SMOKIN SEVENTEEN, by Janet Evanovich

17,series. Better authors than the wildly successful Evanovich have succumbed to the lure of tossing in a lot of needless sex to jazz up a series; okay, that marks me as a sexually-obsessed Andy Rooney, doesn't it? But Evanovich's nutso heroine, skip tracer Stephanie Plum, hops from one steamy encounter to another - once even with her ass riding on a car horn, sheesh! - while tryng to work off a curse from Bella the Witch, and hoping wild gorilla sex will make up her mind which guy she loves more. After the debacle of #16, this does come as a pleasant surprise, as the plot actually is more than destroyed cars and Lula scarfing donuts, and the author's usual clutch of wildly wierd characters are interesting. Even the octogenarian vampire and the demented Lexus driver. Its a 4, but barely.