From Amazon
Stephanie Plum is so smart, so honest, and so funny that her narrative charm could drive a documentary on termites. But this tough gal from New Jersey, an unemployed discount lingerie buyer, has a much more interesting story to tell: She has to say that her Miata has been repossessed and that she's so poor at the moment that she just drank her last bottle of beer for breakfast. She has to say that her only chance out of her present rut is her repugnant cousin Vinnie and his bail-bond business. She has to say that she blackmailed Vinnie into giving her a bail-bond recovery job worth $10,000 (for a murder suspect), even though she doesn't own a gun and has never apprehended a person in her life. And she has to say that the guy she has to get, Joe Morelli, is the same creep who charmed away her teenage virginity behind the pastry case in the Trenton bakery where she worked after school.
If that hard-luck story doesn't sound compelling enough, Stephanie's several unsuccessful attempts at pulling in Joe make a downright hilarious and suspenseful tale of murder and deceit. Along the way, several more outlandish (but unrelentingly real) characters join the story, including Benito Ramirez, a champion boxer who seems to be following Stephanie Plum wherever she goes.
Janet Evanovich shares an authentic feel for the streets of Trenton in her debut mystery (she developed her talents in a string of romance novels before creating Ms. Plum), and her tough, frank, and funny first-person narrator offers a winning mix of vulgarity and sensitivity. Evanovich is certainly among the best of the new voices to emerge in the mystery field of the 1990s. --Patrick O'Kelley --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Publishers Weekly
First novels this funny and self-assured come along rarely; dialogue this astute and raunchy is equally unusual. The gutsy heroine introduced here is Stephanie Plum of Trenton, N.J., a recently laid-off lingerie buyer who has no job, no car and no furniture. She does have a hamster, a deranged grandmother, two caring parents and several pairs of biking shorts and sports bras. Finding work with her cousin Vinnie, she becomes a bond hunter and scrounges money enough to buy a gun, a Chevy Nova and some Mace. Her first assignment is to locate a cop accused of murder. Joe Morelli grew up in Stephanie's neighborhood. Possessed of legendary charm, he relieved Stephanie of her virginity when she was 16 (she later ran over him with a car). In her search, Stephanie catches her prey, loses him and grills a psychotic prizefighter, the employer of the man Morelli shot. She steals Morelli's car and then installs an alarm so he can't steal it back. Resourceful and tough, Stephanie has less difficulty finding her man than deciding what she wants to do with him once she's got him. While the link between the fighter and the cop isn't clear until too late in the plot, Evanovich's debut is a delightful romp and Stephanie flaunts a rough-edged appeal. Mystery Guild alternate; author tour; film rights optioned to Tri-Star.
Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Library Journal
A wonderful sense of humor, an eye for detail, and a self-deprecating narrative endow Stephanie Plum with the easy-to-swallow believability that accounts for her appeal as heroine. Spontaneity and financial desperation push her into the life of a bounty hunter, a job that pits her inexperience against the charming wiles of her one-time high school seducer, who is now a purported murderer. Maneuvering around the scrappy environs of Trenton, New Jersey, Stephanie runs the gauntlet of recalcitrant criminals and puts up with a match-making Jewish mother to boot. A witty, well-written, and gutsy debut.
Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
Evanovich's debut introduces one of the funniest, most appealing new heroines to stroll down the mean streets in a long while. Stephanie Plum, a New Jersey native, is a laid-off discount lingerie buyer. Desperate for bucks, she decides to pursue a career as an "apprehension agent," tracking down scofflaws for her bail bondsman cousin, Vinnie. Her first mission: to bring in Joe Morelli, a cop accused of murder. Apprehending Joe is worth $10,000--plus it offers sweet revenge for Stephanie, who first encountered Joe when he introduced her to sex behind the eclair case of the Trenton bakery where she worked in high school. But bringing in a fugitive is tougher than Stephanie thought--she's pursued by a psycho nutcase, her best informants are a couple of hookers, her borrowed car is bombed, and she shoots her expensive new handbag instead of blowing away bad guy Jimmy Alpha. Evanovich's writing is as smooth, clever, and laugh-aloud funny as Robert Parker at his best, her plot is ingenious and fresh, her dialogue is breezy, bright, and witty, and gutsy, impulsive Stephanie Plum . . . ooh-la-la! What a woman! Film rights to Tri-Star and Alternate Selection of the Mystery Guild status augur a winner in the making. Emily Melton
From Kirkus Reviews
Back in high school, sexy Joe Morelli relieved Stephanie Plum (among many others) of her virginity; the next time she ran into him, it was with a Buick. Now that she's gone to work as a skiptracer for her scuzzball cousin, a bail bondsman, Stephanie's already counting the $10,000 she'll get for bringing in Trenton, NJ, vice cop Joe Morelli (who survived the Buick encounter), wanted for the murder of an unarmed man. Stephanie, who's new to this kind of work, starts by dropping around Joe's place, and there he is--in the first of half a dozen encounters that always end with her not shooting or cuffing him (though he does get to use her cuffs on her) and not getting that bounty. Joe insists that Ziggy Kulesza, the guy he shot, had first drawn on him and that witnesses will back up his story--naturally, he can't produce Ziggy's gun or those witnesses just yet. In the meantime, Stephanie's crossed swords with Ziggy's employer, testosterone-rich, morals-poor heavyweight champ Benito Ramirez, who's stalking her as she stalks Joe. Stephanie strikes a deal with Joe: She'll dig up the witness who'll exonerate him, then turn him in with his full cooperation and claim the reward. If only she can find the last missing witness before he's beyond subpoena. A smartly paced debut with an irresistible heroine who, despite trouble getting her man, will have readers hooked by page three. Trenton is about to become the comic mystery's most improbable hot spot. (Mystery Guild alternate selection; film rights to Tri-Star) -- Copyright ©1994, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
Review
Nora Roberts bestselling author of Private Scandals Stephanie Plum is destined to join ranks with Kinsey Millhone and Carlotta Carlyle. Janet Evanovich has crafted a heroine for today, tough, vulnerable, resourceful, and impulsive.
Senator William S. Cohen author of Murder in the Senate A fast-paced, gritty mystery....Janet Evanovich is a witty and clever voice in crime fiction.
Joan Hess author of the Claire Malloy and the Maggody series This is one gritty romp, to put it mildly. Stephanie Plum has not only a hilarious family and some very peculiar associates, but also a wicked sense of humor, a healthy libido, and the tenacity to tackle the most appalling thug to swagger down the streets of Trenton.
Judith Greber, a.k.a. Gillian Roberts author of the Amanda Pepper series With Stephanie Plum, New Jersey has struck gold. Janet Evanovich is a formidable writer who can turn even pollution into endearing local color -- and this is an outstanding debut. I can't wait for the sequel.
Marlys Millhiser author of Death of the Office Witch Finally, something fresh and different! Stephanie Plum is an original and One for the Money is a great series debut.
Deborah Crombie author of All Shall Be Well What a great read! I couldn't put it down. It's fast and funny...Stephanie Plum's attitude is as refreshing as a cold wind on a blistering New Jersey day. She's a believably vulnerable heroine who doesn't need to be rescued by a man, even one as sexy as Joe Morelli.
Dean James manager, Murder by the Book, Houston, and coauthor of By a Woman's Hand Evanovich has a smooth, funny style, spacing thrills and laughs for maximum effect. Mark Evanovich and Plum down on your must-read list!
Jerome Doolittle author of Headlock Funny, unsentimental, tough and touching all at once. I hope we see a lot more of Stephanie Plum.
Senator William S. Cohen author of Murder in the Senate A fast-paced, gritty mystery....Janet Evanovich is a witty and clever voice in crime fiction.
Joan Hess author of the Claire Malloy and the Maggody series This is one gritty romp, to put it mildly. Stephanie Plum has not only a hilarious family and some very peculiar associates, but also a wicked sense of humor, a healthy libido, and the tenacity to tackle the most appalling thug to swagger down the streets of Trenton.
Judith Greber, a.k.a. Gillian Roberts author of the Amanda Pepper series With Stephanie Plum, New Jersey has struck gold. Janet Evanovich is a formidable writer who can turn even pollution into endearing local color -- and this is an outstanding debut. I can't wait for the sequel.
Marlys Millhiser author of Death of the Office Witch Finally, something fresh and different! Stephanie Plum is an original and One for the Money is a great series debut.
Deborah Crombie author of All Shall Be Well What a great read! I couldn't put it down. It's fast and funny...Stephanie Plum's attitude is as refreshing as a cold wind on a blistering New Jersey day. She's a believably vulnerable heroine who doesn't need to be rescued by a man, even one as sexy as Joe Morelli.
Dean James manager, Murder by the Book, Houston, and coauthor of By a Woman's Hand Evanovich has a smooth, funny style, spacing thrills and laughs for maximum effect. Mark Evanovich and Plum down on your must-read list!
Jerome Doolittle author of Headlock Funny, unsentimental, tough and touching all at once. I hope we see a lot more of Stephanie Plum.
Book Description
Meet Stephanie Plum, a bounty hunter with attitude. In Stephanie’s opinion, toxic waste, rabid drivers, armed schizophrenics, and August heat, humidity, and hydrocarbons are all part of the great adventure of living in Jersey.
She’s a product of the “burg,” a blue-collar pocket of Trenton where houses are attached and narrow, cars are American, windows are clean, and (God forbid you should be late) dinner is served at six.
Now Stephanie’s all grown up and out on her own, living five miles from Mom and Dad’s, doing her best to sever the world’s longest umbilical cord. Her mother is a meddler, and her grandmother is a few cans short of a case.
One for the Money is now a major motion picture starring Katherine Heigl as Stephanie Plum and Debbie Reynolds as Grandma Mazur.
From one of the most original voices in film and performance art—screenwriter and director Miranda July’s “wry, wistful, vulnerable, tough, and tender” ( Publishers Weekly ) collection.
From the Back Cover
#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
JANET EVANOVICH
ONE FOR THE MONEY
A Stephanie Plum Novel
"Comes roaring in like a blast of very fresh air...Goes down like a tall, cool, drink."
-The Washington Post
READ THE DYNAMITE BLOCKBUSTER THAT STARTED IT ALL!
"Snappily written, fast paced and witty."
-USA Today
ONE FINE MESS
Welcome to Trenton, New Jersey, home to wiseguys, average Joes, and Stephanie Plum, who sports a big attitude and even bigger money problems (since losing her job as a lingerie buyer for a department store). Stephanie needs cash-fast-but times are tough, and soon she's forced to turn to the last resort of the truly desperate: family...
ONE FALSE MOVE
Stephanie lands a gig at her sleazy cousin Vinnie's bail bonding company. She's got no experience. But that doesn't matter. As does the fact that the bail jumper in question is local vice cop Joe Morelli. From the time he first looked up her dress to the time he first got into her pants, to the time Steph hit him with her father's Buick, M-o-r-e-l-l-i has spelled t-r-o-u-b-l-e. And now the hot guy is in hot water-wanted for murder...
ONE FOR THE MONEY
Abject poverty is a great motivator for learning new skills, but being trained in the school of hard knocks by people like psycho prizefighter Benito Ramirez isn't. Still, if Stephanie can nab Morelli in a week, she'll make a cool ten grand. All she has to do is become an expert bounty hunter overnight-and keep herself from getting killed before she gets her man...
"Evanovich is funny and ceaselessy inventive."
-Los Angeles Times Book Review
"Evanovich's writing is smooth, clever and laugh-aloud. Her plot is ingenious and fresh, her dialogue breezy, bright, witty, and gutsy."
-Booklist p0(starred Review)
--This text refers to the
Mass Market Paperback
edition.
JANET EVANOVICH
ONE FOR THE MONEY
A Stephanie Plum Novel
"Comes roaring in like a blast of very fresh air...Goes down like a tall, cool, drink."
-The Washington Post
READ THE DYNAMITE BLOCKBUSTER THAT STARTED IT ALL!
"Snappily written, fast paced and witty."
-USA Today
ONE FINE MESS
Welcome to Trenton, New Jersey, home to wiseguys, average Joes, and Stephanie Plum, who sports a big attitude and even bigger money problems (since losing her job as a lingerie buyer for a department store). Stephanie needs cash-fast-but times are tough, and soon she's forced to turn to the last resort of the truly desperate: family...
ONE FALSE MOVE
Stephanie lands a gig at her sleazy cousin Vinnie's bail bonding company. She's got no experience. But that doesn't matter. As does the fact that the bail jumper in question is local vice cop Joe Morelli. From the time he first looked up her dress to the time he first got into her pants, to the time Steph hit him with her father's Buick, M-o-r-e-l-l-i has spelled t-r-o-u-b-l-e. And now the hot guy is in hot water-wanted for murder...
ONE FOR THE MONEY
Abject poverty is a great motivator for learning new skills, but being trained in the school of hard knocks by people like psycho prizefighter Benito Ramirez isn't. Still, if Stephanie can nab Morelli in a week, she'll make a cool ten grand. All she has to do is become an expert bounty hunter overnight-and keep herself from getting killed before she gets her man...
"Evanovich is funny and ceaselessy inventive."
-Los Angeles Times Book Review
"Evanovich's writing is smooth, clever and laugh-aloud. Her plot is ingenious and fresh, her dialogue breezy, bright, witty, and gutsy."
-Booklist p0(starred Review)
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.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
THERE ARE SOME MEN who enter a woman's life and screw it up forever. Joseph Morelli did this to me -- not forever, but periodically.
Morelli and I were both born and raised in a blue-collar chunk of Trenton called the burg. Houses were attached and narrow. Yards were small. Cars were American. The people were mostly Italian descent, with enough Hungarians and Germans thrown into offset inbreeding. It was a good place to buy calzone or play the numbers. And. if you had to live in Trenton anyway, it was an okay place to raise a family.
When I was a kid I didn't ordinarily play with Joseph Morelli. He lived two blocks over and was two years older. "Stay away from those Morelli boys," my mother had warned me. "They're wild. I hear stories about the things they do to girls when they get them alone."
"What kind of things?" I'd eagerly asked.
"You don't want to know," my mother had answered. "Terrible things. Things that aren't nice."
From that point on, I viewed Joseph Morelli with a combination of terror and prurient curiosity that bordered on awe. Two weeks later, at the age of six, with quaking knees and a squishy stomach, I followed Morelli into his father's garage on the promise of learning a new game.
The Morelli garage hunkered detached and snubbed at the edge of their lot. It was a sorry affair, lit by a single shaft of light filtering through a grime-coated window. Its air was stagnant, smelling of corner must, discarded tires, and jugs of used motor oil. Never destined to house the Morelli cars, the garage served other purposes. Old man Morelli used the garage to take his belt to his sons, his sons used the garage to take their hands to themselves, and Joseph Morelli took me, Stephanie Plum, to the garage to play train.
"What's the name of this game?" I'd asked Joseph Morelli.
"Choo-choo," he'd said, down on his hands and knees, crawling between my legs, his head trapped under my short pink skirt. "You're the tunnel, and I'm the train."
I suppose this tells you something about my personality. That I'm not especially good at taking advice. Or that I was born with an overload of curiosity. Or maybe it's about rebellion or boredom or fate. At any rate, it was a one-shot deal and darn disappointing, since I'd only gotten to be the tunnel, and I'd really wanted to be the train.
Ten years later, Joe Morelli was still living two blocks over. He'd grown up big and bad, with eyes like black fire one minute and melt-in-your-mouth chocolate the next. He had an eagle tattooed on his chest, a tight-assed, narrow-hipped swagger, and a reputation for having fast hands and clever fingers.
My best friend, Mary Lou Molnar, said she heard Morelli had a tongue like a lizard.
"Holy cow," I'd answered, "what's that supposed to mean?"
"Just don't let him get you alone or you'll find out. Once he gets you alone...that's it. You're done for."
I hadn't seen much of Morelli since the train episode. I supposed he'd enlarged his repertoire of sexual exploitations. I opened my eyes wide and leaned closer to Mary Lou, hoping for the worst. "You aren't taking about rape, are you?"
"I'm talking about lust! If he wants you, you're doomed. The guy is irresistible." Aside from being fingered at the age of six by you-know-who, I was untouched. I was saving myself for marriage, or at least for college. "I'm a virgin," I said, as if this was news. "I'm sure he doesn't mess with virgins."
"He specializes in virgins! The brush of his fingertips turns virgins into slobbering mush."
Two weeks later, Joe Morelli came into the bakery where I worked every day after school, Tasty Pastry, on Hamilton. He bought a chocolate-chip cannoli, told me he'd joined the navy, and charmed the pants off of me four minutes after closing, on the floor of Tasty Pastry, behind the case filled with chocolate eclairs.
The next time I saw him, I was three years older. I was on my way to the mall, driving my father's Buick when I spotted Morelli standing in front of Giovichinni"s Meat Market. I gunned the big V-8 engine, jumped the curb, and clipped Morelli from behind, bouncing him off the front right fender. I stopped the car and got out to asses the damage. "Anything broken?"
He was sprawled on the pavement, looking up my skirt. "My leg."
"Good," I said. Then I turned on my heel, got into the Buick, and drove to the mall.
I attribute the incident to temporary insanity, and in my own defense, I'd like to say I haven't run over anyone since.
Copyright © 1994 by Evanovich, Inc.
--This text refers to the
Mass Market Paperback
edition.
THERE ARE SOME MEN who enter a woman's life and screw it up forever. Joseph Morelli did this to me -- not forever, but periodically.
Morelli and I were both born and raised in a blue-collar chunk of Trenton called the burg. Houses were attached and narrow. Yards were small. Cars were American. The people were mostly Italian descent, with enough Hungarians and Germans thrown into offset inbreeding. It was a good place to buy calzone or play the numbers. And. if you had to live in Trenton anyway, it was an okay place to raise a family.
When I was a kid I didn't ordinarily play with Joseph Morelli. He lived two blocks over and was two years older. "Stay away from those Morelli boys," my mother had warned me. "They're wild. I hear stories about the things they do to girls when they get them alone."
"What kind of things?" I'd eagerly asked.
"You don't want to know," my mother had answered. "Terrible things. Things that aren't nice."
From that point on, I viewed Joseph Morelli with a combination of terror and prurient curiosity that bordered on awe. Two weeks later, at the age of six, with quaking knees and a squishy stomach, I followed Morelli into his father's garage on the promise of learning a new game.
The Morelli garage hunkered detached and snubbed at the edge of their lot. It was a sorry affair, lit by a single shaft of light filtering through a grime-coated window. Its air was stagnant, smelling of corner must, discarded tires, and jugs of used motor oil. Never destined to house the Morelli cars, the garage served other purposes. Old man Morelli used the garage to take his belt to his sons, his sons used the garage to take their hands to themselves, and Joseph Morelli took me, Stephanie Plum, to the garage to play train.
"What's the name of this game?" I'd asked Joseph Morelli.
"Choo-choo," he'd said, down on his hands and knees, crawling between my legs, his head trapped under my short pink skirt. "You're the tunnel, and I'm the train."
I suppose this tells you something about my personality. That I'm not especially good at taking advice. Or that I was born with an overload of curiosity. Or maybe it's about rebellion or boredom or fate. At any rate, it was a one-shot deal and darn disappointing, since I'd only gotten to be the tunnel, and I'd really wanted to be the train.
Ten years later, Joe Morelli was still living two blocks over. He'd grown up big and bad, with eyes like black fire one minute and melt-in-your-mouth chocolate the next. He had an eagle tattooed on his chest, a tight-assed, narrow-hipped swagger, and a reputation for having fast hands and clever fingers.
My best friend, Mary Lou Molnar, said she heard Morelli had a tongue like a lizard.
"Holy cow," I'd answered, "what's that supposed to mean?"
"Just don't let him get you alone or you'll find out. Once he gets you alone...that's it. You're done for."
I hadn't seen much of Morelli since the train episode. I supposed he'd enlarged his repertoire of sexual exploitations. I opened my eyes wide and leaned closer to Mary Lou, hoping for the worst. "You aren't taking about rape, are you?"
"I'm talking about lust! If he wants you, you're doomed. The guy is irresistible." Aside from being fingered at the age of six by you-know-who, I was untouched. I was saving myself for marriage, or at least for college. "I'm a virgin," I said, as if this was news. "I'm sure he doesn't mess with virgins."
"He specializes in virgins! The brush of his fingertips turns virgins into slobbering mush."
Two weeks later, Joe Morelli came into the bakery where I worked every day after school, Tasty Pastry, on Hamilton. He bought a chocolate-chip cannoli, told me he'd joined the navy, and charmed the pants off of me four minutes after closing, on the floor of Tasty Pastry, behind the case filled with chocolate eclairs.
The next time I saw him, I was three years older. I was on my way to the mall, driving my father's Buick when I spotted Morelli standing in front of Giovichinni"s Meat Market. I gunned the big V-8 engine, jumped the curb, and clipped Morelli from behind, bouncing him off the front right fender. I stopped the car and got out to asses the damage. "Anything broken?"
He was sprawled on the pavement, looking up my skirt. "My leg."
"Good," I said. Then I turned on my heel, got into the Buick, and drove to the mall.
I attribute the incident to temporary insanity, and in my own defense, I'd like to say I haven't run over anyone since.
Copyright © 1994 by Evanovich, Inc.
