Hello! Welcome back to another moment in which I ramble. And consider (and weep a little over) the inaccuracy I believe my favorite genre to possess. What? New adult novels have the key to my heart and I don’t think they’re giving it back anytime soon. I mean, let’s just ask Tarryn Fisher or Colleen Hoover what they think. I mean, I know their broken and beautiful characters have tight reigns on it. *heart beats furiously*
As you may have guessed by the lengthy title of this post, I will, in fact, be talking about the things I do not think will happen to me like they did in the new adult book that I have read this year.
This is a good and a horrible thing.
Good and bad, you say. Why, yes. Yes, I do say.
Dearest Clementine by Lex Martin: In college, for some bizarre reason, I just really don’t think I’m going to fall for the super hot RA. And I doubt if there is one the attraction will be mutual. BUUUT. Who knows, maybe a jinxed it. *crosses fingers* I totally just jinxed fate, didn’t I?
The Truth About Jack by Jodi Gehrman: Doubt I’ll be throwing a message in a bottle into the blue abyss. And if I do, it’s more likely it be picked up by a dolphin or a creepy old fisherman than a cute, rich boy. Maybe the fisherman is cute. Oh, a girl can hope. But no message in the ocean. That’s called littering, folks. Even if the result does sound mighty romantic.
Scoring Wilder by R. S. Grey: HOT SOCCER COACH? Doll, you are absolutely HALARIOUS! I don’t play soccer.
Vain by Fisher Amelie: I don’t do larger-than-life insects. Those thing are nasty. Gross. So, sadly, not going to Africa after my vanity meets a new extreme and not going to fall for the swoon-worthy, mega sweet and caring native I meet there. *le sigh* Those bugs though.
Wild on You by Tina Wainscott: Well. I hope I’m not trapped in some kill the humans’ operation because I stuck my meddling, animal-activist nose a little too deep into an operation. But, I honestly can’t promise that. Sorry, babe. Get out of jail free car?
Moonshine by Tess Oliver: I don’t know about you, but I won’t be putting a python around my neck or doing badass, death-defying motorcycle stunts any time soon. I prefer to have no flames on my body and my feet safely planted into the dirt. I also won’t be bootlegging. There’s no need for that these days.
Adrain Lessons by L. A. Rose: HAHAH. You think I’m gonna say I won’t be writing sex scenes. Oh, no. That’s not what I was about to say. If I write sex scenes (HUGE IF) it won’t be for my friend’s book. Oh, no, honey. You’re going to write them yourself. I’ll even recommend a few books to help you along. Hey! Maybe I’ll even help you out like Cleo’s oh-so-lovely friend did. *chuckles evilly*
Mud Vein by Tarryn Fisher: I’m not getting stuck in a house with my soul mate by some psycho. Oh, hell no. That does not fly with me. Of course, Senna doesn’t think she will either. *sobs*
After the Rain by Renee Carlino: Sadly, don’t think I’ll be falling for a top-of-his-class surgeon (I’m mean honestly, that so sad. That’s reliable income right there) and I don’t think I’ll be anyone’s saving grace anytime soon. And if I am, that’s sweet. But you need to re-evaluate your priorities.