. "Can I get you a glass of milk? Some lunch?"

I lifted the lid on the cookie jar and looked inside. Chocolate chip. My favorite.

"Tell her," Grandma said to my mother, giving her a poke in the side. "Wait until you hear this," she said to me. "This is a good one."

I raised my eyebrows at my mother.

"We have a family problem," my mother said. "Your uncle Fred is missing. He went out to the store and hasn't come home yet."

"When did he go out?"


I paused with a cookie halfway to my mouth. "It's Monday!"

"Isn't this a pip?" Grandma said. "I bet he was beamed up by aliens."

Uncle Fred is married to my grandma Mazur's first cousin Mabel. If I had to guess his age I'd have to say somewhere between seventy and infinity. Once people start to stoop and wrinkle they all look alike to me. Uncle Fred was someone I saw at weddings and funerals and once in a while at Giovichinni's Meat Market, ordering a quarter pound of olive loaf. Eddie Such, the butcher, would have the olive loaf on the scale and Uncle Fred would say, "You've got the olive loaf on a piece of waxed paper. How much does that piece of waxed paper weigh? You're not gonna charge me for that waxed paper, are you? I want some money off for the waxed paper."

I shoved the cookie into my mouth. "Have you filed a missing persons report with the police?"

"Mabel did that first thing," my mother said.


"And they haven't found him."

I went to the refrigerator and poured out a glass of milk for myself. "What about the car? Did they find the car?"

"The car was in the Grand Union parking lot. It was all locked up nice and neat."

"He was never right after that stroke he had in ninety-five," Grandma said. "I don't think his elevator went all the way to the top anymore, if you know what I mean. He could have just wandered off like one of those Alzheimer's people. Anybody think to check the cereal aisle in the supermarket? Maybe he's just standing there 'cause he can't make up his mind."

My father mumbled something from the living room about my grandmother's elevator, and my mother slid my father a dirty look through the kitchen wall.

I thought it was too weird. Uncle Fred was missing. This sort of thing just didn't happen in our family. "Did anybody go out to look for him?"

"Ronald and Walter. They covered all the neighborhoods around the Grand Union, but nobody's seen him."

Ronald and Walter were Fred's sons. And probably they'd enlisted their kids to help, too.

"We figure you're just the person to take a crack at this," Grandma said, "on account of that's what you do ... you find people."

"I find criminals."

"Your aunt Mabel would be grateful if you'd look for Fred," my mother said. "Maybe you could just go over and talk to her and see what you think."

"She needs a detective," I said. "I'm not a detective."

"Mabel asked for you. She said she didn't want this going out of the family."

My internal radar dish started to hum. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"What's to tell?" my mother said. "A man wandered off from his car."

I drank my milk and rinsed the glass. "Okay, I'll go talk to Aunt Mabel. But I'm not promising anything."

Uncle Fred and Aunt Mabel live on Baker Street, on the fringe of the Burg, three blocks over from my parents. Their ten-year-old Pontiac station wagon was parked at the curb and just about spanned the length of their rowhouse. They've lived in the rowhouse for as long as I can remember, raising two children, entertaining five grandchildren, and annoying the hell out of each other for over fifty years.

Aunt Mabel answered my knock on her door. She was a rounder, softer version of Grandma Mazur. Her white hair was perfectly permed. She was dressed in yellow polyester slacks and a matching floral blouse. Her earrings were large clip-ons, her lipstick was a bright red, and her eyebrows were brown crayon.

"Well, isn't this nice," Aunt Mabel said. "Come into the kitchen. I got a coffee cake from Giovichinni today. It's the good kind, with the almonds."

Certain proprieties were observed in the Burg. No matter that your husband was kidnapped by aliens, visitors were offered coffee cake.

I followed after Aunt Mabel and waited while she cut the cake. She poured out coffee and sat opposite me at the kitchen table.

"I suppose your mother told you about your uncle Fred," she said. "Fifty-two years of marriage, and poof, he's gone."

"Did Uncle Fred have any medical problems?"

"The man was healthy as a horse."

"How about his stroke?"

"Well, yes, but everybody has a stroke once in a while. And that stroke didn't slow him down any. Most of the time he remembered things no one else would remember. Like that business with the garbage. Who would remember a thing like that? Who would even care about it? Such a fuss over nothing."

I knew I was going to regret asking, but I felt compelled. "What about the garbage?"

Mabel helped herself to a piece of coffee cake. "Last month there was a new driver on the garbage truck, and he skipped over our house. It only happened once, but would my husband forget a thing like that? No. Fred never forgot anything. Especially if it had to do with money. So at the end of the month Fred wanted two dollars back on account of we pay quarterly, you see, and Fred had already paid for the missed day."


Excerpted from High Five by Janet Evanovich. Copyright © 1999 Evanovich, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Janet Evanovich is the author of the Stephanie Plum books, including One for the Money and Sizzling Sixteen, and the Diesel&Tucker series, including Wicked Appetite. Janet studied painting at Douglass College, but that art form never quite fit, and she soon moved on to writing stories. She didn't have instant success: she collected a big box of rejection letters. As she puts it, "When the box was full I burned the whole damn thing, crammed myself into pantyhose and went to work for a temp agency." But after a few months of secretarial work, she managed to sell her first novel for $2,000. She immediately quit her job and started working full-time as a writer. After a dozen romance novels, she switched to mystery, and created Stephanie Plum. The rest is history. Janet's favorite exercise is shopping, and her drug of choice is Cheeze Doodles. She and her husband live in New Hampshire, in house with a view of the Connecticut River Valley.
Janet Evanovich is the author of the Stephanie Plum books, including One for the Money and Sizzling Sixteen, and the Diesel&Tucker series, including Wicked Appetite. Janet studied painting at Douglass College, but that art form never quite fit, and she soon moved on to writing stories. She didn’t have instant success: she collected a big box of rejection letters. As she puts it, “When the box was full I burned the whole damn thing, crammed myself into pantyhose and went to work for a temp agency.” But after a few months of secretarial work, she managed to sell her first novel for $2,000. She immediately quit her job and started working full-time as a writer. After a dozen romance novels, she switched to mystery, and created Stephanie Plum. The rest is history. Janet’s favorite exercise is shopping, and her drug of choice is Cheeze Doodles.

Brief Biography

Hanover, New Hampshire
Date of Birth:
April 22, 1943
Place of Birth:
South River, New Jersey
B.A., Douglass College, 1965

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High Five (Stephanie Plum Series #5) 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 519 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
So for I have read every book in this series up until this book. It is rediculously good. I can not wait to read the whole series!
Guest More than 1 year ago
I take the bus to and from work everyday and ALWAYS have my nose stuck in a book. I read High Five first of all of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series and laughed all the way to work. People kept looking at me and a few even stopped me to see what I was reading. I have to say, of all of Janet's Plum series, Two for the Dough was my favorite with High Five coming in second.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I continue to read this series because it is a fun, easy read. The character development (both good and bad guys) throughout the series is great. A previous reviewer of the series commented that the plot is quite repetitive from book to book. It is true: bounty hunter is broke and hungy, bounty hunter gets trivial but humorous cases and also gets involved over her head in a more serious case where she is shot at or her car is blown up or apartment ransacked or set on fire. Bounty hunter has on and off again relationship and is toying with a second affair. Bounty hunter solves cases, eats and all ends well. Despite the same plot, the author writes with great wit and sense of humor that keeps me engaged in the series. I alternate these books with heavier reading.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very good book , You will laugh your head off.
pturnerMD More than 1 year ago
Love the story line. There is always adventure and lots of good laughter. I just chuckle as I read and love Stephanie's nature to find good in everything that is going on. It keeps you interested throughout the whole book.
romantic-mystery-buff More than 1 year ago
very entertaining. mystery series, with a touch of romance, and laughable moments. i love the series.
jdyxoxo More than 1 year ago
Love them all
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I like ms Plum's charactor
kaitlynlenhart More than 1 year ago
This series is phenomenal
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Wish i could afford the whole set all at once!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Series was recommended by my doctor and I am so glad she did. Stephanie Plum is an accident waiting to happen in every situation. I laughed out loud when I read this book. Planning on reading the whole series.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I think this is the best yet!!!!
Pip_M More than 1 year ago
I always know when I begin a new book in the Stephanie Plum series that I will be highly entertained. I find myself laughing out loud every page or two! This series of books is a nice break from more serious reading. The books are short, the characters hilarious and interesting. I will continue to read each book in the series, as long as Janet Evanovich keeps writing them.
LittleLAM More than 1 year ago
Oh I didnt once put this book down - Ive so fallen in love with Grandma and Lula and poor Steph! - Shes great - This is a series anyone who is light harted could fall in love with!
Dorinda More than 1 year ago
What a cliff-hanger ending! Ready to start #6!
Teresa Comeaux More than 1 year ago
Awesom, fast readiinng, great characters
Anonymous 4 months ago
Dolphinsplash will you please. You would be the first queen we have. Harry potter and myth res 1. We will respect you. We have a med cat.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book will definitely have you laughing.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great story little bummed that she left out the steamy parts or who Stephanie was with in the end. I'm guessing Ranger ?)
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Thanks ZACH
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
SallyPinkReviews More than 1 year ago
Evanovich pens another delightful romp with Stephanie Plum through Trenton, New Jersey with "High Five." Uncle Fred has gone missing and it's slow at the bond agency so Stephanie decides to help out and look for her uncle. Unfortunately, all she gets is trouble. Stephanie meets with Aunt Mabel and learns Fred was in a dispute with the garbage company. She discovers Fred was cheap, a cheater, and had photos of a dead person. She reports them to the police. Soon she's being followed by a bookie named "Bunchy" who wants to find Fred, too. When she finally brings in a bail jumper named "Briggs," she's forced to take him into her house when his is wrecked. Lula comes back to help Stephanie's investigations and Grandma Mazur tucks her gun into her handbag for an assist as well. Ranger offers Stephanie work to get by and both discover an attraction. Can Stephanie find out what happened to Uncle Fred before more people die at the garbage company? Evanovich's writing is crisp, witty, and easy to read. The narrative will make you smile and then have you anxious about what's going to happen next. The supporting cast consists of endearing characters that will have you cheering for them. Stephanie is a very likeable heroine, admirable to a fault, still struggling to find her way, but it's reassuring to know she's on the right path. "High Five" is another excellent story and a "must read" in the Stephanie Plum series. It's full of smiles, laughs, and nonstop action. I highly recommend this book.