What a fucking catastrophe.Brian is a passive-aggressive twatwaffle living in abject denial of a helpless and totally doomed love for his stepbrother Varro, who races motorcycles, falls off things, and fucks ladyparts a lot.Then, in this order: - they pretend not to want each other for a bit;- argue about things that have nothing to do with why they are upset;- separate for a year over an aggravating failure to speak English at a critical juncture;- reunite on some random-assed pretext;- make various dramatic announcements;- rut like animals;- obtain a german shepherd;- get married.In between, there are irritating artifacts of bad writez, like the simply appalling existence of the words "fluttering" and "hole" right there on your screen, right next to one another, which for some reason puts me in mind of linen window treatments, farting, and raw veal cutlets.So, um, a not entirely successful turn of phrase, then.Also the obligatory Mary Calmes Proclamation of Claiming, where Varro informs Brian that he is "mine" three times on one page—and then the disemboweling begins.Wherein these two assholes talk the entire goddamned time.Even when Varro folds Brian in half like a bulky coat and proceeds to fuck his guts out?Which is way hot, you know, like Mary Calmes smexcapades are always hot, on account of her being quite accomplished in the Smutty Arts and utterly fearless of afflicting her bottom characters with rectal prolapse at every opportunity.So I make myself comfortable and grab my dick and commit the Sin of Onan with relish, having myself a grand ol' time right up until Varro says these words: “I like your guttural purr."...aaaaaaand I'm done, dude—my previously proud cock in priapic collapse—and all at once I'm, like, utterly finished with this batshit cray-cray Comprehensively Vexing List of Idiotic Things Nobody Has Ever Said Out Loud, Ever.The amount of inane dialogical flatulence in this book is simply outrageous, and fucked if I know how anyone can claim to have edited it at all if it arrives on my reader so generously garnished with literary cat poo.It was half-assed, annoying, insubstantial, sloppy, and—worst of all—imbued with a truly staggering amount of cataclysmic silliness.I am livid.***There's Something About Mary.mary calmes is not bad-bad. she's quite good. and when she's bad, she's good-bad.you look at my list of complaints and—i'm telling you—it's like someone else's m/m shopping list.i will love her until i die.[b:A Matter of Time|7090484|A Matter of Time (#1)|Mary Calmes|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1257198839s/7090484.jpg|7346614] was where i felt she was at the height of her powers.be sure to play emma's Mary Calmes Drinking Game.it will fuck you up, but you'll be posting legendary status updates the entire time, and everyone will give you secret nods of acknowledgement on the subway.