Older women often feel invisible, but sometimes that’s their secret weapon. First, a bit of a synopsis courtesy of the publisher’s back-cover copy: But onwards to the merits and demerits of Killers. If this were to be a series, I’d not follow Raybourn to the next book, but it looks, at least to me, it’s a standalone (I’d still argue the ending had a whiff of sequel-bait to it, though). But a premise is a premise is a premise and it’s Raybourn’s, so I can’t fault her for it. In the end, Killers of a Certain Age entertained me, but wasn’t powerful enough to dispel my niggling ugh-assassins conscience. Um, no, vigilante justice is problematic whether men or women exact it. I do love me older-women-kick-ass heroines and in this case, there are four, but I’ve never been able to stomach making heroes out of assassins, or heroines for that matter as the narrator quips, “It was the Wild West with no law but natural justice”. I’m a Deanna-Raybourn fan-girl and would read her napkin doodles, but I wasn’t sure about Killers of a Certain Age.
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