Find me on TWITTER
**ARC provided by Netgalley*
A couple of years ago, I used to watch a TV program called GREEK. I don't remember what it's about (a brother and sister go to college and join different houses, or something along those lines). It was cheesy but managed to make it good enough for people to relate to the characters.
caught my attention, I thought it would be something along the lines of GREEK with a hint of mystery.
We're given an MC who is shallow, immature and annoying.
She tries very hard to be the next Nancy Drew
, but failed miserably. Why? Because common sense is non-existent in this book.
I saw it first. I stopped short about six feet from the table, and Lindy did the same seconds later. A chill radiated throughout my body, as she audibly gagged.
Sitting on a round wooden plate was a hand. A human hand.
If you find a rotting, real, human hand in your home, the first thing a normal person would do is call the damn police and inform your fellow sorority sisters/house mates.
You do not put the hand back where you found it and start telling your friends that you think the Execs are part of a devil-worshipping coven.
Why do they not call the police? Because that would be the sensible thing to do.
The dumbass characters in this book think that if they call the police, their hands would be next...
"We need to call the police," I said.
"We should," Lindy nodded.
"But everyone will know we were in the chapter room," Hannah pointed out.
"I don't want to piss off a bunch of girls who keep body parts in their basement."
Then again, Jill and her friends aren't exactly the most intelligent people around. According to this book, if you're caught throwing up, you have an eating disorder:
"Someone was ralphing."
"Gross! Eating disorder?"
"Nerves, I think."
Or if your ponytail is dishevelled, did you know you're having a mental breakdown?
These fives girls, who held our sorority in the palm of their hands, were clearly unravelling. Kayla's poinytail looked like she'd slept on it.
Well, shit. Call an ambulance! The girl is obviously unstable because it's the middle of the night and her hair isn't perfect! Oh, the horror, the true, true horror!
Even after the girls tell the Execs about the hand, and the scary notes and they say they're scared that everybody's lives are in danger, they STILL don't call the police. Instead, they do the one thing that goes against How to Be Rid of Evidence 101.
Around three that morning, the Exec officers finally got rid of the hand by wrapping it in newspaper and tossing it in our dumpster.
None of the characters in this book are likeable, from Jill and the way she just randomly ASSUMES things, to Tad, the love interest. Not to mention the insta-love (considering the book evolves over the course of TWO WEEKS) is thick enough to make you gag. There is absolutely no leading up to the sex -- it just happens and at the most awful time, too. Way to be the insensitive asshole, Jill.
The writing was less than mediocre and there was far too much dialogue for me to really grasp what was going on.
And the end? Way too predictable and it makes no sense. At all. Literally pulled a name out of a hat there.
Safe to say, I'll steer clear from the other books in this series.