Page 28 of Money Shot

SIENNA

October 5th,2014

I stared blankly at the monitor. The book was a disaster, the wine was aplenty, and the night was yet another spent at home alone. I wondered if I died in my sleep some night or fell into a wine induced coma and was unplugged from life support by some nurse who hated cool bitches just who would write and read my eulogy. I considered what it might say, based on them somehow finding someone who knew me well enough to write something.

She drove a cool car and her hair was awesome.

She had a nice butt when she wore those jeans from The Limited.

Her nail beds were nice, but she rarely chose a good color of polish.

Her eyebrows needed work.

Thinking about it, I came close to crying. I had no one, was falling for a man that would probably never fall for me, yet I couldn’t fathom ever wanting any other man. My life had become a disaster. I was twenty-six, single, and had spent a lifetime in and out of relationships with losers. My father was probably turning over in his grave at the thought of his precious daughter withering away as an unmarried woman now pushing thirty years old.

My father, not unlike me, was constantly reading something. Everything from cookbooks to old folklore could be found beside his bed on any given day. He was a sponge willing to soak up anything he could gather from reading. Me? I became a dreamer while he was away in prison, and began reading romance novels as fast as I could flip the pages. As soon as I got a Kindle and learned of the one-click option, my savings account began to dwindle, and my TBR list grew into the thousands.

Romance novels were my weakness, and living the life depicted in them had become my dream.

Before my father went to prison, he told me persistence is rewarded in a manner indifference will never know. I applied it all through high school, and my grades were a reflection of his wise words and my desire to make him proud of his little girl.

I considered the advice of my father, and decided unless I applied it to my life, I would simply fall back into a proven pattern of slipping further and further away from what it was I deserved.

I deserved to be loved as much as I was able to love.

My eyes eventually focused on the monitor, and I realized I had spent an immeasurable amount of time wallowing in my sorrows. Spiraling into a state of self-pity wasn’t something I needed to do, and I knew focusing on my review should resolve the issue.

I grabbed the bottle of wine, raised it to my lips, and took a long drink. Much to my surprise, the flow of the sweet substance abruptly stopped, leaving me holding a useless glass paperweight over my bobbing head.

How in the fuck did that happen?

I blinked my eyes and stared at the bottle. It was definitely empty, even though I had opened it only a few minutes prior.

I swear, they’re making these bottles smaller. Maybe the glass is thicker and they hold less...

I shook the bottle, gazed blankly at the bottom, and shoved it onto the desk beside my monitor. After teetering back and forth for a few seconds, it stopped quivering and came to rest upright and…

Empty.

The bottle’s ability to hold itself upright after I tossed it across my desk was all the proof I needed that the wineries were making the glass thicker, and providing me with much less of the nerve soothing potion I required to complete my Sunday night ritual.

Fuckers.

I glared at the screen, angry about the wine situation. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” by The Pretenders calmed my nerves as I began to read my glorious review.

You’re probably reading this review wondering just what book I read. Well, don’t let all the five star reviews fool you. I’m drunk enough, experienced enough, and lack fear of retribution enough to give an honest opinion.

And here it is.

This book was awful.

And regardless of how many tens of thousands of followers the author has, I’m not afraid to admit it.

I refuse to fall in line with every other reader or reviewer who states this book is a “great read” or “fabulous” just because the author is a well-recognized figure in the industry.

Newsflash.

Five star reads are NOT books that have unbelievable characters doing unbelievable things.