Made the mistake of reading this in book form rather than on kindle. This allowed Himself to see what trivial crap I fill my mind with at bedtime. I think I lost some respect. But hey. People are people and stories are stories, even if the protagonists are undead. And while Himself is laughing at me for reading about myths, he isn't noticing that it's really a straight romance novel. If he knew that he'd really lose respect for me...
It was as hot as the six shades of hell even this late in the evening, and I'd had a busy day at work.
That was going to be a delicate conversation. 'Sure Sam', I said, very quietly. 'Another day'.
The plot? Everyone is in love with the heroine, she dithers. Isn't that the plot of all romances?
Note: there are a dozen or so books in this series. I reckon I've read about half of them, in no particular order. Continuity isn't necessary. Neither are your critical faculties.