I like fluff books.

But this one was just taken too far. There is no real plot. Rebecca Bloomwood is a self absorbed weak excuse for a woman. She can’t think of ANYTHING except shopping. Honest to goodness, she can’t go more than 10 minutes without thinking of herself. As a result, she doesn’t have any friends (unless you can count her flatmate Suzy – someone she couldn’t care less about) not that she cares – friends would distract her from shopping.

The novel didn’t even reach a turning point until around page 220, which is more than two-thirds of the way through the book. The previous pages were merely spent going on and on about how much Rebecca loved shopping.

Dear Lord – there are people who actually like THIS fluff? At least fluffy romance novels have ROMANCE in them and GOOD THINGS happening in them. For this novel, we have to spend its entirety feeling horrible for poor Becky Bloomwood, save for the last 50 pages where things just FALL IN HER LAP.

This novel disgusted me. I’m going to have to choose deeper fluff from now on if I want to give my mind something fun to read.