Chick lit. Not bad. A little forced, but readable. (Geez, do I sound pretentious, or what?)
It is about three sisters — triplets, thirty years old. Sort of triplets, as the books is careful to keep reminding us. Two from the same egg, one from a different egg. The different one is really different, especially in looks, with wild red hair.
The three sisters each have their own special character. Per the blurb: Lyn has organized her life into one big checklist, juggling the many balls of work, marriage, and motherhood with expert precision, but is she as together as her datebook would have her seem? Cat has just learned a startling secret about her marriage — can she bring another life into her very precarious world? And can free-spirited Gemma, who bolts every time a relationship hits the six-month mark, ever hope to find lasting love?
It is just the typical chick lit kind of story about decent people and the life stuff that happens to them. What made it really annoying for me was that sprinkled throughout the book were little vignettes, observations by outsiders, bystanders, passersby, presented as a memory of that bystander, or a postcard written to someone about what they observed, etc. Really, just so precious I could hardly stand it. Yeah, like you are going to write home from your vacation about some triplets you saw. Gimme a break.
So I am not going to actually give this a rating. Some genre fiction is really only pass/fail. If it isn’t awful, then it exists as a satisfactory member of its genre. This passes.