Thistle and Twigg

Thistle and Twigg, by Mary Saums

Buying a new cosy mystery is always something of a risk, since they more than other types of mysteries tend toward the overly cutesified. And buying one online is even more of a gamble, because you don't get the warning signs you can pick up by holding a book in your hands and scanning the first few pages.

Case in point: Exhibit A. On the one hand, we have a polite, genteel little old English lady, who just happens to be a highly trained CIA operative. (She's like Mrs. Pollifax, except Mrs. Pollifax was fun.) On the other hand, we have a rootin', tootin' Southern belle who paints her semiautomatic apricot blush and names it "Smokahontas." Really, does much more need to be said?

But there is more, including the incredibly lame shenanigans about covert militia groups and an untouched wilderness full of Ancient Mystic Indian Secrets. And of course, the ghosts.

See, this is where actually holding the book would have helped me, because the ghosts would have been a dealbreaker. Rule of Thumb #47: Ghosts in a book that's not a ghost story = pathetic and contrived plot device.