Sundays at Tiffany's by James Patterson
This is not typical Patterson fare. There's no murder, no choppy chapters, no characters from a series making an appearance.
Instead, this is Patterson trying to write a love story, in the same vein as his (uber-treacly) Sam's Letters to Jennifer or Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas. This time, Jane is a sad, lonely 32 year old women who falls in love - with her imaginary friend from childhood.
I think having a female co-author helped Patterson marginally this time - the plot is still treacly, but bearable if gimmicky, and you come to root for the characters, which is nice. This read was...pleasant. And short. At three hundred rather small, hugely fonted, well spaced pages, this is a "whip through in an hour or two" read. Which, sometimes, is nice.
If you are looking for "typical" Patterson, though, this isn't it!