I realize that it’s my stupid rich-girl upbringing screwing me over, but I’d still rather buy one tray of high-grade sushi and starve for the rest of the week than eat fourteen 7-Eleven cheese dogs

Overall: not the worst book I've ever read, but it was overwhelmingly boring, with a character whose whininess and self-pity can rival the best (or worst) of Bella Swan, and a love interest that makes me want to run flying into the arms of darling Edward.

It may be surprising, but my main problems with this book isn't even about the fact that the main characters' love interests (yes, plural, there will be a love triangle) are, respectively, someone who is...

...nothing but a drunk sack of dumb

And...

...a murderer [who] spun it around so he was the wounded one.

No, I didn't like this book much because:

1. The boring plot. The murders, the danger, all that's just in the past, and it doesn't even freaking involve her. Instead, in the present we have a main character who spends 90% of the book whining and nothing else

2. The main character is dull as hell. Yeah, I feel bad for her. No, she's not even the worst character in the world, sure, she's wishy washy and stupid sometimes, but hey, teenagers (no offense, remember, I've been there, too!) but man, is she boring to read about

3. The romance. Ok, I said that I wouldn't complain about the romance. I lied. It didn't seriously piss me off, but I had problems with it. Love triangle aside, both love interests are just assholes, and I can't comprehend her interest in them

The writing is good, the instrospection is good, but if I wanted to hear that much whining from a teenager, I'd go plant myself outside of a Forever 21 dressing room.

The Summary: Jane is not actually named Jane. It is the most boring, obvious alias in the world, and her real name is Valentina Cruz. She is currently a starving artist, living in Montréal, Canada, barely making ends meet playing a freaking mandolin (which she doesn't really know how to play) for handouts, and was in fact, homeless, until a rich douchebag of an aspiring artist, Lucien picked her off of her streets to be his muse.

It wasn't always this way. In her old life, not so very long ago, Jane was the beloved daughter of a Miami art collector, a very, very wealthy art collector. She is used to the high life, she is a connoisseur of art, she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and was clandestinely dating the man of her dreams until the man of her dreams became a murderer.

A murderer, who, as it turned out, was working under her father. Her father, who is not an art collector at all but the leader of a drug cartel.

After witnessing darlin' 23-year old Emilio (can you say statutory rape?) splatter a man's brains all over the floor, Jane fled. She originally intended to go to Spain, but only had enough money to go to Montréal. A frozen city, a French-speaking city. Hint: she doesn't speak a fucking word of French.

Enter Lucien and his brother, Marcel. Both wealthy, drug-addled playboys, both entitled bastards who toy with Jane like a cat does a mouse. Then Emilio re-enters the picture.

"Jane" spends her days being a muse, thinking about food because she is constantly hungry, and reminiscing about how sad and pathetic her life currently is.

Will something finally happen before the book makes me fall asleep?

Hint: No.

"Jane":

Leaving Key West with nothing but a stolen mandolin and my passport was stupid. I see that now.

She was born a rich girl, and so that just sets the stage for failure already. Jane doesn't think anything through. She spends the book whining "Oh, I know I should have _________ but instead I'm just going to __________ even if I know I should have done ___________ instead. Sigh. Woe is me.

It gets really fucking old. I might have felt bad for her the first few times around, but come on, enough is enough already.

Some examples:

1. AAAAAHHHH RUN: Ok, she saw dad order her bf to kill a guy. That really sucks, yeah, I get it. But instead of like, panicking and running, why not just hang around for awhile instead of kicking it into high gear and running the fuck away before you get the whole story. At least plan things through. Take a little time and get your shit together instead of going AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH NEED TO GTFO RIGHT NOW. Emilio showed no signs of wanting to kill her. Her dad sure as hell ain't gonna kill her and she knew it. Y SO IMPULSIVE? Sure, running away is probably not the worst idea considering daddy is a murderer, but taking 5 minutes to actually plan shit is probably wise

2. AAAAAHHHH RUN (Part II): Jane had nothing on her when she left. Nothing. Barely enough money for a plane ticket. Barely anything on her. She doesn't know how to fucking plan at all. Jane did well in school, but it's all just book smarts, and not an iota of common sense. Ok, she doesn't have a lot of access to money, um, HELLO, HER DAD IS RICH? Fuck, steal a few fucking silver spoons or something. Raid the jewelry box. Steal shit from her sisters. From what she's been telling us, she wasn't exactly fond, nor did she have the highest opinion of her sister anyway, because apparently one is a boy-crazy spend-a-holic and the other is as dumb as a Kardashian brick. She had jack shit when she ran. From a main character from such a wealthy family, that's just fucking dumb. Daddy gave you credit cards for a reason

3. You murderer! I love you! Again, not the brightest brick in the wall. She ran away because beloved bf is a killer, and now he's back and she's like I LOVE YOU I WILL RUN AWAY WITH YOU <33333 Seriously? Why not just fucking stay in your posh life and not suffer this shit in the first place if you're just gonna be ok with the fact that your bf is a killer if you're not ok with the fact that your dad is a killer, too. But Emilio has suuuuuuuuuch a good heart because he's killing to make money for his family. Um, what do you think your dad is doing?

I mean, if it were me, I'd just stay and pretend to not know what's going on until I could scrounge together enough money to hightail it to another country and erase my identity, if I ran at all.

I failed ethics in college (true story). I got a B the second time around, though.

4. The Bella Swan shit: You know how after Edward leaves, Bella is pretty much comatose, spending her day doing ;_; and nothing else? MEET JANE, BITCHES. Jane does fucking nothing. She can't fucking support herself (cause someone didn't think shit through!), so eeeeeeeeeveryone comes to her rescue because Jane can do jack shit. Sure, she actually kicks a guy in the balls, but that's about all the action that you get out of her.

She's hungry? A kind old man constantly gives her food, and eventually, a job, or else other guys bring her food (sushi! No, really, sushi)

She can't make the rent? It's magically paid for her.

She doesn't have clothes to wear to nice parties? Her typically bitchy rooommates somehow magically turns kind and gives her a fucking awesome dress.

She's homeless? Someone magically appears to rescue her and gives her a job posing as a model.

And no, she never thinks about these things. She spends the entire book reminiscing and feeling sorry for herself. That's it.

The Romance:

His fake Spanish accent makes me want to claw his face, but I don’t want to get close enough for him to grab me again.

Neither of the love interests in this book are anything to be desired. I mean, out of the two, I might even be tempted to pick statutory-rapist murderer over drunken-drug-addled playboy.

Yum.

Emilio may be a murderer, but the alternative doesn't seem very attractive in comparison because, there's no other way to put it, Marcel is a patronizing, condescending asshat. He constantly insults her. He constantly puts her down.

“You’re the one who upset me,” I spit. Suddenly every emotion is funneled into my disgust for Marcel. “You made me sound like a paid escort.”
He snorts. “I’m sorry, you’re not?”

He manipulates her, he goads her.

He snorts, and a wild, cruel look takes over his face. “And what would you do if I dropped it in the pool?”

In the first 60% of the book, there is nary a single moment when I felt anything but utter contempt for that overwhelming thundercunt. He is sexist, he is so my-shit-don't-stink, and he probably thinks it's true, considering the fact that he is going to be the heir to a soap empire. Don't let that fool you. Squeaky clean Marcel ain't.

Every time he opens his mouth.

"You have retail sexpot written all over you.”
I glare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Chill out. It’s a compliment.”

I wanted to kick him in the balls.

All quotes were taken from an uncorrected proof subject to change in the final edition.