“You had your turn, and now I want mine.” I move my hand inside his underwear, wrapping it around him. “I want the world’s greatest tour of Will Baxter.”

Welcome to another sexy book in the midsts of nowhere.

Will tilts his head back, and I move my tongue along the ridge of his pelvis. He sucks in a sharp breath and clasps my wrist. “Bedroom.”
I disagree. I have my own ideas that involve Will coming apart in my palm right now, so I keep going. Will puts his hands on his head, and just as his stomach muscles tighten in a way that tells me I’m about to get what I want, he hoists me right off the ground, and I have no choice but to hold on to his neck.

Very hot.

Back to the book. After having read Book Lovers by Emily Henry, I decided to give this one a go, since I was in the mood for some romance. Unfortunately the book in large parts fell flat, but it did feature some steamy scenes to make the boredom worth it.

Two people meet ten years after a ghosting. They had been together in college and then they drifted apart and then stopped talking. They meet again at the lake (roll credits), where he was hired to assist with a failing business her mother used to run before she died. She wants to save the business so she’s ready to make amends with the one that broke her heart.

Both are now older, wiser and slightly more worn down for the wear, but ready to be mature and work together for a greater good.

I didn’t like the female protagonist and I barely liked the male lead.

“She says my desire to draw in boxes and paint on walls lays bare my inner rigidity, and that I have a ruinous case of perfectionism that has no place in the heart of an artist.”

Dialogue was weak.

Will pulled out a tin of lemon hard candies from his backpack, offering them to me.
“No thanks. For the record, I’m twenty-two, not eighty-two.”
Will put one in his mouth and I watched his cheeks hollow around it. “For the record, I am eighty-two,” he said. “I may look twenty-two, but that’s just diet and exercise.”

There was a sub-plot where she finds her mother’s diary and reads about an idealistic woman, full of life and love, dedicated to making her resort a hit. Unfortunately, even now, the daughter fails to connect with her mother – as this young woman depicted in the pages was not the same woman she grew up with, and the journals go to an old flame of her mother’s.

The duo romance is underwhelming and when this book was done and dusted, I couldn’t even remember the main heroine’s name. Bummer.