Beautiful Disaster: Jamie McGuire (BEAUTIFUL SERIES)

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Unlike other readers, I will say I didn't have a problem with the story of a dysfunctional relationship per se. There's always an intangible factor as to why two people are drawn to one another, and I am willing to give credit that for whatever reason, each of these two sparked something in the other, though I fully concede that the author does not shed any light on why. Others had problem with the blatant messages of violence being sexy, women who have sex outside of relationships as being sluts or otherwise deserving to be treated poorly and, because it bears repeating, violence being sexy. Silly, lightweight books, the rom-coms of the publishing world, are filled with bad messages. I wouldn't want any of the teenagers in my life to read this [NOTE: I'm still not sure if it's supposed to be a YA book or not - to be fair the author says it's not, but if it's not I'm not sure who the target audience would be], but I can't act like it's the only book out there that sends a bad message. And as a fully grown adult sometimes I look for books in which I can escape into a fantasy of love. I was coerced into coming here. It didn’t occur to me to impress you,” I said, irritated that my plan had failed. America pulled the gum from her mouth in a long string. “You’re only making it worse by brushing him off. He’s not used to that.” Be part of our book reading community with BBS yearly & LRQ quarterly reading challenges, SRx1x3x3 monthly group reads & #ShhPolls. Chat books in Shhare Books, post & find Book Dealz & get your game on in our PLA⚔️ROOM. Plus, follow us on social media where we feature #ShhQuote, #ShhaStagram & Fun facts.

Travis leaned on the table with his elbows, his brown eyes fixated on mine. “So what’s your story, Pidge? Are you a man-hater in general, or do you just hate me?” Yeah, if we were on the autobahn!” I said, pulling out my bun to separate the rats with my fingers. My frown involuntarily smoothed and I sighed. “I didn’t say you’re a bad person. I just don’t like being a foregone conclusion for the sole reason of having a vagina.” I focused on the grains of salt on the table until I heard a choking noise from Travis’s direction.Unnecessary, but appreciated,” I said. I tried to reassure Shepley with a smile, but his pessimism was driven by years of being burned by Travis’s endeavors. I looked down to my plate, letting the long strands of my caramel hair create a curtain between us. I didn’t like the way it made me feel when he was so close. I didn’t want to be like the scores of other girls at Eastern that blushed in his presence. I didn’t want him to affect me in that way at all. America rolled down her window and spit out her gum. “You’re so obvious. Why didn’t you just roll in dog shit to make your outfit complete?” Keep your cash in your wallet, Abby!” America called to me. Her broad smile gleamed even in the dim light.

I am a 21 year old male who sees my local Barnes and Noble as my favorite store in existence. For, I'd say 13 or so years, my library has consisted of a plethora of YA fiction, mostly in the vein of Potter, Twilight and so on. Every so often, in the last few months, more specifically, I would find myself hurtling down the adult fiction section, spurred by my urge to read an "adult novel" both to expand my literary journey and to make my 23 year old sister stop her "you only read kids books" mantra, I understand it's a joke and there is nothing wrong with reading them at any age, but it still hurt. I firstly found A Discovery of Witches, by Debora Harkness, Angelolgy by Danielle Trusonni and The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, all excellent novels. After finishing those three within a few months my hunger for more seemed to be unable to be satiated. So I found myself at the new fiction table where I discovered, Beautiful Disaster.This brilliant and beautifully written story had a little bit of everything: coming of age, second chances, age gap between H/h, and romantic suspense. Told in Laura Spinella's eloquent style of third person point of view, this author toggles us between the past and present of Flynn and Mia - a rare couple with a connection so deep its as soul-shattering lovely as it is devastatingly haunting. Beautiful Disaster': Dylan Sprouse rom-com gets trailer ahead of Hulu release - UPI.com". UPI . Retrieved August 5, 2023.

Travis’s eyes didn’t stray from mine. “It’s a damn shame about the sweater. It looks good on you.” In the next moment he was engulfed by fans, disappearing the way he came. What are they laughing about?” I asked, gesturing to the rowdy table. He shook his head, clearly not wanting to share. I crossed my arms and squirmed in my seat, nervous about what they were saying that caused him so much aggravation. “Tell me.” America grabbed her roll and threw it down the table, narrowly missing the girl’s face. Before the girl could say another word, Travis let his knees give way, sending her tumbling to the floor. Shotwell, Alyssa (October 26, 2021). "Racist Author Jamie McGuire Dragged Again Upon News of Romance Book Adaptation". The Mary Sue . Retrieved November 1, 2021. The hell if I’m not. I usually sit up there,” he said, nodding to the top row. A small group of girls was staring at me, and I noticed an empty chair in the center.Mia goes on to marry and is on the verge of realizing her eco-friendly dream when her best friend, Roxanne, calls her to tell her that her lost love has been in a motorcycle accident that he might not survive and is at the hospital where she works in the trauma unit. Mia rushes to the hospital and keeps vigil over Flynn in the hopes that he will recover. Since junior year,” she answered, pressing her lips together as she smiled in my direction. “Don’t you remember, Travis? You ruined her sweater.” When Ghost Gifts was published, I never thought I’d write about ghosts again. One and done, as they say. I rounded the corner to see America standing with Finch outside our dormitory. The three of us ended up at the same table at freshman orientation, and I knew he would be the welcome third wheel to our well-oiled machine. He wasn’t excessively tall, but still he towered over my five feet four inches. His round eyes offset his long, lean features, and his bleached hair was usually fashioned into a spike at the front. I don’t need your help. I can write a paper.” I wanted to leave it at that. I should have left it at that, but this new side of him he’d revealed gnawed at my curiosity. “You can’t find something else to do for a living? Less—I don’t know—sadistic?”