Mile High

I'm beginning to think that maybe, just maybe I should avoid reading romance for a while. But one (maybe two or three) mediocre romance story does not mean they fall from the very same tree. Sigh. I'm kinda bummed, really.

... metal of his rings ignites my skin, and just for tonight, I try my hardest......The metal of his rings digs into my hipbone....the metal of his rings pressing into my body...

Why does a man wears more jewellery than an average woman? And the rings must be monstrous in size, no, to be digging into her hipbone? Why? Why? And do we need to be reminded every single time that he's loaded and wears only designers clothing? For fuck's sake. Overcompensating much, are we?

I can't. I just can't.

With all the issues – too many, I can't even point out which one to highlight. Mommy issues, daddy issues, body positivity issues, mental health issues, just to name some. I mean, man, go easy with the issues! You don't have to cram everything, all at once. I understand the need to highlight these issues, but there's too much going on. It's messy. But of course, that's just me.

Penat ah. Penat.