Well, I warned you two days ago what would happen. Don’t blame me.

I have to confess that I started several other books – books with more gravitas, books with important things to say about the world, literary books, non-fiction books – but I just kept going back to this series.

What is it in us that wants to eat dessert first sometimes?

And why should we reign it in all the time? Why shouldn’t we, sometimes, just have breakfast for dinner and go on with life?

Life is about balancing the shoulds with the wish-I-hads. Too many wish-I-hads and I’ll find myself regretting – something I generally don’t allow myself to do. Too many shoulds and you end up working your whole life and missing all the fun things at once, with a heap of regret just as you pass away.

So why not immerse yourself in a fun break? Why not wonder, along with Violet, the heroine of these books, what the heck those albinos at the funeral home are up to, why they are going around lopping off heads with giant, amputation scissors, and what is in those mysterious crates that her chauvinistic co-worker poked into one time too many and found himself strapped to a gurney, nude, and awaiting vivisection? Why not wrestle with her physical and emotional desire for the strange, ghost-sniffing sexy financial planner next door – and wonder how she’s going to explain matters to her BFF since childhood who has already staked a claim? And how is she going to explain matters to her twin ten-year-olds, one of whom is determined to fix Violet up with her best friend’s dad, who is amenable to having Violet barefoot and pregnant in his kitchen; and the other of whom is determined to talk her out of ever marrying again, with predictable fireworks between the two kids? Why not worry about the local detective who is wondering how Violet has managed to coopt his 80-year-old lothario uncle, burn down a historic building and a car, and be present at four murders in just a month?

And here’s the funny thing about this series – which makes it so compelling that I stay up all night to read them: usually series like this have some time between each installment. A murder happens – or connected murders – the unofficial detective solves it/them, several months pass – or at least several weeks – and then something else happens and the unofficial detective finds themselves involved again. These are real-time. The first book ends, the second book starts later that day or the next day – there’s no time gap. I’m on book four, and it’s literally four weeks after the start of book one.

Which makes it very hard to put the book down, step away from the book, no sudden moves.

It’s like one giant story that just keeps going on.

And so many problems to solve! Each one seems independent but then you learn in the next book that each one connects back to the larger mystery.

What the heck is going on in Deadwood, SD?

Next time, perhaps, I’ll post about a book with more solemn importance, more literary value, more real-life application.

For now, it’s ice cream with bourbon on top for me.