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Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead
Brené Brown, Karen White
Blue Lily, Lily Blue
Maggie Stiefvater
Neil Patrick Harris: Choose Your Own Autobiography
Neil Patrick Harris
Last of the Curlews
Fred Bodsworth, T.M. Shortt
Recovering for Psychological Injuries 2nd Edition 0941916510
William A. Barton Arnett J. Holloway
Garner on Language & Writing
Bryan A. Garner
Devil of the Highlands - Lynsay Sands Wherein we learn, ladies, that it’s not such a bad thing if our fellas don’t talk to us, as long as they buy us stuff. Wherein, likewise, the fellas learn that it is their duty to talk – talk, or the people you love will die!! And, as usual, everyone lives happily until the next time their clothes accidentally fall off in public. (such a nuisance!)

People have basically said all there is to say about this book, so I won’t keep you for very long. The accidental-nipple-in-the-mouth part was the best part, no doubt. Because who can’t identify with the idea of having a stray nipple wander into somebody’s mouth? My nipples are always wandering off somewhere, forgetting to call when they stay out past curfew. Believe me, I counted myself lucky when they made it through high school without winding up on a milk carton. And it’s kinda nice in the book how whatserface’s nipples were pointing in the right direction – no need for a dreary love triangle. I can get behind that.

But, it’s also true what you hear about the rest of the book being pretty blah. The resolution of the mystery was about as tame as you could possibly have made it. Definitely the most boring option. No real character development happens throughout (other than above-noted talk/not-talk conflict). Everyone basically stays the same, and the hijinks stop after about page 100. Also, “apex of her thighs” . . . I know we’re running out of descriptors in this day and age, but really? That is a linguistically bankrupt moment in literature.

The nice thing about the nipple business was that it had a recognition of how silly these sexy books are. And there’s a sort of appreciation of the funniness of bodies that is cool - and there was a literally ripped bodice, which is funny-ish. But, seriously, if you can’t tell your nipples are in some dude’s mouth, you need to get tested for a nerve disorder. I am concerned for this girl’s health. Milk cartons aside, that’s the kind of thing you think you’d notice.

Anyway, I basically agree with Ms. Sands' premise that it’s nice when guys do nice things, but it’s also nice when they talk. I can get behind that. It’s probably why so many men are just devouring this book – men love to read books that give helpful tips about relationships. Fact.

What? No, you’re saying? It’s just us girls over here bitching about how dudes only want to talk about superficial stuff? Aw, man! Well, I guess that’s cool, too. And also, ladies, be us not daft, and let us remember our own lesson of contentment: as long as those men remember to bring us our gowns and our jewels and our damn tapestries – oh, and remember not to kilt people for us (also learned from book) - we shall be good little wives.

Final note: bodices are fine, but I wanted a kilt to literally rip. I know the benefit of the kilt is the easy access, but, still, major disappointment.