"An hour later, Aaron was breathing as heavily as Sarah."
Because they're looking for a GUINEA PIG. Get your minds out of the gutter, filthy heathens.
So lately (like, for the last 80 pages or so), the stereotypical Hispanic housekeeper has been saying "oy" a lot. Because Yiddish and Spanish are the same thing, apparently. I just wish the author would take it a little farther. Roommate suggests "This is muy meshuggeneh," while I'm kind of partial to "Ay, mija, why are you wearing that shmatte?"
It took 258 pages, but the two most boring people ever formed out of damp Wonder bread and smushed into a flimsy plot are finally making out. But they're leaving room for the Holy Spirit:
His eyes softened into a caress. Powerful arms that had pulled countless accident victims to safety, embraced her. Never taking his eyes off her and face angling, Aaron closed his mouth over hers with intent that curled her toes. Yet she knew he held back on all levels. As soon as she thought her skin would meld like Play-Do into his, he pulled back. But only an inch. ...
She leaned into the comfort of his embrace. He kissed her again. Deeper this time, yet still tender and respectful. She felt like she couldn't get close enough, but he continually kept a polite, safe space between them.
Also, Aaron's horrible twin sister, the bounty hunter (yeah...I know. She has a job, but she's also a lady! And it's a job a man could do! I'm sure that will be explained) has shown up and hates Sarah with the white-hot burning passion of a thousand suns, because being a bounty hunter, she did a background check and knows Sarah killed hit a little girl with her car ten years ago and therefore...something. But of course, she's not telling her brother that the woman living in his house and watching his kids is an alcoholic with a history of vehicular assault. Because she doesn't have all the facts! And we need a ridiculous excuse to drag this book out for another 80 effing pages while Milquetoast and Meeble recite lame internal monologues and compose floppy prayers in their hollow, echoing heads.
I would be so happy if she'd just stop randomly capitalizing things and hyphenating entire clauses.
So lately (like, for the last 80 pages or so), the stereotypical Hispanic housekeeper has been saying "oy" a lot. Because Yiddish and Spanish are the same thing, apparently. I just wish the author would take it a little farther. Roommate suggests "This is muy meshuggeneh," while I'm kind of partial to "Ay, mija, why are you wearing that shmatte?"
It took 258 pages, but the two most boring people ever formed out of damp Wonder bread and smushed into a flimsy plot are finally making out. But they're leaving room for the Holy Spirit:
His eyes softened into a caress. Powerful arms that had pulled countless accident victims to safety, embraced her. Never taking his eyes off her and face angling, Aaron closed his mouth over hers with intent that curled her toes. Yet she knew he held back on all levels. As soon as she thought her skin would meld like Play-Do into his, he pulled back. But only an inch. ...
She leaned into the comfort of his embrace. He kissed her again. Deeper this time, yet still tender and respectful. She felt like she couldn't get close enough, but he continually kept a polite, safe space between them.
Also, Aaron's horrible twin sister, the bounty hunter (yeah...I know. She has a job, but she's also a lady! And it's a job a man could do! I'm sure that will be explained) has shown up and hates Sarah with the white-hot burning passion of a thousand suns, because being a bounty hunter, she did a background check and knows Sarah killed hit a little girl with her car ten years ago and therefore...something. But of course, she's not telling her brother that the woman living in his house and watching his kids is an alcoholic with a history of vehicular assault. Because she doesn't have all the facts! And we need a ridiculous excuse to drag this book out for another 80 effing pages while Milquetoast and Meeble recite lame internal monologues and compose floppy prayers in their hollow, echoing heads.
I would be so happy if she'd just stop randomly capitalizing things and hyphenating entire clauses.