I wasn't feeling any sort of connection to anything in this book and I really don't see myself reading 416 pages of something I don't care about. Moving on ➡️

I'm too tired to continue this slow-paced story that just seems to be going in circles and has had nothing but 100 pages of women crying and yearning for men. This reading year f*cking sucks and has ended on the worst possible note. I don't want to read anymore. 

 DNF @49%

Three back-to-back DNFs, fun time 🙂

"There's no connection. It’s just one long string of really bad luck and I don’t know what kind of carnage I inflicted in my past life to deserve it. I must have been Dracula or a spin instructor or something.”

If you know, you know :) 

"You absolutely should." I answered, shifting on my feet with a small smile as I watched a manatee feeding on the seaweed, the motion of its biting in stark contrast to its barely satisfiable hunger shaping its rather rested comfortable volume like a glutinous bear who had its fill of salmon and was seconds away from hibernating, as the rest floated by with no regards for the competition of the continuing depletion of the current fodder.

Was it their usual serene kinetic muscle memory that swallowed up its sense of security of the periodical replenishment of is fodder by its caretaker or was their survival in the danger of competition of fodder activated when the source of its nutrition was completely stripped?

That's it. Figure it out on your own. 

I'm very tired of white, straight, cishet romance novels that use the same tropes over and over again. That, and I'd already read the third book in this series first, and wasn't as invested in the romance plotline because I found the author's writing structure and formula highly repetitive.