I would give this a 3.8 just because the main character was as awful as they come. I disliked her with a PASSION. If the main guy (forgive me, my husband) wasn't like he is I would've totally given it a 2.5. For trying. But WITH him? Let me just get out of the way this fact: HE IS SARCASTIC. AND HE LOVES READING, I REPEAT, HE LOVES READING. Catch me please, I have fallen. Down a cliff, call 911. My heart cannot take the pressure. Shrapnel...everywhere. And let me tell you, would I recommend this? Not necessarily, based on the fact that again, the main girl? An absolute pain in the butt. Or like, as much pain as getting your toe punctured by that dang corner that ALWAYS seems to want to stab you. That's how I would describe her. Also, sunshine on a Disney movie. On steroids. I don't like princesses so yes, she would be exactly that. Again, let me fangirl a bit about Davin. He was wow, he was perfection. He was glorious. Exquisite, mouth watering, amazing, unfathomably awesome. Yes, that would explain him perfectly. I will leave this mini mess of a review by blessing you with scraps of his existence, excuse my French, his beautiful existence, which may or may not have made me incredibly thirs-
I sighed and stretched my neck. “Okay.” I thought about it. “I twomble. If
there was an Olympic medal for twombling, I would get gold. Every time. Hands
down.”
She snorted. “You what?”
“Twomble. It means to abruptly leave an awkward situation without saying a
word.”
He looked at me, his eyebrow quirked in surprise. “What?”
“You went over there and ordered with total ease and confidence.”
“I’m not shy, Avery. I dislike social contact. There’s a difference.”
Pardon me, how am I not supposed to fall head over heels for him??? Also, another saving point? His grandma. Loved her. Loved him. As usual, I finished the book content, all: Awww that was so sweet, I hope they persist or like, break up. Because the main witch here, needs a backbone. Make that four.
To then (after closing the book and taking a deep breath, walking around, stretching my cramped self. Reading is a perilous thing my loves. Very...difficult on the bones. And like, eyesight. *snort*) have a total and absolute moment of: I NEED HIM, WHY IS HE NOT REAL?!? WHY IS HE WITH HER?!? WHERE CAN I HAVE HIM CRAFTED?!?! YO DISNEY! YOUR GIRL NEEDS YOUUUU!!*cue sadness for days* I will forever remember you, Davin Ambrose.
P.S: Did I forget to tell you HE READS?!? AND LOVES READING?!? That's it, someone get me a wedding dress and a ring. This man here, my husband he is.
P.S.S: A very nice being gently instructed me that "p.s" meant post-script (which I knew but to be fair, it was 2 am. Don't attack me please) And y'all know what I thought that "p.s" meant at that moment? Postponed Sarcasm. Pondering Sassiness. Preposterous Saltiness. Someone hit me with a brick porfavor. A small brick. Better yet, just make me watch Allegiant *horrified shudder*.