The Diary is another book I read just because it was sitting in the bedroom and meant I did not have to get up and go find a book in the dark office.
OK I also read it because TW read it the day before and went on and on about how good it was.
Well, it was ok but I wouldn’t rave about how good it was – even if I hadn’t been reading it when I punctured my foot on a ruler. It’s chick lit. It’s also very Nicholas Sparks-like, which probably means a lot of people would rave about how good it is.
I’m not one of those people.
Quick. Nice. Mushy love story. Done.