2017 menjengah around the corner. Finally finished the book. This book and the other, somewhat make me feel a little bit tired with UK writers. They could drag the whole story around the bush telling you about nothing and they could do that, amazingly in 300 pages.
The Normal Me would have quit long time ago. But I want to be a finisher. I wanna finish things I have started. So I soldiered on.
Not to say that it's an entirely bad book, but the best parts, the parts that somewhat moved you were in the last hundred pages or so. Dang!
Look, I'm no expert to review books and stuffs. But damnnnnnn!
Third book of 2016. Yay!
And still a month and a half away for at least one more book or a head start for 2017. Whichever comes first.
Please pardon the title. I'm a hopeless romantic, the little girl inside me cries for these corny, mushy stuffs.