The Perfect Wife. A Mediocre Book.

The Perfect Wife, Blake Pierce

3 kinda stale pretzels.

I’ve been in a bit of reading funk, so I’ve been hitting up audiobooks on Hoopla. If Hoopla is available through your local library and you aren’t using it, what are you even doing? Hoopla is dope. Tons of ebook and audiobooks, and you get them for 21 days.

So, anyway, I’ve been all in on these thriller audiobooks. I gave The Perfect Wife by Blake Pierce a shot and here’s what I thought.

If, like Uncle Stevie says, the road to hell is paved with adverbs, then The Perfect Wife is the well-maintained toll road. Good god a’mighty. Every other word ends in ly. Aside from that, I had one major problem. The plots. There are two of them, and one of them is interesting as hell. The other one is full of terrible, gaslighting men. It’s tedious, so we’ll get through that one first. Jessie and her hubby – honestly, I don’t even remember his name – have moved to the ‘burbs. They’ve been accepted at a super exclusive country club and homeboy legit has the vapors. Someone get this man a fainting couch. He’s a huge freakin’ deal.

Meanwhile, Jessie is kinda dope. She’s going to school to be a profiler. Interacting with real life psychos is part of her schoolin’. Thankfully, this weird ass club she and hubs have joined is chock full of them. Anyway, Jessie gets special permission to visit a super high security facility housing the worst of the worst. She begins interviewing Brady. She has her own personal reasons for wanting to meet with him that I won’t get into because it will spoil the best part of this book. The part of the book that will absolutely make me read the second one.

Let’s get back to the douchebaggery, shall we? So, big surprise to no one, the club is a weird sex club. The men get to bang gals from Russia while the wives get unlimited Gucci bags and to have brunch whenever they feel like it. Seriously. The ladies get that laid back glamour life while the husbands get herpes. Probably.

So, Jessie finds out what’s goin’ on in da’ club and is less than pleased. I don’t blame her. Look, he husband didn’t even have the decency to tell her about the brunch perk. I don’t tolerate much, but I’m more likely to tolerate stuff if I’m kept in bloody Marys and eggs Benedict.

Again, I don’t want to give too much of the plot away because the book is decent. So I’ll get back to the actual writing. A lot of people in this book scowled moodily and smiled happily and sat in silence silently. It’s a lot. I think maybe if I’d read it with my eyes rather than my ears, I wouldn’t have noticed.

Okay, byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Smoky Lynx