I was in the office when you showed up this morning.” “What happened to the filing job? Who does the filing now?” We were debating nachos at the deli-mart against a sub at Giovichinni’s. We were about a half mile from the office and we were leaning against my yellow Ford Escape, trying to make a lunch choice. At the moment, Lula and I were standing in the parking lot of a deli-mart on Hamilton Avenue. Lula is a former hooker who was hired to do the filing for the bail bonds office but spends a lot of her day trailing after me. And more to the point, Lula isn’t actually a bounty hunter. To begin with, there are some really bad bounty hunters out there. Maybe it’s not fair to have Lula in the running for worst bounty hunter of all time.

And my sometimes partner, Lula, is possibly the worst. An incredibly hot guy with the street name Ranger is the best. I’m not the best BEA in the world, and I’m not the worst. I’m a Bond Enforcement Agent, working for my cousin Vincent Plum, and I run down bad guys.

The Hungarian genes also carry a certain amount of luck and gypsy intuition, both of which I need in my present job. I’m told the good Hungarian metabolism lasts only until I’m forty, so I’m counting down. My mother’s side is Hungarian and from this I get blue eyes and the ability to eat birthday cake and still button the top snap on my jeans. Not to mention, I inherited a lot of unmanageable brown hair and rude hand gestures from my father’s Italian side of the family. A good example in Jersey isn’t exactly the national ideal. Okay, so my mother was probably right, but I’m from Jersey and truth is, I have a hard time getting a grip on the good example thing. You have to exercise, eat good food, and be nice to old people.” “You’re famous now,” my mother said when the paper came out. I’d walk down the street and people would recognize me.

I got my picture in the paper for that one. Like the time I accidentally burned down a funeral home. My name is Stephanie Plum, and I drop a lot of jelly globs, figuratively and literally. And then, just when you decide it’s good, you drop a big glob of jelly on your best T-shirt.

You don’t really know what it’s about until you bite into it. The way I see it, life is a jelly doughnut.

10 big ones janet evanovich