It was March 11th…
And I was only supposed to be reading the first couple chapters to see if it would be the book I brought with me today.
When I finished the book it was March 12th…. at 8AM to be exact.
I stayed up ALL NIGHT reading this damn book.
And I kid you not, I went from grumbling about what an asshole my next-door neighbor is for not telling his guest to turn down the music blasting from his shitty truck stereo….to hoping no one calls the cops to file a complaint against ME for Excessive, Non-Stop, Unapologetically raucous, Half-sounds like I’m sobbing, tears glistening, GUT-FEELS-LIKE-I-DID-500-CRUNCHES Laughter….
Later on this month will likely be my third attempt at reading an Emma Chase novel. (Dang nab it, her book covers are so enticing and seductive I couldn’t resist). And after the first couple Alice Clayton books I steered clear of her, too. Why? Well it’s not because I think they’re terrible writers. It’s because I’m such a friggin weirdo that I can’t even escape feeling second hand embarassment when it comes to fictional characters…in books. I blame my active imagination. Even though their stories are in novel form I can picture it well enough to make me cringe.
You want to know one of the most embarrassing acts to watch at a talent show? It’s not that the girl who can’t sing at all (despite what her parents told her), or the guy who unintentionally break-dances his ass right off the side of the stage, OR the woman I actually watched fall into the orchestra pit in the theatre on a family cruise a few years ago…. COMEDIANS. I cannot watch stand up comedy because I can’t chance the agony I’ll be in if I have to sit through someone making a complete fool out of themselves when they try and fail to be funny.
I rarely watch Romantic Comedies—but I NEVER read them….because most of the time they’re not funny at all.
THIS BOOK WAS FUCKING HILARIOUS
It was funny…and it was steamy.
Mirror-Fogging steamy tension. No, I mean seriously… I’ve lost count of how many novels I’ve come across where the author tries and fails to write a convincing hate-to-love scenario. Another recent read of mine, Roomhate, is a perfect example of an EPIC FAIL at convincing me theirs ever any hate present. I’m talking—Don’t even bother with your opening argument or requesting that the case be dismissed because the jury’s already convicted you of LOVE not hate—level of fail.
Lucy + Joshua are the perfect recipe for ANGRY sex…and for some reason, even just being the spectator that Lucy narrates the story too….Sweet Baby Jesus, I don’t even own a pair, but I felt like I was getting blue balls…. I was almost as frustrated as Lucy. Her office nemesis single-handedly reengineered the meaning of the term “Cock Tease” <— That’s usually reserved for women. Nope. He managed to accomplish torture without 50-shades-of-psycho’s
The Hating Game is everything that every Rom-Com themed novel tries to be.
Oh and another thing:
LISTEN UP ALL YOU 50-SHADES INSPIRED AUTHORS: THIS is how you write a fucking [redeemable] hero with issues that stems from his family and/or past. This is how you write a guy who’s an insufferable asshole 99.9% of the time in a way that doesn’t make your reader—well, this reader—wonder why your female lead hasn’t punched him in the dick with brass knuckles and then filed a restraining order after moving at least three states away from his crazy ass. Joshua Templeman is a man with actual redeeming quality. His frequent bursts of anger don’t red-line as [future convict on death row for my murder]…it reads like it’s supposed to: Jealousy. He’s WORTH it, Goddamn it. Those other Alpha males are creepy as Hell.
Take some fucking notes!
And since I’m rambling anyway, can I just say Lucy and Joshua’s day and night personalities compliment each other perfectly? Lucy is too easy for everyone (but him) to walk all over and Joshua shines his steel-toed boots every morning before he STOMPS all over everyone.
Okaaaay…. Someone needs to take my Macbook from me or I’ll be tempted to come back and write an even longer thesis on the awesomeness of this book.
The only thing I HATE about this book is that when I got to the end there was no page advertising all of Sally Horne’s others books because this is only her debut. Seriously…. **HULK SAD**
FIVE STARS, Yo.
I don’t even give a shit if i’m overselling this and someone goes into the book with higher expectations than can be met.
FIVE—I’ll most definitely be reading this one again—Stars.
— Rambo-Rambler OUT.