I read this in one sitting, and when I finished it I felt hallow and sick to my stomach. I wanted to smash my kindle into little tiny pieces. And dramatically sob, "Why, Why?" I was heartbroken, and mad, and everything in between. Fisher didn't just touch a nerve, she took all of them and ripped them out through my spinal column. I want to cry and rant and rave. I want to rage and listen to limp bizkits break stuff, and drink vodka. I don't even drink anymore, but I need one.
Anyway off to read the second book, and then the third. My bank account hates you Ms. Fisher. Remember that. It's looking at you with evil eyes, saying why are you draining me. I am so close to empty, you are slaying me!