Author: James Collins
Read copy: Paperback
Published: August 4, 2008
When Peter Russell finally meets the woman of his dreams he falls as madly in love as you can on a flight from New York to LA. Her name is Holly. She's achingly pretty with strawberry-blonde hair, and reads Thomas Mann for pleasure. She gives Peter her phone number on a page of The Magic Mountain, but in his room that night Peter finds the page is inexplicably, impossibly, enragingly...gone.
So begins the immensely entertaining story of Peter and his unrequited love for his best friend's girl; of Charlotte and her less-than-perfect marriage to a man in love with someone else; of Jonathan and his wicked and fateful debauchery; and of Holly, the impetus for it all. Along the way, there's the evil boss, the desirable temptress, miscommunications, misrepresentations, fiendish behavior, letters gone astray, and ultimately, an ending in which every character gets his due.
My reaction after finishing this book: Oh. My. Effing. God.
My second reaction after finishing this book: Is this for real?
My third reaction after finishing this book: Oh. My. Effing. God. I’ll never get these few hours back.
It was like reading a high-school creative writing assignment, watching a made-for-DVD movie and a soap opera, and reading a cheesy Valentine’s card all at the same time.
I don’t like chick-lit as a rule, but this chick-lit, written by a guy, was the worst of the worst. Crème de la crème, really. In a bad way.
I know this is Romancelandia, or in this case Chicklitlandia, but can someone please tell me, how it’s possible for so many perfect people to be in one place? It’s enough to give you diabetes.
And don’t get me started on the rest of it. Cheesy, un-freaking-believable, un-freaking-realistic, clichéd, juvenile...etc. *shudder*