There are books, authors, series, and even whole genres that I just can not, no matter how many times I give them a whirl, find interesting. Last year one of my book clubs read A Gentleman in Moscow and everyone but me adored it. I was so bored, I quit at the 500 page mark, miffed I’d wasted precious reading time on such a twee tale. Several friends of mine feel the best book they ever read–EVER!–is A Man Called Ove. I’ve tried to read it three times and every time just… can’t… do… it. That guy is waaaaaay too cranky for me.

So, despite my propensity to love romance novels, there are those that aren’t for me. Shifter stories don’t call to me–I’m always overcome with practical concerns about clothing, food sources, and DNA. I find the appeal of Kristen Ashley’s books somewhat mystifying. I find her heroes to be–in the three books I’ve managed to finish, misogynistic jerks whose manipulative techniques creep me out–and every single one of her heroines seems to live to be called babySugar Daddy and Blue-Eyed Devil, two of the books in Lisa Kleypas’ Travises series, regularly show up on top lists in romance and I found them both a bit of a slog.

My responses to these books are mine and as such they’re not right/wrong/stupid/mean/clueless (no matter what you shifter fans think!). Books, just like people, work for some and not for others and that’s just fine. (So please no scolding readers for their lack of love.)

How ’bout you? What book do you not understand the love for? Are there series or genres that get a hard pass from you? If so, why?

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Impenitent social media enthusiast. Relational trend spotter. Enjoys both carpe diem and the fish of the day.