Despite this, I remain an avid reader of romance novels, much like a cinephile who appreciates a well-crafted film, even if it doesn’t strike a personal chord. I can acknowledge the artistry—the direction, the cinematography, the performances—without feeling a deep connection.
However, once in a blue moon, a book emerges that transcends my usual reservations.
A book like "A shore thing" by Joanna Lowell, impeccably crafted, as if tailored for my own soul.
A testament to the power of storytelling: fun, engaging, where all the feelings and spoken words felt real.
A world so vivid, that I couldn't help but deeply adore *every* *single* *character*.
All relatable, three-dimensional, imperfect.
Including, clearly, the protagonists.
Kit is the epitome of dashing charm, his every word and action leaving me breathless.
Witty, daring, attentive.
Freedom and coherence.
And Muriel.
Bold, generous, intelligent, brave, tenacious.
Both accepting, understanding, never trying to change the partner. As to say. "This is me, if you decide to love me. I won't compromise."
I know.
Falling in love with a story is a subjective, almost whimsical experience, where "perfection" is not an objective measure but a personal revelation.
But, for me, this book is pure, quintessential romance.
Selfless, honest, raw.
