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Bounty hunter Stephanie Plum's got a lot on her mind. How does cigarette smuggler Eddie DeChooch, a fugitive so geriatric that even the hot-to-trot Grandma Mazur won't go out with him a third time, keep giving her the slip? How did a woman who died of a heart attack end up in DeChooch's garden shed with five bullet holes in her chest? Who stole a rump roast from Dougie and Mooner, the two lovable potheads who have decided to be crime fighters in Spandex bodysuits? Can Stephanie's perfect sister Valerie make it as a lesbian single mother without driving her family crazy? And--oh yeah--what should Stephanie do about that damn wedding dress on hold at Tina's Bridal Shoppe, waiting for her to decide whether vice cop Joe Morelli's really the one for her? I did look good in the gown. I looked like Scarlett O' Hara getting ready for a big wedding at Tara. I moved around a little to simulate dancing. "Jump up and down so we can see how it'll look when you do the bunny hop," Grandma said. "It's pretty but I don't want a gown," I said. "I can order one in her size at no obligation," Tina said. "No obligation," Grandma said. "You can't beat that." "As long as there's no obligation," my mother said. I needed chocolate. A lot of chocolate. "Oh gee," I said, "look at the time. I need to go." To complicate matters further, Stephanie's made a reluctant deal with the devil: if she can't bring in DeChooch by herself, her sexy but dangerous cohort Ranger is willing to help--for a price that a girl who's not-exactly-engaged is uncertain whether she should pay. But when Dougie and Mooner disappear, Grandma is kidnapped, and a crazy widow starts taking pot shots, no one who hides her .38 in a cookie jar is going to turn down a little friendly assistance. In Seven Up, Janet Evanovich serves up her usual bubbly fare: a totaled car, raucous viewings at Stiva's Funeral Parlor, buffoonish bad guys, and down-and-dirty mud wrestling, all stirred up with some snappy Jersey repartee and a few tart, new twists that will keep her fans impatient. Heaven can't wait for number eight. --Barrie Trinkle
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