To begin with, the Tired Tropes.
Trope #1: The “woke up in Vegas married” trope . . . .
I never get tired of this one.
Then there was Trope #2: The “I had your baby 9 years ago but never bothered telling you about him” . . . . .
Me no likey that one at all (and it made me pretty much never like the leading lady either), but let’s move on because y’all know it’s really about the dude anyway. I picked this book out of all of the other recommended
Is oh so very splooshtastic. But then I found out the “rock star” was a country and western star . . . .
Apologies to all (except my husband since he lives to torture me with the shit), but I’m just not a big fan of country music. Except Wagon Wheel. I like every damn version of that mofo.
Now we need to address the horribly embarrassing fuckery my brain pulled on me that severely wilted my ladyboner. Although the leading male was clearly described as . . . .
“All six and a half feet of him stood there: the deep blue eyes that sparkled at her as one brown curl fell boyishly over his forehead.”
And even with my limited knowledge of country singers, I should have AT MINIMUM been able to imagine Blake Shelton, once I heard his name was “Travis” my brain decided to picture him as a blast from my
Complete with stone-washed jeans and mullet and errrrrythang. Thanks brain. You’re the worst.
I thought surely I could get caught up in the moment, however, and I continued on. And then the female lead mentioned her “channel” and, well . . . . . .
Thanksfully, she only used that word once so all was good in the hood and they had many sexuals that were probably super awesome, but . . . . .
And that’s all there is. This is probably better than my rating is giving it credit for being. We all know that I
(Image courtesy of Jilly)