Humor & Satire
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Fortune and Glory: Tantalizing Twenty-Seven (27) (Stephanie Plum)
From "the most popular mystery writer alive" (The New York Times), the twenty-seventh thrilling entry in the #1 New York Times bestselling series isn't just the biggest case of Stephanie Plum's career. It's the adventure of a lifetime.
When Stephanie's beloved Grandma Mazur's new husband died on their wedding night, the only thing he left her was a beat-up old easy chair…and the keys to a life-changing fortune.
But as Stephanie and Grandma Mazur search for Jimmy Rosolli's treasure, they discover that they're not the only ones on the hunt. Two dangerous enemies from the past stand in their way-along with a new adversary who's even more formidable: Gabriela Rose, a dark-eyed beauty from Little Havana with a taste for designer clothes. She's also a soldier of fortune, a gourmet cook, an expert in firearms and mixed martial arts-and someone who's about to give Stephanie a real run for her money.
Stephanie may be in over her head, but she's got two things that Gabriela doesn't: an unbreakable bond with her family and a stubborn streak that will never let her quit.
She'll need both to survive because this search for "fortune and glory" will turn into a desperate race against time with more on the line than ever before. Because even as she searches for the treasure and fights to protect her Grandma Mazur, her own deepest feelings will be tested-as Stephanie could finally be forced to choose between Joe Morelli and Ranger.
When Stephanie's beloved Grandma Mazur's new husband died on their wedding night, the only thing he left her was a beat-up old easy chair…and the keys to a life-changing fortune.
But as Stephanie and Grandma Mazur search for Jimmy Rosolli's treasure, they discover that they're not the only ones on the hunt. Two dangerous enemies from the past stand in their way-along with a new adversary who's even more formidable: Gabriela Rose, a dark-eyed beauty from Little Havana with a taste for designer clothes. She's also a soldier of fortune, a gourmet cook, an expert in firearms and mixed martial arts-and someone who's about to give Stephanie a real run for her money.
Stephanie may be in over her head, but she's got two things that Gabriela doesn't: an unbreakable bond with her family and a stubborn streak that will never let her quit.
She'll need both to survive because this search for "fortune and glory" will turn into a desperate race against time with more on the line than ever before. Because even as she searches for the treasure and fights to protect her Grandma Mazur, her own deepest feelings will be tested-as Stephanie could finally be forced to choose between Joe Morelli and Ranger.
Readers Top Reviews
PATRICIAMRS ANGELA W
I haven’t read a Stephanie Plum book for a long while. So it was interesting to see how the author had developed the character. She hadn’t. I think I could have written the book myself as I seemed to be able to know what happened next. I am not really enjoying this book which is a shame as I did love these books for a long time when they were first written. However they appear to have become formulaic. There is only so many times you can read about this character, her disasters and her sex life and her friend and grandmother.
Kim greeleyRecca Sco
While I enjoy the characters that are introduced, the plots are getting thin, and the Ranger-Morelli , who gets the girl, is the same in every book. It really needs to end and the only way to do that is have Ranger get the girl so that the series can continue with some spice. There are more ways to go with the series at that point. The way it is now, well let’s just say- you are left flat at the end.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter One CHAPTER ONE
My name is Stephanie Plum and I'm a fugitive apprehension agent in Trenton, New Jersey. I'm not especially brave, so you would think I'd pretty much stay out of trouble. Unfortunately, I occasionally ignore the obvious signs of danger and stumble into something ugly with the potential for disaster. This was one of those times. I was in a tunnel under a strip club, and I was with my coworker, Lula.
"This is a bad idea," Lula said to me. "My nipples are all shrunk up and trying to hide inside my body. It's like what men's gonads do when someone comes at them with a butcher knife. Those suckers abandon ship and there's nothing left but an empty nut sack. Not that I know firsthand. I'm just sayin' what I hear."
Aside from being a bounty hunter, I think I'm pretty normal. I have shoulder-length curly brown hair that's usually pulled back into a ponytail, blue eyes from my mother's Hungarian ancestors, and a bunch of rude hand gestures from my father's Italian side of the family. My nipples aren't as smart or nearly as big as Lula's. They were currently snug inside my sports bra, going along for the ride, and not paying attention to much of anything.
"Not only that, but I think my hair's standing on end," Lula said. "Look at it. Is it standing on end? It feels like it. My scalp is all tingly. That's a for-sure sign that something horrible is going to happen to us."
Lula's hair is always a surprise. Some days it's lavender. Some days it's braided. Some days it isn't even Lula's real hair. Today it was a massive puffball of chemically induced black ringlets shot through with hot pink highlights and sprinkled with glittery tiny pink stars. It was awesome. The rest of Lula is equally awesome, as her bounty runneth over in booty and boob and everything else. Today she was packed into a yellow spandex mini bandage dress that was sized for a much, much smaller woman. I was in my usual uniform of sneakers, jeans, and girly T-shirt.
Lula and I were playing hooky from bounty huntering to track down Lou Salgusta, a mob guy who specializes in information extraction and revenge by barbecuing various body parts of his victims. He's one of six hit men who, years ago, bought a strip club called the Mole Hole. It's located in downtown Trenton, and it's famous for its cheap drinks, outstanding burgers, and mob-occupied back room. It was common knowledge that the six club owners each had a personal La-Z-Boy recliner in the back room, and the possession of one of those recliners was as good as, if not better than, being made.
Recently, Salgusta and one of his La-Z-Boy pals, Charlie Shine, decided my grandmother had the key to a treasure. They kidnapped Grandma and me, and while we endured some terrifying moments, we were able to escape with minimum damage. Problem is, Shine and Salgusta still want the key to the treasure, and we saw them murder a man in cold blood while we were captive. So, there's incentive for Salgusta and Shine to capture us again, persuade Grandma to give them the key, and then kill us.
"I know it's a righteous undertaking to protect your granny," Lula said, "but we aren't exactly that Die Hard guy."
"John McClane?"
"No, Bruce Willis. I'm guessing you don't even have a gun. I'm guessing your gun is home in your brown bear cookie jar."
She was right about the gun, and she was right about us not being Bruce Willis. Unfortunately, I can't let any of that stop me, because I love my grandma, and I will do whatever it takes to protect her. And as I see it, the only way to protect her is to track down Salgusta and Shine and get them behind bars.
Twenty minutes ago, I got a call from my mom, who'd gotten a call from Margie Wisneski, who'd gotten a call from her alcoholic brother that he was having his midmorning pick-me-up at the Mole Hole, and that Lou Salgusta had just walked in and gone straight to the back room.
Lula and I rushed to the scene, but the back room was empty when we arrived. Margie's brother was still at the bar and swore that Salgusta went into the back room and didn't come out.
"There's gotta be a secret way out of that room," Lula said. "That's the way it always is in the gangster movies. You've got to have a way to sneak out when the bulls show up. That's what they used to call the police. I know all about this because I got the classics movie channel on my TV package."
We returned to the back room and looked around. Six La-Z-Boy chairs. A monster safe. A card table with four folding chairs. Big-screen TV...
My name is Stephanie Plum and I'm a fugitive apprehension agent in Trenton, New Jersey. I'm not especially brave, so you would think I'd pretty much stay out of trouble. Unfortunately, I occasionally ignore the obvious signs of danger and stumble into something ugly with the potential for disaster. This was one of those times. I was in a tunnel under a strip club, and I was with my coworker, Lula.
"This is a bad idea," Lula said to me. "My nipples are all shrunk up and trying to hide inside my body. It's like what men's gonads do when someone comes at them with a butcher knife. Those suckers abandon ship and there's nothing left but an empty nut sack. Not that I know firsthand. I'm just sayin' what I hear."
Aside from being a bounty hunter, I think I'm pretty normal. I have shoulder-length curly brown hair that's usually pulled back into a ponytail, blue eyes from my mother's Hungarian ancestors, and a bunch of rude hand gestures from my father's Italian side of the family. My nipples aren't as smart or nearly as big as Lula's. They were currently snug inside my sports bra, going along for the ride, and not paying attention to much of anything.
"Not only that, but I think my hair's standing on end," Lula said. "Look at it. Is it standing on end? It feels like it. My scalp is all tingly. That's a for-sure sign that something horrible is going to happen to us."
Lula's hair is always a surprise. Some days it's lavender. Some days it's braided. Some days it isn't even Lula's real hair. Today it was a massive puffball of chemically induced black ringlets shot through with hot pink highlights and sprinkled with glittery tiny pink stars. It was awesome. The rest of Lula is equally awesome, as her bounty runneth over in booty and boob and everything else. Today she was packed into a yellow spandex mini bandage dress that was sized for a much, much smaller woman. I was in my usual uniform of sneakers, jeans, and girly T-shirt.
Lula and I were playing hooky from bounty huntering to track down Lou Salgusta, a mob guy who specializes in information extraction and revenge by barbecuing various body parts of his victims. He's one of six hit men who, years ago, bought a strip club called the Mole Hole. It's located in downtown Trenton, and it's famous for its cheap drinks, outstanding burgers, and mob-occupied back room. It was common knowledge that the six club owners each had a personal La-Z-Boy recliner in the back room, and the possession of one of those recliners was as good as, if not better than, being made.
Recently, Salgusta and one of his La-Z-Boy pals, Charlie Shine, decided my grandmother had the key to a treasure. They kidnapped Grandma and me, and while we endured some terrifying moments, we were able to escape with minimum damage. Problem is, Shine and Salgusta still want the key to the treasure, and we saw them murder a man in cold blood while we were captive. So, there's incentive for Salgusta and Shine to capture us again, persuade Grandma to give them the key, and then kill us.
"I know it's a righteous undertaking to protect your granny," Lula said, "but we aren't exactly that Die Hard guy."
"John McClane?"
"No, Bruce Willis. I'm guessing you don't even have a gun. I'm guessing your gun is home in your brown bear cookie jar."
She was right about the gun, and she was right about us not being Bruce Willis. Unfortunately, I can't let any of that stop me, because I love my grandma, and I will do whatever it takes to protect her. And as I see it, the only way to protect her is to track down Salgusta and Shine and get them behind bars.
Twenty minutes ago, I got a call from my mom, who'd gotten a call from Margie Wisneski, who'd gotten a call from her alcoholic brother that he was having his midmorning pick-me-up at the Mole Hole, and that Lou Salgusta had just walked in and gone straight to the back room.
Lula and I rushed to the scene, but the back room was empty when we arrived. Margie's brother was still at the bar and swore that Salgusta went into the back room and didn't come out.
"There's gotta be a secret way out of that room," Lula said. "That's the way it always is in the gangster movies. You've got to have a way to sneak out when the bulls show up. That's what they used to call the police. I know all about this because I got the classics movie channel on my TV package."
We returned to the back room and looked around. Six La-Z-Boy chairs. A monster safe. A card table with four folding chairs. Big-screen TV...
