I have a love/hate relationship with books sometimes. I tend to fall in love with the characters. Imaginary men who suck me in. Imaginary women who piss me off… or not. Characters I can relate to. Love stories I can’t resist. If it’s a series, I get tangled all up in it and can’t seem to get out. For a few years Kate was telling me about this series she was reading. She knows me pretty well and thought I’d like them. Said they were funny. I avoided and avoided. Didn’t really sound like me. This last week I’ve done hardly anything but read. 18 books in 5 days. Some on my kindle to have them instantly, some paper, some hard cover, some my moms, some borrowed from the library. I got bloody well sucked right in. Sometimes this is why I avoid. I know me. I stayed away from twilight for a long time. Didn’t read the hunger games for fear.. There were 4 harry potter books out before I started. I’m anxious for the next part of Deborah Harkness’ series.
Series that are finished are better. The end is in sight. You are limited and the author will hopefully tie up the loose ends.
What happened was my mom was at work and the girls were giggling about this series. She knows the author but didn’t care for her other books. The girls were really laughing so hey, she could use some funny.. I watched her go through them voraciously, like she does. I’ve never met anyone who reads like my mother. The speed in which she goes though books is like light speed. She doesn’t usually stay up all night like I do either. She doesn’t need to. She blasted through it and she laughed until she had tears.
What could I do.. I caved..
Kate was right. They were funny. How many times I could hardly believe what this chick went through, did… the visuals the author gave were fabulous. I could see in my mind the mischief and mayhem. I could hear the voices in my mind. I laughed. I grumbled. I was startled. I was tantalized and turned on. Oh so painfully at times. J I was gob smacked. Car after car was destroyed caught on fire or blew up. And slowly over time, book after book.. I saw.. for me.. the real love story. Not the sex for sex sake. Not the ‘change to suit me or we will fight all the f-ing time’ tension. I saw the evolution of a real bond. A ‘take a bullet for you no questions asked’ commitment. A ‘you are perfect just as you are and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe while you are doing it’ relationship.
And then, chapter six of book eighteen, I cried for the first time. I couldn’t keep it in. I went downstairs where there were no children and I bawled. I stomped my feet and raged. Over a book. Over people who didn’t exist. Out of pain for a man who was not real, but fiction. A few more chapters later I felt better. I had more details and came to a see how he liked the mark he’d left on her. His mark, as he put it. Now if only she could see… and be strong
But what will the author do? This has been a long drawn out love affair. It’s spanned 18 years. I know what I want to happen.
Do you know this series? Give you a hint..
Team Ranger to the end…