One False Move (Myron Bolitar Series #5)

( 98 )

Overview

It’s no secret that Harlan Coben’s name is synonymous with unrelenting suspense. In this compelling fifth novel in his acclaimed Myron Bolitar series, the unforgettable sports agent agrees to protect basketball star Brenda Slaughter while trying to unravel the tragic riddle of her life.

As a big-time New York sports agent, Myron has a professional interest in Brenda. Then a personal one. But between them isn’t just the difference in their backgrounds or the color of their skin. ...

See more details below
Paperback (Mass Market Paperback)
$9.09
BN.com price
(Save 9%)$9.99 List Price

Pick Up In Store

Reserve and pick up in 60 minutes at your local store

Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (115) from $1.99   
  • New (12) from $5.45   
  • Used (103) from $1.99   
One False Move (Myron Bolitar Series #5)

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK Study
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$7.99
BN.com price

Overview

It’s no secret that Harlan Coben’s name is synonymous with unrelenting suspense. In this compelling fifth novel in his acclaimed Myron Bolitar series, the unforgettable sports agent agrees to protect basketball star Brenda Slaughter while trying to unravel the tragic riddle of her life.

As a big-time New York sports agent, Myron has a professional interest in Brenda. Then a personal one. But between them isn’t just the difference in their backgrounds or the color of their skin. Between them is a chasm of corruption and lies, a vicious young mafioso on the make, and one secret that some people are dying to keep–and others are killing to protect.

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
"A slam dunk ... You race to turn the pages ... both suspenseful and often surprisingly funny."—People

"Terrific."—Boston Globe

"A winner."—Orlando Sentinel

"Fast-paced ... layered with both tenderness and fun ... Coben [is] a gifted storyteller."—Denver Post

“Myron Bolitar is one of the most engaging heroes in mystery fiction. One False Move is a blast from start to finish.”—Dennis Lehane

“Must reading . . . combines Chandler’s wry wit with Ross MacDonald’s moral complexity.”—Philadelphia Enquirer

Chicago Tribune
Call One False Move a slam dunk.
Philadelphia Inquirer
Must reading....Combines Chandler's wry wit with Ross Macdonald's moral complexity.
Los Angeles Times
Poignant and insightful... Myron is gallant, likeable and delightfully original.
Houston Chronicle
Consistently entertaining.... Coben moves himself into the front ranks of mystery fiction alongside heavy hitters like Robert B. Parker, Sue Grafton and Robert Crais...And what a plot. Coben unwinds his most twisted, double-backing, surprise-packed story line yet.
San Antonio Express-News
Mystery readers who like their danger spiked with irreverent wit and quirky characters should look no further.
Christian Science Monitor
This is one of the funniest, yet most complex and contemplative series to appear in ages...the action is steady, the dialogue so good you wouldn't miss the action, and the plot a carefully constructed beauty.
Lansing State Journal
Easily in the running for best-of-the-year honors, a story deftly combining dark suspense with wry humor and pathos.
Montreal Gazette
This is one of those thrillers that you can't put down…thoroughly engaging.
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Coben displays all the right moves -- snappy dialogue, fast pacing, neat plotting -- to make One False Move a winner. Myron's some serious competition for Robert Parker's Spenser.
Florida Sun Sentinel
Coben's energetic approach keeps the suspense high in this twisty tale that continues to surprise as it entertains... Snappy dialogue and Myron's witty one-liners and wry take on life can outshine most standup comics...One False Move scores big. Coben's sharp humor and precise plotting are foul proof.
Library Journal
Series sports agent Myron Bolitar handles everything with panache: his relationships, his clients, and this search for two missing people. When a sports store mogul asks him to "watch over" basketball star Brenda Slaughter, Myron winds up looking for her father, who disappeared a week ago, and her mother, who deserted the family some 20 years earlier. Myron not only discovers mob interest in female basketball but also a connected suspicious death in a high-profile political family. Standard plotting, then, but authentic conversation, colorful characters, and exciting New York and New Jersey surrounds more than compensate. Strongly recommended. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 2/15/98.]
Jeri Wright
It is rare to find a novel that appeals on so many levels. The mystery is complex and Myron is a protagonist who draws me in to the story with both his sense of purpose and his smartass comments....I am proof that you don't have to have a particular interest in sports to appreciate these books. This was a very satisfying read; one of the best mystery novels I've read in a long, long time.
The Mystery Reader.com
Kirkus Reviews
Fast-talking sports agent Myron Bolitar won't win any awards for baseball (since his Little League brushback) or basketball (thanks to his bum knee), but his paperback detective work has already won him an Anthony, a Shamus, and an Edgar. His hardcover debut dangles an appealing potential client in front of him—Brenda Slaughter, basketball star of the New York Dolphins—but there's a catch: Before he can sign her, he has to protect her from the threats she's been getting, and maybe even track down her missing parents (Dad's been gone a week, Mom 20 years). What could anybody have against Brenda—unless it's the mobsters who want to press her into defecting to a rival women's league, or the wealthy and well-connected Arthur Bradford, the gubernatorial candidate determined to keep the truth about his wife's ancient suicide under wraps, or all the New Jersey cops who are either on Bradford's payroll or would like to be? Undaunted, Myron and his Spenser-inspired entourage—his bisexual assistant Esperanza Diaz, his financial-planning associate Windsor Horne Lockwood III (who, despite his blond complexion, probably shaves in front of a photo of Spenser's buddy Hawk), and his ex-wrestler temp Big Cyndi, who doesn't like to be called just Cyndi—take on every soul in New Jersey with a gun, a bank account, and a bad attitude, and uncover a satisfyingly complex tangle of skullduggery. Could Myron, who pushes his wisecracking charm hard, be any more tough and adorable? It'll be a pleasure waiting for the next installment to find out.
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780440246091
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 8/25/2009
  • Series: Myron Bolitar Series , #5
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 352
  • Sales rank: 94,950
  • Product dimensions: 4.18 (w) x 7.60 (h) x 0.97 (d)

Meet the Author

Harlan Coben
Harlan Coben is the winner of the Edgar, Shamus, and Anthony awards. His critically acclaimed novels have been published in thirty-three languages around the world and have been number one bestsellers in more than half a dozen countries. In addition to the Myron Bolitar series (Deal Breaker, Drop Shot, Fade Away, Back Spin, One False Move, The Final Detail, Darkest Fear, and the upcoming Promise Me), he is also the author of Tell No One, Gone for Good, No Second Chance, Just One Look, and The Innocent.

Biography

Harlan Coben may be the only mystery writer to have inspired the dubious endorsement, "Raymond Chandler meets Bridget Jones" (as the Chicago Tribune wrote about Darkest Fear). But it's not hard to see what the critic means: Coben knows how to create a good chase, but he is also adept at generating laughs along the way. His books often start with a few pieces of bad news and end with the closet door flung open to reveal a few skeletons.

Debuting in 1995, the series that cemented Coben's reputation revolves around Myron Bolitar, a wisecracking sports agent who always finds himself getting into trouble, via his clients or his own past. What's endearing about these books is Coben's willingness to have fun as he spins a story. He might poke fun the yuppie wardrobe of Bolitar's partner, Win, or his gal Friday (and sometime female wrestler), Big Cyndi's, tendency to wear "more makeup than the cast of Cats." There's a slight boys' club air to the series, but it's more frat house than locker room -- or more appropriately, rec room, since Bolitar finds himself still living at his parents' in his early 30s.

Sports-averse readers should not avoid the Bolitar books; in the end, sports play only a peripheral role in the story, which is primarily about the mystery. Given this, it's not surprising that Coben has called William Goldman's Marathon Man one of his favorite thrillers and has cited Philip Roth and Alfred Hitchcock as influences.

And yes, there's certainly life beyond Bolitar! Coben has crafted a number of superb stand-alone thrillers filled with tortuous twists and turns and peopled with characters you can't help but root for. In a 2001 interview, the author stated, "I love a book that sneaks up behind you at the end and slaps you in the back of the head." Ultimately, that describes everything in Harlan Coben's oeuvre.

Good To Know

Coben has four children with wife Anne, his sweetheart since age 20.

Coben advises aspiring writers thusly: "Write. Don't take classes. Don't join workshops. Don't listen to me," he told the Charlotte Austin Review. "Just write. Oh, and cut. Cut a lot. You're probably not editing yourself enough. Then rewrite. Then rewrite again. Repeat. Like with shampooing."

Coben says his mother was his best literary inspiration in an interview with the Page One literary newsletter. "We'd go to the old Barnes & Noble in Manhattan (back then, if you can believe this, I think there was only one) and spend the entire day. We didn't have much money back then and we almost never bought toys -- but we were always allowed to get whatever books we wanted."

In our interview, Coben shared more fun facts:

"I once worked as a tour guide in the Costa del Sol of Spain."

"I pretty much only wear Lilly Pulitzer ties because my best friend owns the company."

Read More Show Less
    1. Hometown:
      Ridgewood, New Jersey
    1. Date of Birth:
      January 4, 1962
    2. Place of Birth:
      Newark, New Jersey
    1. Education:
      B.A. in political science, Amherst College, 1984
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

An hour before his world exploded like a ripe tomato under a stiletto heel, Myron bit into a fresh pastry that tasted suspiciously like a urinal cake.

"Well?" Mom prompted.

Myron battled his throat, won a costly victory, swallowed. "Not bad."

Mom shook her head, disappointed.

"What?"

"I'm a lawyer," Mom said. "You'd think I'd have raised a better liar."

"You did the best you could," Myron said.

She shrugged and waved a hand at the, uh, pastry. "It's my first time baking, bubbe. It's okay to tell me the truth."

"It's like biting into a urinal cake," Myron said.

"A what?"

"In men's public bathrooms. In the urinals. They put them there for the smell or something."

"And you eat them?"

"No--"

"Is that why your father takes so long in there? He's having a little Tastykake? And here I thought his prostate was acting up."

"I'm joking, Mom."

She smiled through blue eyes tinged with a red that Visine could never hope to get out, the red you can only get through slow, steady tears. Normally Mom was heavily into histrionics. Slow, steady tears were not her style. "So am I, Mr. Smarty Pants. You think you're the only one in this family with a sense of humor?"

Myron said nothing. He looked down at the, uh, pastry, fearing or perhaps hoping it might crawl away. In the thirty-plus years his mother had lived in this house, she had never baked -- not from a recipe, not from scratch, not even from one of those Pillsbury morning croissant thingies that came in small mailing tubes. She could barely boil water without strict instructions and pretty much never cooked, though she could whip up a mean Celeste frozen pizza in the microwave, her agile fingers dancing across the numerical keypad in the vein of Nureyev at Lincoln Center. No, in the Bolitar household, the kitchen was more a gathering place -- a Family Room Lite, if you will -- than anything related to even the basest of the culinary arts. The round table held magazines and catalogs and congealing white boxes of Chinese takeout. The stovetop saw less action than a Merchant-Ivory production. The oven was a prop, strictly for show, like a politician's Bible.

Something was definitely amiss.

They were sitting in the living room with the dated pseudo-leather white modular couch and aqua-tinged rug whose shagginess reminded Myron of a toilet-seat cover. Grown-up Greg Brady. Myron kept stealing glances out the picture window at the For Sale sign in the front yard as though it were a spaceship that had just landed and something sinister was about to step out.

"Where's Dad?"

Mom gave a weary wave toward the door. "He's in the basement."

"In my room?"

"Your old room, yes. You moved out, remember?"

He did -- at the tender age of thirty-four no less. Childcare experts would salivate and tsk-tsk over that one -- the prodigal son choosing to remain in his split-level cocoon long after the deemed appropriate deadline for the butterfly to break free. But Myron might argue the opposite. He might bring up the fact that for generations and in most cultures, offspring lived in the familial home until a ripe old age, that adopting such a philosophy could indeed be a societal boom, helping people stay rooted to something tangible in this era of the disintegrating nuclear family. Or, if that rationale didn't float your boat, Myron could try another. He had a million.

But the truth of the matter was far simpler: He liked hanging out in the burbs with Mom and Dad -- even if confessing such a sentiment was about as hip as an Air Supply eight track.

"So what's going on?" he asked.

"Your father doesn't know you're here yet," she said. "He thinks you're not coming for another hour."

Myron nodded, puzzled. "What's he doing in the basement?"

"He bought a computer. Your father plays with it down there."

"Dad?"

"My point exactly. The man can't change a lightbulb without a manual -- all of a sudden he's Bill Gates. Always on the nest."

"The Net," Myron corrected.

"The what?"

"It's called the Net, Mom."

"I thought it was nest. The bird's nest or something."

"No, it's Net."

"Are you sure? I know there's a bird in there somewhere."

"The Web maybe," Myron tried. "Like with a spider."

She snapped her fingers. "That's it. Anyway your father is on there all the time, weaving the Web or whatever. He chats with people, Myron. That's what he tells me. He chats with complete strangers. Like he used to do with the CB radio, remember?"

Myron remembered. Circa 1976. Jewish Dads in the suburbs checking for "smokeys" on the way to the delicatessen. Mighty convoy of Cadillac Sevilles. Ten-four, good buddy.

"And that's not all," she went on. "He's typing his memoirs. A man who can't scribble down a grocery list without consulting Strunk and White suddenly thinks he's an ex-president."

They were selling the house. Myron still could not believe it. His eyes wandered about the overly familiar surroundings, his gaze getting snagged on the photographs running up the stairwell. He saw his family mature via fashion -- the skirts and sideburns lengthening and shortening, the quasi-hippie fringes and suede and tie-dyes, the leisure suits and bell-bottoms, the frilly tuxedos that would be too tacky for a Vegas casino -- the years flying by frame by frame like one of those depressing life insurance commercials. He spotted the poses from his basketball days -- a sixth-grade suburban-league foul shot, an eighth-grade drive to the hoop, a high school slam dunk -- the row ending with Sports Illustrated cover shots, two from his days at Duke and one with his leg in a cast and a large-fonted IS HE FINISHED? emblazoned across his knee-cast image (the answer in the mind's eye being an equally large-fonted YES!).

"So what's wrong?" he asked.

"I didn't say anything was wrong."

Myron shook his head, disappointed. "And you a lawyer."

"Setting a bad example?"

"It's no wonder I never ran for higher office."

She folded her hands on her lap. "We need to chat."

Myron didn't like the tone.

"But not here," she added. "Let's take a walk around the block."

Myron nodded and they rose. Before they reached the door, his cell phone rang. Myron snatched it up with a speed that would have made Wyatt Earp step back. He put the phone to his ear and cleared his throat.

"MB SportsReps," he said, silky-smooth, professional-like. "This is Myron Bolitar speaking."

"Nice phone voice," Esperanza said. "You sound like Billy Dee ordering two Colt 45s."

Esperanza Diaz was his longtime assistant and now sports-agent partner at MB SportsReps (M for Myron, the B for Bolitar -- for those keeping score).

"I was hoping you were Lamar," he said.

"He hasn't called yet?"

"Nope."

He could almost see Esperanza frown. "We're in deep doo-doo here," she said.

"We're not in deep doo-doo. We're just sucking a little wind, that's all."

"Sucking a little wind," Esperanza repeated. "Like Pavarotti running the Boston Marathon."

"Good one," Myron said.

"Thanks."

Lamar Richardson was a power-hitting Golden Glove shortstop who'd just become a free agent -- "free agent" being a phrase agents whisper in the same way a mufti might whisper "Praise Allah." Lamar was shopping for new representation and had whittled his final list down to three agencies: two supersized conglomerates with enough office space to house a Price Club and the aforementioned pimple-on-the-buttocks but oh-so-personal MB SportsReps. Go, pimple-butt!

Myron watched his mother standing by the door. He switched ears and said, "Anything else?"

"You'll never guess who called," Esperanza said.

"Elle and Claudia demanding another menage a trois?"

"Oooo, close."

She would never just tell him. With his friends, everything was a TV game show. "How about a hint?" he said.

"One of your ex-lovers."

He felt a jolt. "Jessica."

Esperanza made a buzzing noise. "Sorry, wrong bitch."

Myron was puzzled. He'd only had two long-term relationships in his life: Jessica on and off for the past thirteen years (now very off). And before that, well, you'd have to go back to...

"Emily Downing?"

Esperanza made a ding-ding noise.

A sudden image pierced his heart like a straight-blade. He saw Emily sitting on that threadbare couch in the frat basement, smiling that smile at him, her legs bent and tucked under her, wearing his high school varsity jacket that was several sizes too big, her gesturing hands slipping down and disappearing into the sleeves.

His mouth went dry. "What did she want?"

"Don't know. But she said that she simply had to talk to you. She's very breathy, you know. Like everything she says is a double entendre."

With Emily, everything was.

"She good in the sack?" Esperanza asked.

Being an overly attractive bisexual, Esperanza viewed everyone as a potential sex partner. Myron wondered what that must be like, to have and thus weigh so many options, and then he decided to leave that road untraveled. Wise man.

"What did Emily say exactly?" Myron said.

"Nothing specific. She just spewed out a colorful assortment of breathy teasers: urgent, life-and-death, grave matters, etceteras, etceteras."

"I don't want to talk to her."

"I didn't think so. If she calls back, you want me to give her the runaround?"

"Please."

"Mas tarde then."

He hung up as a second image whacked him like a surprise wave at the beach. Senior year at Duke. Emily so composed as she dumped the varsity jacket onto his bed and walked out. Not long after that, she married the man who'd ruin Myron's life.

Deep breaths, he told himself. In and out. That's it.

"Everything okay?" Mom asked.

"Fine."

Mom shook her head again, disappointed.

"I'm not lying," he said.

"Fine, right, sure, you always breathe like an obscene phone call. Listen, if you don't want to tell your mother--"

"I don't want to tell my mother."

"Who raised you and..."

Myron tuned her out, as was his custom. She was digressing again, taking on a past life or something. It was something she did a lot. One minute she was thoroughly modern, an early feminist who marched alongside Gloria Steinem and became proof that -- to quote her old T-shirt -- A Woman's Place Is in the House ... and Senate. But at the sight of her son, her progressive attire slid to the floor and revealed the babushka-clad yenta beneath the burned bra. It made for an interesting childhood.

They headed out the front door. Myron kept his eyes on the For Sale sign as though it might suddenly brandish a gun. His mind flashed onto something he had never actually seen -- the sunny day when Mom and Dad had arrived here for the first time, hand in hand, Mom's belly swelling with child, both of them scared and exhilarated realizing that this cookie-cut three-bedroom split-level would be their life vessel, their SS American Dream. Now, like it or not, that journey was coming to an end. Forget that "close one door, open another" crap. That For Sale sign marked the end -- the end of youth, of middle age, of a family, the universe of two people who'd started here and fought here and raised kids here and worked and carpooled and lived their lives here.

They walked up the street. Leaves were piled along the curb, the surest sign of suburban autumn, while leaf blowers shattered the still air like helicopters over Saigon. Myron took the inside track so his path would skim the piles' edges. The dead leaves crackled under his sneakers and he liked that. He wasn't sure why.

"Your father spoke to you," Mom said, half-question. "About what happened to him."

Myron felt his stomach tense up. He veered deeper into the leaves, lifting his legs high and crunching louder. "Yes."

"What did he say exactly?" Mom asked.

"That he'd had chest pains while I was in the Caribbean."

The Kaufman house had always been yellow, but the new family had painted it white. It looked wrong with the new color, out of place. Some homes had gone the aluminum-siding route, while others had built on additions, bumping out the kitchens and master bedrooms. The young family who'd moved into the Miller home had gotten rid of the Millers' trademark overflowing flower boxes. The new owners of the Davis place had ripped out those wonderful shrubs Bob Davis had worked on every weekend. It all reminded Myron of an invading army ripping down the flags of the conquered.

"He didn't want to tell you," Mom said. "You know your father. He still feels he has to protect you."

Myron nodded, stayed in the leaves.

Then she said, "It was more than chest pains."

Myron stopped.

"It was a full-blown coronary," she went on, not meeting his eyes. "He was in intensive care for three days." She started blinking. "The artery was almost entirely blocked."

Myron felt his throat close.

"It's changed him. I know how much you love him, but you have to accept that."

"Accept what?"

Her voice was gentle and firm. "That your father is getting older. That I'm getting older."

He thought about it. "I'm trying," he said.

"But?"

"But I see that For Sale sign--"

"Wood and bricks and nails, Myron."

"What?"

She waded through the leaves and took hold of his elbow. "Listen to me. You mope around here like we're sitting shiva, but that house is not your childhood. It isn't a part of your family. It doesn't breathe or think or care. It's just wood and bricks and nails."

"You've lived there for almost thirty-five years."

"So?"

He turned away, kept walking.

"Your father wants to be honest with you," she said, "but you're not making it any easier."

"Why? What did I do?"

She shook her head, looked up into the sky as though willing divine inspiration, continued walking. Myron stayed by her side. She snaked her arm under his elbow and leaned against him.

"You were always a terrific athlete," she said. "Not like your father. Truth be told, your father was a spaz."

"I know this," Myron said.

"Right. You know this because your father never pretended to be something he wasn't. He let you see him as human -- vulnerable even. And it had a strange effect on you. You worshipped him all the more. You turned him into something almost mythical."

Myron thought about it, didn't argue. He shrugged and said, "I love him."

"I know, sweetheart. But he's just a man. A good man. But now he's getting old and he's scared. Your father always wanted you to see him as human. But he doesn't want you to see him scared."

Myron kept his head down. There are certain things you cannot picture your parents doing -- having sex being the classic example. Most people cannot -- probably should not even try to -- picture their parents in flagrante delicto. But right now Myron was trying to conjure up another taboo image, one of his father sitting alone in the dark, hand on his chest, scared, and the sight, while achievable, was aching, unbearable. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. "So what should I do?"

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 98 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(51)

4 Star

(25)

3 Star

(12)

2 Star

(5)

1 Star

(5)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 98 Customer Reviews
  • Posted March 13, 2010

    I Also Recommend:

    One of Coben's better Myron Bolitar books

    I'm not a big fan of Coben's Myron Bolitar books, but I do usually enjoy his books. That said, this was one of his best Bolitar ones. I finished the book in 6 days, which is pretty fast for me. So, it was one of his hard to put down books - although I was recovering from a virus at the time and had more time to read. Personally, I thought Coben's best books were Gone for Good and Tell No One.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted June 19, 2012

    Great Book....Harlan and Myron are amazing!

    Great Book.....I just love Harlan Coben! Can't wait to read the next one in the series.....Myron Bolitar and Win his friend are a pair and I enjoy the humor interjected into each book.....plus the fact that I not only live in NJ where the books are set but I lived in Livingston where Harlan and Myron are from.....makes it so much more interesting when you know where they are.

    Enjoy it!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted October 20, 2011

    Definitely check it out

    I love all Coben's book, and this was no exception. Great read!! Gotta love Myron and Win.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted July 20, 2011

    Nerdyprincess

    I absolutely love the bolitar series..... i love the twists and surprises and cant wait to get the sixth book :)

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted August 2, 2013

    Another great one from Harlan Coben

    I love the Myron Bolitar series. Harlan Coben delivers once again with One False Move. I highly recommend this book! What a great read!

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

    Posted July 23, 2013

    Gj b

    Yivgjggjvm .ioutqughyutubn ygj iivmb,b,gjgtu y

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted June 7, 2013

    Best of the Bolitar series to date!

    So far, book #5 has been my favorite Myron book. The twists and turns left me unable to put the book down.

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

    Posted March 12, 2013

    Male

    The male how die

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted December 27, 2012

    Loveheart

    Hello? Anyone here

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted December 28, 2012

    To marc

    Hi

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted December 21, 2012

    To Jade

    Post your number if your hot and il text you

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted December 23, 2012

    Rose

    Toroa that was before i meet you my love

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted July 30, 2012

    there seems to be a mistake i was unsuccessful in purchasing this book

    there seems to be a mistake i was unsuccessful in purchasing this book.
    you have prevented me from purchasing any books outside the US

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted June 19, 2012

    always good

    This 5th in the Bolitar series was no exception to the rule. I love these books for a change of pace in my reading . They are similiar to comfort food....familiar, pleasing and enjoyable every time.
    I read one about every 3 months and have enjoyed each one. There is always a good plot with twists and interesting characters that make me look forward to reading each evening .

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

    Posted December 13, 2011

    Win is awesome

    I love the Bolitar series, and Win is probably one of my favorite characters of all time.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted July 26, 2011

    Great Bolitar Book

    This is my favorite Bolitar book so far! It leaves you wanting to find out what comes Myrons way next! Love It!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted November 27, 2010

    Good book, plenty of plot twists to keep you wanting to read more

    Love Harlan Coben! Looking forward to my next read by him!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted May 11, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    Great read!

    This if the first Myron Bolitar book that I read and it pulled me in instantly! Since then I've read a 9 of Harlan Coben's books, he remains one of my favorite authors. This book is exciting and will have you hooked page after page!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted August 22, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Myron and Win at it again

    Great read. Just what you want from a Harlan Coben Myron Bolitar book. Fun, excitement, and a few twists. As usual Win adds that extra something to the book. Enjoy.

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

    Posted February 9, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 98 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)