My best friend bought us tickets to something called an author occasion. We get to stand in lines and get autographs from a bunch of romance authors I’ve never heard of. This actually sounds like a lot of fun, but now I have to read about 20 different authors in two weeks and decide which lines I want to stand in. Like I would let just anyone sign my kindle cover (apparently that’s a thing now). I chose R.S. Grey first, because, hey, kindle unlimited!
Abby Mae and Beck meet when he follows her into a funeral home, and basically stalks her around the urn room while she tries to find the perfect container for the remains of her dog, even though she doesn’t have a dog and, obviously, he can see right through her. For some reason she tells this strange, but really handsome guy that she is going on a road trip to scatter fake dog’s ashes and he invites himself along. So, basically, I’ve found myself in YA hell, but I’m sticking with it until the end.
A few text messages and some painful exposition later, we find out that nineteen year old Abby Mae has been sick her entire life. She received a heart transplant two whole months ago and is already recovered enough to sneak away from her parents and go on a road trip across Texas with a sexy, patient, and witty stranger. It’s all very romantic. They sneak into a fake dinosaur exhibit and run away when they get caught. They take a surfing lesson, give each other lap dances on the beach, and run half a mile in the rain, which is all great, but I just can’t get over the whole she-had-a-heart-transplant-TWO-MONTHS-AGO thing out of my head. Although every now and then she does take a few pills, so I guess she is on top of it.
Their trip is cut short by tragedy, but Abby Mae is determined to live her life, so she heads over to Beck’s to resume the road trip and holy vagina, there is suddenly way too much condom-wrapped penis in this book for it to be YA.
Teen angst, witty-ish banter, scary scary sickness, and about 100 pages later it’s finally over, further cementing my belief that romance without werewolves, vampires, or fairies just isn’t as much fun. I guess it was a sweet, kind of ridiculous little story, but not one I would ever re-read. If you are dying to know what was in the urn, then this might just be the book for you.
So will I stand in R.S. Grey’s line? Hell yes, I will! What? It’s not like I have anything better to do that day. Besides, even though I wasn’t crazy about this particular story, I liked her writing style enough that I might just check out one of her other books.
