First of all, please don’t think I picked this book up because of the Oprah endorsement. I’m made of meatier things than can be swayed by an Empress. But when it comes to Viggo Mortensen, I’m JELLY. It might have something to do with his hair/face/body. Anyhoo, I remember seeing the cover of the book whilst shelving at the unnamed bookstore I worked for and thinking, “Oh, Viggo, when will we stop playing these games?” At around the same time my brother saw No Country for Old Men and was all, “I’m scared to sleep alone.” That movie being based on a McCarthy book paired with Viggo on the cover of THIS book slayed me. So I began the reading.
And let me tell you. It is not a happy read. Clinically depressed people and people prone to over-sympathizing, stay away. You will not have a happy thought for days. Not exaggerating.

On the night of her 30th birthday, Rachel allows herself to sleep with the man she has desired all throughout law school. And it was great. Dexter Thatcher is great, the sex was great, and she feels great. That is until she wakes the following morning with a slight hangover and her absolute best friend’s fiancé in her bed. That’s right, folks. Dex is none other than Darcy’s long time boyfriend and recent fiancé. In fact, Rachel was the one who introduced the two. Bitch, right?