The Vincent Boys

(Review originally posted here at The Book Barbies.)

Oh, where to even start with this book?

If I read past the first 5 pages of a book, it is extremely unlikely that I will DNF it. I am eternally hopeful that things will improve. But I can 100% guarantee that I would have set this one down 80 pages in. I came this close to doing so, and the only thing that kept me going was that I was reading it for the Spring into Summer readalong. So I pushed through.

It didn't get better. In fact, it just kept getting worse. The writing was stilted and repetitive through the entire book. There was very little chemistry between the leads. I did not like a single one of the characters, even the minor ones.

First, there's Ashton. Ashton used to be a secret Bad Girl. She would sneak out at night and do bad things like stuffing frogs into mailboxes with Beau. But then Sawyer asked her out, and she became a Good Girl, squishing those Bad Girl urges down, down, down. Somehow, this means that Beau is the only one who knows that side of her (even though Sawyer used to be the one who bailed them out of trouble, which implies that both Sawyer and all the people who had ever caught her knew she had a Bad Side). Ashton is an idiot, basically. She wallows in her misery and vacillates and whines until she finally makes a the inevitable choice.

And then we have Beau, the Bad Boy with anger issues. Beau has “loved” (or obsessively fixated on, take your pick) Ashton for years, which is apparently his only redeeming quality. Beau is, somehow, the object of many girl's swoonage, and swoon away, if that's your taste. I just don't get it. I like Alphas. I do. I love it when fictional men are big and strong and have sexy, possessive growls and don't like the heroines hanging out with their attractive exes. But there's a line, and Beau was WAY on the other side of it.

I want to rip his damn arms off his body, Ash. Sawyer, who I'd do anything for. I want to hurt him. If he touches you again in front of me, I'm going to crack. I can't take this. ... Just try not to let him touch you. When he touches you, I see red. I can't take it. I don't want to see him or anyone else touch you. ... Staying with him. Letting him touch you, hold you, God. It's eating me alive.

Spirit girls were girls the cheerleaders added to their numbers so every football player would have a girl to make him goodies on game day. Off the record, spirit girls also happened to help their players with their homework, order pizzas to be delivered to the school for their lunches, and do some unofficial things like back massages and other “hands-on” activities. The starters always picked their spirit girl first, then the rest of the players' names went into a hat and the spirit girls drew them.

messed up