Book Thirtyeight: Dead Until Dark

Dead Until Dark, Charlaine Harris

Ugh, ugh, and ugh. You know how the Twilight books are bad, but bad in the most wonderfully entertaining way? Well, this book is just plain bad. Nothing entertaining about it. In fact, the writing is downright dull. I think from now on I will just stick to watching True Blood. As bad as that is, at least it allows me to moon over Alexander Skarsgård.


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