Isn't it just so disheartening when those experiences that gave you pleasure
in your earlier years fail to give the same spark when you come across them again.
For example, you watch those comedic shows of your childhood and wonder what you
found funny in the first place. You almost laugh in sympathy or is it derision at your kindeargaten/pubescent
naivette.

I was dreading the same personal emotional transformation, after I ordered a pacesetter novel online. Who can forget those
pacesetter novels. With those funny illustrations on the cover and catchy titles. It took me no more than a sitting to read a title,
a worthy companion those lonely nights in boarding school.

The title I ordered was ''Teardrops at Sunset'', one I hadn't read before. And well, was the spark still evident.
Hmm. . .somewhat. My literary palate has obviously matured with age and I am a lot more critical now than I was then.
In places, the book read like the writing of an imaginative secondary school pupil whose primary abilty was spinning a good yarn.
Trouble was about to 'burst' in some instances for example, or characters were crossing 'parlours' to enter their bedrooms. Adequate English
at best.

But the storyline, as it should be at this level, is its saving grace. It is almost compelling at times, and slightly ridiculous in others with obvious holes.
Of course these books are meant for a much younger audience than this old daddy. And looking back, I am less harsh on myself for being so enamoured
with this series. As a matter of fact I have just ordered a few more from the series Guilty Pleasures eh

what is the story line?

where did u order from?