I just gave up on reading a book (again, I don't know if it's fair to review something I didn't finish) out of sheer irritatedness at the bimbo heroine. Why is it that it seems like British books do this even more than the American ones do?
The heroine is one of those wannabe novelists who can't put down words on a page and daydreams about her future fabulousness that will never happen. Same as everyone else, right. She lies that she has a better job than "media lackey." She pouts because a girl she knows always does better than she does and actually bothered to put words down on a page and get a book deal. (Well, she did the work and you didn't...) I don't know how I am supposed to have sympathy for the girl who's always outshone if she's always outshone with good reason.
Left alone in the office and instructed to go fish a article off her boss's computer, she finds his illicit cheating e-mails...and stupidly manages to post the e-mails in the middle of the article (how?!) and send it off to the publisher and nobody proofs it or anything. Right. Then she magically gets a job offered to her on a platter by this random famous author (who somehow hasn't managed to read the news? and met you once?) and I was all, "Oh, for fuck's sake, DO NOT HAND THIS BIMBO A SWEET JOB WHEN SHE CLEARLY DOES NOT DESERVE IT." And chucked it.
You know, I liked Bridget Jones, idiot heroine, but that's because she was funny (if well, nothing else, I have to admit). I liked Queen Betsy, idiot heroine, because she had some good personal qualities despite the dumb. I do not get the idiot heroine when she isn't even funny. And I flat out get annoyed at being told that she deserves better when she clearly isn't doing the work for it. Frankly, I couldn't stand to wait around while she gets (probably) Colin Firth on a platter too. Oh yeah, and her relatives constantly calling her a cutesy nickname that sounds like a disturbing plastic cheese product was just getting on my nerves.
In case you haven't guessed what with the much lower starred reviews than usual around here, I have a GINORMOUS pile of freebie books I have acquired from people over the last couple of years, none of which I had any strong motivation to read upon looking at the back blurbs. Since the pile is now humongous and is eating pieces of furniture, I have decided to spend the summer trying to read the damn things so I can get them out of my house (pretty much the same thing that this guy is doing with his box). Let's hope there's more unexpected treasures in there like Then She Found Me instead of more turds like this one.