To the Nines: Stephanie Plum Novels by Janet Evanovich

Take a trip down the Jersey Turnpike to the irresistible world of Stephanie Plum-where America's favorite bounty hunter gets into more trouble than ever. This time, Stephanie, Lula, and Grandma have a Vegas-sized problem on their hands. The pursuit of a skip brings Stephanie to Las Vegas, and three mob guys want to make sure it's a one-way ticket. Once there, Stephanie meets up with Sally Sweet as well as a whole cast of characters who could only exist in a place like Vegas. With Joe Morelli making a surprise visit and Ranger doing his own kind of surveillance, Stephanie's nights have never been hotter. This ninth Stephanie Plum novel is Janet Evanovich's wildest, wackiest, and most suspenseful yet. Editorial Reviews From Publishers Weekly My same is Stephanie Plum and I was born and raised in the Chambersburg section of Trenton, where the top male activities are scarfing pastries and pork rinds and growing ass hair. Within pages of this elegant introduction to the latest installment in Evanovich's bestselling numbered series, the less-than-stellar bounty hunter Stephanie Plum has managed to haul in a fat, naked and, yes, furry skip who has greased himself up with Vaseline to literally give her the slip. In the midst of taking him to the police station, however, Plum drops everything to help her beloved Grandma Mazur, who calls to say that Stephanie's mom locked herself in the bathroom to escape the craziness of the Plum family. Finally, Plum checks in at the office, where her employer and cousin, the bailbondsman Vinnie, assigns her back-up duty on the thorny case of a missing Indian man, Samuel Singh. Vinnie previously wrote a bond ensuring that Singh would leave the country when his visa expired, so the latter's disappearance drives Vinnie to call in the devastatingly attractive Ranger, his star enforcer, and assign Stephanie to help him. As fans know, the mysterious Ranger has long competed with the equally sexy Morelli to be the object of Plum's desire, so his presence-just as Plum has temporarily moved in with Morelli-keeps the sexual tension high. An awkward plot that takes Plum to Vegas is the weakest course in this meal. Yet Evanovich's many fans will be more than happy with their latest serving of Stephanie Plum-that cute, bumbling, irresistibly average Jersey girl-who just happens to have more laughs, more sizzling sexual tension, and more nonstop, zany adventure than anybody else around. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. From Booklist *Starred Review* Stephanie Plum is a Jersey Girl, a bounty hunter, and a resident of a part of Trenton where you can still go to Mom's for dinner and your cop boyfriend Morelli's grandmother has visions that include you in a coffin. Stephanie is on the trail of an Indian contract worker named Singh who disappeared when his visa was up. When she interviews a McDonald's employee who knew him, he's shot as she stands there. Then rose-and-carnation bouquets with very sinister notes start appearing in Stephanie's apartment and in her e-mail, and a few more bodies turn up with bullet holes. Meanwhile, Stephanie's sister, Valerie, is about to give birth; her sidekick, Lula, goes on the loudest diet ever written; and a trip to Vegas--yes, it's business--involves both Elvis and Tom Jones impersonators. Evanovich, and Stephanie, are at the top of their form here: laugh-out loud moments jostle with sticky, visceral terror; Stephanie's mentor, Ranger, and Morelli don't so much vie for her favors as bestow them in turn. Ever smarter, funnier, sexier, scarier. GraceAnne DeCandido Copyright American Library Association. All rights reserved About the Author Bestselling author Janet Evanovich is the recipient of the Crime Writers Association's John Creasy Memorial, Last Laugh, and Silver Dagger awards, as well as the Left Coast Crime's Lefty award, and is the two-time recipient of the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association's Dilys award. She lives in New Hampshire, where she is at work on her next Stephanie Plum adventure.Box 5487, Hanover, NH 03755. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. CHAPTER 1, PART 1 My name is Stephanie Plum and I was born and raised in the Chambersburg section of Trenton where men pretty much only drop their drawers in private. Thank God for small favors because the top activities for men in the Burg are scarfing pastries and pork rinds and growing ass hair. The pastry and pork rind scarfing I've seen first hand. The ass hair growing is for the most part rumor. The first butt I saw up close and personal belonged to Joe Morelli. Morelli put an end to my virgin status and showed me an ass that was masculine perfection ...smooth and muscular and blemish free. Back then Morelli thought a long term commitment was twenty minutes. I was one of thousands who got to admire Morelli's bare ass as he pulled his pants up and headed for the door. Morelli's been in and out of my life since then. He's currently in and he's improved with age, butt included. So the sight of a naked ass isn't exactly new to me, but the one I was presently watching took the cake. Punky Balog had an ass like Winnie the Pooh ...big and fat and furry. Sad to say, that was where the similarity ended because, unlike Pooh bear, there was nothing endearing or cuddly about Punky Balog. I knew about Punky's ass because I was in my new sunshine yellow Ford Escape, sitting across from Punky's dilapidated row house, and Punky had his huge Pooh butt plastered against his second story window. My sometimes partner, Lula, was riding shotgun for me and Lula and I were staring up at the butt in open mouthed horror. Punky slid his butt side to side on the pane and Lula and I gave a collective, upper lip curled back eeyeuuw! Think he knows we're out here, Lula said. Think maybe he's trying to tell us something. Lula and I work for my bail bonds agent cousin, Vincent Plum. Vinnie's office is on Hamilton Avenue, his front window looking into the Burg. He's not the world's best bonds agent. And he's not the worst. Truth is, he'd probably be a better bondsman if he wasn't saddled with Lula and me. I do fugitive apprehension for Vinnie and I have a lot more luck than skill. Lula mostly does filing. Lula hasn't got luck or skill. The thing Lula has going for her is the ability to tolerate Vinnie. Lula's a plus size black woman in a size seven white world and Lula's had a lot of practice at pulling attitude. Punky turned and gave us a wave with his Johnson. That's just so sad, Lula said. What do men think of? If you had a lumpy little wanger like that would you go waving it in public? Punky was dancing now, jumping around, wanger flopping, doodles bouncing. Holy crap, Lula said. He's gonna rupture something. It's gotta be uncomfortable. I'm glad we forgot the binoculars. I wouldn't want to see this up close. I didn't even want to see it from a distance. When I was a 'ho I used to keep myself from getting grossed out by pretending men's privates were Muppets, Lula said. This guy looks like an anteater Muppet. See the little tuft of hair on the anteater head and then there's the thing the anteater snuffs up ants with... Except ol' Punky here's gotta get real close to the ants on account of his snuffer isn't real big. Punky's got a pinky. Lula was a 'ho in a previous life. One night while plying her trade she had a near death experience and decided to change everything but her wardrobe. Not even a near death experience could get Lula out of spandex. She was currently wearing a skin tight hot pink mini-skirt and a tiger print top that made her boobs look like big round over-inflated balloons. It was early June and mid-morning and the Jersey air wasn't cooking yet, so Lula had a yellow angora sweater over the tiger top. Hold on, Lula said. I think his snuffer is growing. This produced another eeyeuuw from us. Maybe I should shoot him, Lula said. No shooting! I felt the need to discourage Lula from hauling out her Glock, but truth was, it seemed like it'd be a public service to take a potshot at Punky. How bad do we want this guy? Lula asked. If I don't bring him in, I don't get paid. If I don't get paid, I don't have rent money. If I don't have rent money, I get kicked out of my apartment and have to move in with my parents. So we want him real bad. Real bad. And he's wanted for what? Grand theft auto. At least it's not armed robbery. I'm gonna be hoping the only weapon he's got, he's holding in his hand right now ...on account of this don't look like much of a threat to me. I guess we should go do it. I'm ready to rock and roll, Lula said. I'm ready to kick some Punky butt. I'm ready to do the job. I turned the key in the ignition. I'm going to drop you at the corner so you can cut through the back and take the back door. Make sure you have your walkie talkie on so I can let you know when I'm coming in. Roger, that. And no shooting, no breaking doors down, no Dirty Harry imitations. You can count on me. Three minutes later, Lula reported she was in place. I parked the Escape two houses down, walked to Punky's front door and rang the bell. No one responded so I rang a second time. I gave the door a solid rap with my fist and shouted bond enforcement. Open the door. I heard shouting carrying over from the back yard, a door crashing open and slamming shut and then more muffled shouting. I called Lula on the talkie but got no response. A moment later the front door opened to the house next to me and Lula stomped out. Hey, so excuse me, she yelled at the woman behind her. So I got the wrong door. It could happen, you know. We're under a lot of pressure when we're making these dangerous apprehensions. Copyright 2003 by Evanovich, Inc.