I figured I would give chick-lit another try, but it seems like the plain truth is that I just don’t like it. All the books are the same and have absolutely no substance to them at all.

Angela DiFranco is 31 and dying to get married. Her coworker, Michelle believes that men are like a jar of pickles. Someone has to come along first and loosen the lid before you can get in there and pop it open. Michelle devises a number of different ways to make Angie’s boyfriend Kirk pop wide open. Of course he does, but he doesn’t love her as much as he should.

This book was boring and predictable.

I’m so finished with chick-lit this time. I mean it.