I think someone really wanted to be the next Twilight… didn’t quite do it for me. Nobody hits sloppily written guilty pleasure mode harder than Stephanie Meyer. So, recommended reading here? Not so much. Well, maybe if you’re sixteen and all this drawn out angst is your bag. Maybe then. For me this book is all about the cover… even though it barely has anything to do with the contents. I got suckered in by giganto dress, black lace fingerless gloves, and a crying teenager… Why shouldn’t you?