After a short spell of reading “real” literature, I’m back on the scene. Or back in the saddle. Or back on the wagon. Or whatever you want to call it. Point being, I cracked open a romance novel and it wasn’t chock-full of rape and nastiness. In fact, it was most enjoyable. Well, the parts where they were going at each other like starving dogs after a filet were enjoyable. The rest – those boring filler pages where you learn things and get to know the characters, yawwwwwwn – was pretty skim-worthy.
Hint: this book (and the recap) is infinitely better if you think of it as THE PURRRRFECT LOVAHHHHH, said in a husky sort of moan. Seriously.