Rating: 5/5 stars
You know the unbelievably comfortable pair of slippers your best friend’s grandmother specifically hand-made for you, the ones you slip on the moment you get home? What about that ugly sweater you own that has stains and holes, and even with ten perfectly folded ones beside it, it’s still the one you look for?
That’s what it feels like when reading the very first sentence of a Colleen Hoover novel. Like you’re home, slipping on your favorite pair of pajamas. Like you’re not going anywhere, mentally or physically, until you’ve run out of pages to read. Like Hoover’s writing is as familiar to you as your favorite pair of hideous socks.
Wait, is that a terrible analogy? I blame the euphoria from completing this amazing book.
“My husband’s heart is my saving grace, but his physical touch has become my enemy.”
All Your Perfects demands your attention from the first to last page. It breaks you apart and heals you repeatedly with chapters alternating between then and now. I cried only to have my tears followed by laughter and so on until I ran out of pages. I won’t type a summary in my own words. I won’t tell you anything that could potentially ruin this book for you. But I will tell you to read it. And read it slow, because the pages are limited.
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