Oh well. Maybe this summer I'll finally pick up the series where I (swiftly) jumped ship from. And... well... try again. Maybe with a glass of wine to go along with the reading. A sip for every occasion Rachel slobs all over herself over a shirtless man. Who happens to be an elf-thing. Who happens to be a killer somehow in need of the reader's sympathy. The details get fuzzy as the years go by, but the inner ache remains the same.
Aw, hell. Forget that noise! Maybe I'll try again when I have nothing else available to read. (Ah, let's go to Barnes & Nobles and order books today!)
R.I.P RACHEL MORGAN