That was a book. Written by Julia Spencer-Fleming. About Clare Fergusson and Russ van Alstyne. In a series of mystery books.

And that explains why I read it. Why I stuck with it until the end. Because the format of minute-to-minute or hour-to-hour detailed storytelling might have been an interesting craft choice, it made for a pointless novel. A futile episode in the middle of a series.

So I'm done and that's that.

*picks up the next book*

I liked it, just not enough to write a proper review:

Construct a three or four step murder mystery. Add a dash of red herrings and a congregation of suspects. Mix them up with a character driven slow burn—emphasis on the slow—romance and voilà. You've just mastered the recipe for a delicious book in a genre that has seen everything.

Serve in intallments. Dammit.