Reading, for me, is entertainment and an escape from the real world. But it can also inform and stretch the boundaries of the life I live.
This miserable book started out with 32 pages of exposition, setting up a ludicrous situation with two dimensional characters, served with steaming piles of cliché. It only got worse in the second chapter. I gave this my minimum 50 pages and DNF'd on page 56 upon reading this from the main love interest's POV: "The women he liked were very understanding and tolerant of what he did for a living, but none of them were cooks. It seemed to be a law of life that women who took their clothes off for a living didn't cook, while women who went to church did." This while ogling her ass and grumbling about being ordered to seduce information out of her.