Quick review for a truly abhorrent reading experience (for me). This was a random library read I picked up, and suffice to say I won’t be reading the sequel to this.

*sighs* I’ll put it like this: it’s a bad sign when you have nothing good to say about a book upon finishing it, but it’s even worse when the experience is so bad that you have little to nothing to say about it. Usually when I’m writing reviews about a book that I dislike, I have a plethora of things to say that was wrong with the experience and I’ll spell it all out. In this case? Everything with this just didn’t work for me.

I spent most of the book either bored or just shaking my head at Judith. This book wasn’t well written, the sex scenes lacked connectivity (mostly they were for shock value, but I wasn’t shocked or impressed at all), the so called crime aspects were fleeting and disconnected. The constant weight shaming, brand dropping, among other things just threw me even further off the plight. I saw where the book was going with Judith’s character, but again I couldn’t care enough to be able to connect and follow her experience with true investment. I think if there were one thing about the novel that stood out to me on a “good” note was the establishment of the scenic art world and there were tendrils of high society life that could’ve developed into something interesting, but it didn’t immerse me as the book went onward.

If L.S. Hilton writes another series, I might see if I can give her writing another go just to see if it connects better with me, but my journey with this series ends here. I just can’t bring myself to care and I’m coming out of this novel more frustrated that I wasted my time with it than taking it for the experience of the story itself.

Overall score: 1/5 stars.

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