I was really excited and hopeful about The Facts and Legends of Callie Catwell. An asexual lesbian romance? Seriously, sign me up! I was also excited about her dad being the one who battles an eating disorder.
The story is great, the characters are even greater. The romance is… well, not lacking, because it’s just so damn realistic?
There were parts that I loved but Playing Offside still left a somewhat bitter taste in my mouth.
I absolutely love that Rachel Reid put the issue of famous (sports) persons sexually assaulting other people into one of her books. In my memory there is only one other book doing that as well and interestingly enough it’s also a hockey book.
Seriously. I found it exhausting to read, because everything felt kinda… like there was no spark. Which is especially sad if it’s a story about magic and the Fae.
Their romance is also build on a long-ish friendship if you’re not counting the years they lost sight of each other and I’m a sucker for that.
I absolutely love the anxiety rep in this book but I couldn’t care less for the romance. So where does that leave me?
It’s been a while since I read This Is Not The End but just skimming through the passages I’ve marked… I fell in love again.
And there only is one bed.
Sue me but I like that trope if I am in the mood for a very predictable and sweet story. Throw in some enemies-to-lovers and I’m probably hooked.
One page in and I’m fighting tears. It’s a happy kind of suffering though.