A one star review propelled me to read this book.
Why you ask?
Because Eleanor Briggs stalking a man, Trey, and watching him have sex through his bedroom window, from her condo across the road was fascinatingly different.
Her being a freak made me want to know her. Who she was. What made her tick.
I'll tell you where it all went wrong.
So I assumed - from the synopsis - we'd get a Joe Goldberg. To anyone who doesn't know him, he's from the You series (stalking a girl he's infatuated with - Guinevere Beck) ... so yes, I wanted the female version of that. I didn't expect murder or death, like Joe does. But I wanted Trey to fall for her lies. I was excited. I wanted a seductress, a puppet master. A woman who constructs a completely different life in order to obtain the man she wants, if only just to indulge in her own fantasy for a little while. A liar, a really good liar. A manipulator. A freak. I seriously wanted a freak who could entertain me and was a dichotomy.
She was that, to a degree, until she exposed herself.
Instead we got a real love story. I was really annoyed. Because:
1. The love of my life would never be a man who is as pretentious and pretty as Trey despite his "dominant edge". F*cking "pea coat"
2. Would never be someone I've spied having sex with other woman, and learning his sexual proclivities. I have a mean jealous streak. And it's just weird.
3. Someone who had the hots for my dead sister, even though nothing happened between them because he knew her. An even meaner jealous streak.
Just, no.
And even though she did all those things. Spy, lie, creating a different life. She admits it to him - relatively soon. And instead of running away, he stays with her, and isn't the least bit freaked out. They have hot sex, which was basically 75% of the book before they fall for one another. I need more substance.
The kind of stalker Eleanor was. I would have taken those lies to my grave and just loved having a man obsessed with me.
Never mind. I expected something different.