No, just hell fucking no!! ARC to be released 6.23.15

Never Loved - Charlotte Stein

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DNF after Chapter 1. Honestly I don't know how I got that much done.

First off, does Abbi know she is getting referenced to sell this book??? As a huge AG fan I'm rather offended that this was linked in anyway. Nothing about this bullshit reminded me of AG.
Book Blurb:
Perfect for fans of Abbi Glines, the first novel in the Dark Obsession series tells the story of a beautiful wallflower who falls for a chiseled street fighter—and learns just how dangerous love can be.


Elements of a good story:
✔beautiful
✔wallflower
✔chiseled
✔street fighter
✔dark
✔obsession
✔dangerous
✔love

All ✔ed
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Hmmm...... Let's meet this beautiful wallflower, Beatrix.
Setting: Sitting in her car watching a huge street brawl.

I could be more interested in parties and hairstyles and dating, to the point where Sam might actually approve and maybe even remember me. At the moment, that isn’t happening. “Who is this?” “It’s me. It’s your roommate. Your buddy, Beatrix.” “Beatrix wouldn’t call me and ask me something like that. I know this is you, Jason.” In all honesty, I kind of wish I was Jason. Then maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here, trying to convince my only friend in the world that I’m me. Plus, Jason sounds as if he’d know what to do about scary convenience-store guys. He could just crank call them into oblivion, if they put up any trouble. “Honestly, it’s me, Beatrix. That’s why I have a British accent. And sound like a girl.” That seems to click with her, at least. Not by much, but enough. ...“Ew, that sounds gross. Are you doing something gross? You know, I keep saying I’ll set you up with Steven Walker. He only has one tiny eyebrow. The other is completely normal-size, so it’s really not a big deal. Plus, he has—” I have to cut her off before she finishes her sentence. I’m almost ninety-nine percent certain she’s going to tell me he has a massive one, and I’m just not prepared for that right now. I will never be prepared for that. My father pretty much told me penises are a myth, and I need easing in to the idea that they are not. I need small ones to start. Really, really small ones. Or maybe none at all. “Sam, Sam, Sam—I’m not trying to date anyone here.
Excuse me???What the in the holy fuck is this shit???? This is told through the head of this mindless twat. My head hurts and this is seriously only a couple pages in.

Setting: The dumb bitch has gotten her happy ass out of the car and walked into the middle of the brawl. So let's meet the chiseled street fighter, Serge....
He even seems to recognize me on some vague level, light flickering over his dull gaze as he takes in my glasses, my cardigan, my silly corduroy trousers. Of course I immediately wish I’d worn something else, like seventeen suits of armor and maybe a really macho hat.
Yes, a really macho hat would totally help you out.
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It’s probably why they’re all sort of starting to laugh. They’re glancing at my arms and wondering why they look like limp noodles—or maybe it’s my gigantic ass that’s got them smirking. I can’t quite tell because I don’t really dare look at any of them directly, and after a moment, it doesn’t really matter anyway. They all turn back to whatever they were doing, once they realize I’m not worth their time.
Of fucking course, the convenient store gang-banger thugs are totally wondering why you have limp noodle arms and a big fat ass.
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He’s also wearing this weird overall thing of the kind you usually see on men who work in sewers—though I don’t think the outfit has anything to do with his profession. I’m fairly sure you’re not allowed to tromp around underground with both sleeves hacked off your uniform and all the buttons undone right down to the waist, and if you are, someone should make it illegal right now.
Ok, really, yes, worry about what the big scary ass mother fucker in front of you is wearing, not that he about just killed a man in front of you.

And yet I can’t seem to say a word. If I do, I will say all the wrong ones. He will hear my dad in them, blaming him for all the world’s ills and accusing him of turning his daughter into a whore. Or maybe my accent will leak out due to nerves, and get me the uncomfortable attention it always does.
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“He might be in the middle of a crack den, but you’re just gonna walk right up like you did here, and knock on a door that probably isn’t there.”...“I tell you what, girl. How about you hop on, and I’ll take you to where he is.”
“I can’t do that.” In fact, it’s so disappointing that he seems to catch some of it. He snorts of course, as though he expected that answer all along.

He Snorts. Seriously, WTF?!?!?!?
Yet beneath that snort I think I see something else, just sort of drifting around down there. A bitterness, I think, that carries through his otherwise amused and rather withering words.
“Afraid of bikes, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“And maybe afraid of me?”
“I’d have to be insane to be anything else.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” “Think it’s pretty obvious.”
“Try me.”
“Mostly it’s the size.” He makes a face like yeah, that makes sense. But the shadow of that odd disappointment is still there.
“What can I say? I’m a big guy.”
“And maybe the tattoos.”
“I sure got them.”
“And the hair.”
“You don’t like it?”
Dear God, I think he might be handsome, though I’m not going to stick around long enough to find out for sure.

Why, oh why do I find this conversation beyond absurd in the middle of a massive street fight????

Oh, look more logical thoughts...

Idiot Student Finds Angry Biker Handsome,...
That doesn’t even make any sense. People don’t write reports about girls randomly noticing attractiveness. They write reports about girls being murdered, so really, that should be my headline. Idiot Student Has Arms and Legs Pulled Off by Handsome Biker,...


And chapter one ends with
as everyone around him returns to their rowdy and brutal ballet.

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I just can't finish this. I just can't.





*ARC provided by Netgalley in exchange for honest opinion*