This Just Can’t Be Summer Love

I’m not someone who yearns for a stereotypical beach read only at the beach or only during the summer. In fact, I could devour beach reads/chick lit/intriguing female writing any time of year. But when the temps start rising outside, there’s no reason why they can’t start rising in my books too, so when Reese Witherspoon’s book club announced a “sexy-as-hell” novel for June, I immediately requested it.

Don’t get me wrong; Seven Days in June is sexy. I read parts of it on an airplane and initially tried to hide my Kindle from my aislemates because of some racy scenes. However, it wasn’t as sexy as I anticipated, nor was the sexiness its best part. On the contrary, the book’s mother-daughter relationship endeared me and intrigued me nearly as much if not more than the main romantic relationship.

This was a welcome surprise; not because chick lit doesn’t have depth, but because you expect the racy scenes to reign supreme. In doing so, Tia Williams proved that there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to the genre. I’ve only been saying it for, um, forever.

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