She could not stop reading.
Without a doubt, it was the worst book she had ever read. Its characters were stupid and juvenile in their execution. The sentence structure and wording bore all the refinement of crude oil: black, monotonous, and stinky. An erotic novel of pervasive popularity, yet containing not a single line that brought her carnal pleasure. Rather than forge a white hot yearning in her loins that was the author’s overtly obvious intent, it only forged a white hot rage that sat heavily within her entire being.
