“Fucking Pink Nightie Girl,” he finally concluded. His grin slid off as well as he played place-the-face for a moment. “Fucking Wallbanger,” I hissed, frozen on the spot. Then I saw red as I recognized who belonged to the blue. Tension is at an all time high for Caroline when the lights go out every night-she grits her teeth and ignores it, though-for now. See, this is even more of a problem, because, let’s face it, she hasn’t had an orgasm in forever. Everything is grand until the ‘wallbanging’ starts. So, as you can see, I am a mixed up mess on this particular story.Ĭaroline is a single interior designer, not decorator, don’t get that wrong, who has recently moved into a new apartment owned by her boss. There was a lot of good, though, don’t get me wrong-so much so, that I was smiling like an idiot and clapping my hands together whenever something swoon-worthy would happen-which was a lot. And while I’m still a little giddy about Wallbanger himself, I can’t ignore the fact that there was also a lot that annoyed me as I read. I have had this on my TBR shelf for almost a year, and finally, on one fateful day in Target, I saw it was available in paperback, so I took a chance and bought it. When the opening line is as such, you never really know what to expect for the rest, do you? And so begins this utterly goofy, maddening, and, surprisingly, adorable story.
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