So, after a weekend spent throwing up and watching more bad movies because I can't leave the house, feeling guilty because it was my mother's birthday and we didn't go down to the hospital to see her, and not cleaning like I usually do, I managed to accomplish one thing: I read another chicklit book, Party Girl by Sarah Mason. Yes, that Sarah Mason, author of Society Girls. She does like to use the word 'girl' in a title, that's for sure.
The book centres around party planner whose childhood sweetheart was actually an awful bully (with a heart of gold, of course). She ends up having to plan a giant fete for said fellow and his family, which ends up exactly as you'd expect: with the two leads in the closet making out. Ah, British chicklit, you never tax me nor make me frustrated with plot holes and other annoying things about these kinds of novels.
I should really only count these books as .5 and not a full whole.
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