Let me just start by saying—I get the hype. 1st to Die pulled me in from the first chapter and didn’t let go, even when I tried to go to sleep like a responsible adult. (Spoiler alert: I failed. Sleep is overrated when fictional murderers are on the loose.)
This is the first book in the Women’s Murder Club series, and now I see why everyone and their mystery-loving aunt has already devoured it. At the center is Lindsay Boxer, a homicide inspector who’s doing the absolute most—solving brutal murders, battling a terrifying disease, and somehow still managing to be both tough and totally relatable. I really liked her. She’s a woman working in a man’s world, but she doesn’t lose her femininity to do it. She’s smart, brave, and a little reckless in a way that feels very human—especially once we find out about her diagnosis. Honestly, it made sense that she started taking more risks. If you think you’re dying, you might as well go out on your own terms, right? (I mean, if I ever get terrible news, you’ll find me skydiving with a donut in each hand.)
Now, the concept of the Women’s Murder Club? Genius. Four women—each a powerhouse in her own field—solving crimes over dinner and drinks. Lindsay’s the cop, Cindy’s a journalist, Claire’s a medical examiner, and Jill’s a prosecutor. The girl power here is off the charts, but it never feels forced or gimmicky. Just sharp minds, solving twisted crimes, and still managing to have each other’s backs. I’d totally join their club, though I’d probably just be the one bringing snacks and going, “Wait, what did the autopsy say again?”
Speaking of twisted crimes—this killer was intense. I actually appreciated that Patterson introduced the killer’s perspective early on. It gave the story a balanced rhythm and made the suspense even more intense, like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You want to look away, but… no chance. Every time a couple was murdered, the rings went missing, and that detail added a weirdly poetic layer. Like the killer wasn’t just ending lives—he was trying to erase love itself.
And then there was the romance. Lindsay and Chris Raleigh had the kind of slow-burn relationship that made me go aww even while flipping pages like a maniac to see who got murdered next. Of course, just when I started rooting for their future—bam. That ending. I won’t spoil it if you haven’t read it, but let’s just say, I was NOT okay. I audibly gasped. My cat looked at me like I needed help. Poor, poor Ernie.
Oh, and the actual killer? Didn’t see it coming. I had my suspicions, but Patterson played me. I guessed it was someone close to Nick Jenks, but his ex-wife? Plot twist! She seemed like she had it together, but apparently not. Some people really take “til death do us part” a bit too seriously. (Like, ma’am, there are easier ways to express heartbreak.) And how often do you get women serial killers, anyway? Yep. I got played.
Bottom line: I loved the friendship, I loved the plot, and I loved that this wasn’t just another murder mystery—it had heart. And brainpower. And margaritas.
I’m absolutely picking up the next book in the series, because now I need to know what happens next. Consider me officially hooked—and slightly suspicious of weddings.
