I hate this book.  I really, really hate this book.  I hate this book so much that I happily ignored it last week, making excuses about being ‘too busy.’  (I was busy, but not ‘too’ busy.) I’ve hated the other books on this blog.  That’s kind of the point.  Thing is, I like hating stuff. …

I didn’t think I’d sleep. I figured I’d lay there and miss home and think about the bizarre twist my life had taken. So, yeah, this book runs on the rule of “whatever creates the most drama in this scene, regardless of past scenes.”  I mean, it’s not like Zoey ran away from home while…

So, Zoey’s new friends all talk about how Aphrodite and her group are all such meany-heads who no one likes, and yet are somehow inexplicably ‘popular.’  This book, like so many others, doesn’t realize that ‘popular’ means people fucking like you.  Or, at the least, want to know about you and meet you.  Somehow, because…

A lovely reader helped me out yesterday by informing me that there really is a Cascia Hall (the school that the vampyres bought the building from).  And, while one could call that building French Norman, it’s still not neo-anything, nor is it castle-like.  At best, it looks like a manor.  Which is not the same…

I was absolutely, totally not thinking about the disturbing scene I’d accidentally witnessed. I was forgetting it—on purpose. The last thing I needed was to have more to deal with than a new life and a weird Mark. So, blow job—forgotten. Zoey forgets things by telling us about them.  Interesting tactic, Zoey. Neferet takes Zoey…