In one easy title.
Just finished Bangkok 8 by John Burdett, which is as much a 10 as the next mistake, No Angel "by" Jay Dobyns is a zero. This painful account of an undercover cop infiltrating the Hells Angels is like watching someone construct a paint by numbers portrait except they're not using colours. He doesn't use words, merely grunts and clichés and appears to have the literary skills of the Sopranos at Kindergarten.
Appallingly t-e-r-r-i-b-l-e.
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