I've had this sitting on my Kindle for NINE YEARS. Oy. The impetus for finally reading it was getting a review copy of the forthcoming installment. Of course, after nine years, there's been quite a few other installments so I'm sure I'll be lost anyway, lol. Sadly, I don't have high hopes now that I've read the first book.
The mystery was decent, nothing fantastic. The characters are over the top and super annoying. Brandy, the "heroine" is immature, irresponsible, shallow, and careless. We hear a teeny tiny, eensy weensy, itty bit about the husband she cheated on, who is now divorcing her, and the 10 year old son she left behind with his father. We hear an ungodly amount about her clothes, her mother and sister's clothes, and her friend's clothes. The brand name dropping excessive, the description of clothing was excessive, and I never want to read another description of a character's clothing. Ever.
The author's voice took me almost halfway through the book to get used to; it's definitely an acquired taste. She uses parentheses like they are going extinct, jumps around and rambles a ton, and there's the excessive emphasis on clothing and fashion.
"In the back of the car, however, hanging from a rod, were some of the clothes I just couldn’t bring myself to sell on eBay: a black Stella McCartney satin bomber jacket with tons of zippers; a black Chanel loose-weaved wool jacket with silver chains and frayed edges; and a black (okay, I’d been trying to hide my weight) Versace low-cut spandex dress (the one Angelina Jolie wore to the Oscars … except a tad bigger)."
"I suppose I should interrupt myself again to explain that my mother has always had a touch of the dramatic. She’d been a tall, slender, beautiful blonde in high school (willowy, they used to call it) who had snagged the lead in every play since kindergarten. Her plans to go to Hollywood had changed when she abruptly married her high school sweetheart (my dad, Jonathan—remember him?) on the eve of his marching off to war."
"I despised these women, each of whom had at one time or another betrayed my sister. The ringleader of the cattiest clique this side of the Mississippi was Robin (wearing the stodgier side of Anne Klein); she once stole Peggy Sue’s fiancé, then threw him over. Lana (looking silly in Lilly Pulitzer—where’s a palm tree when you need one?) had had my sister kicked off the Pom-Pon Squad (at the time called Pom-Pom, before anyone realized it meant “whore” in the Philippines) for being “too fat,” which had sent Peggy Sue on an anorexic cycle. And my “favorite,” Connie (hiding her heft under a voluminous Eileen Fisher dress; it wasn’t working), had once spread a vicious rumor that my sister was pregnant, when Peggy Sue studied in France her freshman year of college."
Those are mild but accurate samples.
Anyway, the book did slowly engage me and I finished it. It was okay, nothing wonderful. I do not have high hopes for the review book on my Kindle. At least I know not to expect much.