(Note: I had no clue today was Thursday, and therefore totally spaced Thursday Thirteen. Oops.)
I started a book last night by a long-time favorite author of mine. I mean a long time favorite. No, I will not identify the author or the book. Sorry.
So, anyway. After many years of amazingly good books and a few years of ‘still better than a lot of others’ books, she totally phoned this one in. It’s obvious from page one, and it doesn’t get better.
She saw him through the window and her heart beat faster. He was handsome. He had xx hair and xx eyes and was xx feet tall. He wore blah and blah and blah.
But maybe he’d come to find her because Mr. X had hired him. She was scared. Her heart beat faster. She had to run!
Oh no, he knocked on the door! Her heart beat even faster. He was so handsome! She must flee his handsomeness! And maybe he was after her! She must flee!
Then he smiled. Her heart beat faster.
Believe it or not, I didn’t paraphrase all that much. Seriously, I keep waiting for her to drop dead because I’m pretty sure there’s a limit to how fast one’s heart can beat.
So my crushed and devastated little reader’s heart just keeps beating at its regular pace crying Why?
This author has the juice to extend her deadline, to reschedule her release. And she chose to phone it in. I’m very sad.