I was SO looking forward to this book. Not only is it by the author of the excellent ‘Ask, Tell‘, but the premise is also fantastically bonkers, and the Sheriff loves the cover art. Hotshot stockbroker has wild sex with the hotshot pilot of her private jet and then it turns to something more. Bring. It. On!
And then I read it. They fuck. They realise one employs the other. They fuck some more. Our heroine goes to therapy for a couple of minutes. They fuck. For a couple of pages, our heroine fails to be in touch with her emotions. They fuck. There’s some work stuff briefly, which mostly involves designer outfits and matching lingerie. They fuck. There’s some family stuff. They fuck. There’s some ex stuff, blink and you’ll miss it. They fuck. There is a brief section near the end of this book in which our lead characters are not ‘fucking’ or admiring each other’s outfits/lingerie – it’s the section where they realise they’re in love, The End. Good grief.
Better luck next time, hey?!