You know that feeling that whatever you pick up is just: HO HUM….
I got that right after I finished the fifth Fever novel:
It was so addicting, despite the fact that I did ultimately have problems with the series. But the unfortunate thing is that afterwards: I started a book, got a few pages in, and dropped it like yesterday’s news. I did this over and over. I stared at the bookshelves. Picked up books. Looked at them. Put them back. Got out my kindle. Turned it on. Looked at all the books I thought I might enjoy. Turned the damn thing off.
Eventually what happened is I forced myself to read and ended up one starring that book because it was so…blah. I wasn’t in the mood and the only thing I could do was pick at all the inconsistencies. That’s what you do when you’re a reviewer and you’re fucking bored out of your skull: you make fun and point at all the idiotic characters actions. Then, you whine and bitch about it in your review. THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED.
Just bitch bitch bitch, that’s all I could do.
Now I’m reading a book I’m really into, but I still feel like I want another Fever book. I don’t really want to read Iced because it’s supposed to be “the turtle and the hare” type of boring and awful in many other ways. But I suppose I’ll have to read it if I want to read Burned. By the by: what in the world is that romance cover they got for the novel? It’s awful. WUT. It’s got some greasy guy with smoke effects in the background. This really should have been handed out to J.R. Ward instead of Moning. No. I can’t even look at that cover. I will spare you the horror and not show you the cover. I’m kind aren’t I?
That is what happens when I get in a book slump. I deny. I bitch. I go into in boss mode and one star everything. And only once I’ve gotten that out of my system, can I enjoy a book. It doesn’t matter how good the novel is, sometimes I just need to complain before I enjoy the book.