I woke up way too early this morning and then couldn’t find the book I was reading, which I thought was a horrific tragedy. I grabbed my Kindle to soothe my anxious reader’s soul and flipped through to this short, swoon worthy novel.
Before I knew it, I’d been sucked into this sweet, delicious story. Then I read a section that hit way too close to home, followed by a line that struck a nerve. It was so simple I can’t even remember it, but it produced tears, the really ugly kind (definitely an over-emotional, sleep-deprived kind of irrational reaction, but I blame Brighton Walsh, since her words triggered it).
Then my five-minutes-before-you-have-to-be-at-school alarm sounded, and I realized my hair was a wet, tangled mess, I wasn’t dressed, and I hadn’t fed the dog or put him out. Despite all that, I kept reading while I tried to complete all those tasks in five minutes and drive to middle school. I stumbled in late with wet, tangled hair and red eyes, feeling completely stunned and thinking waaaaaaay too much about um . . . curriculum and assessments? (okay: sexy things, very sexy things). . . just in time to be called in front of the whole school at assembly and honored for National Librarian’s Day.
So if you like a steamy, well-written romance novel that is captivating enough to wreck complete havoc on your real world, this is it. Naturally, as soon as I got home, I finished the story, which gave me all kinds of excellent feels. Now, I’m busy daydreaming about snuggling up with Logan, snuggling being the G rated word for my definitely NC-17 thoughts.