Dirty Red by Tarryn Fisher

Ummm...what kind of emotions did this book evoke?

The kind where you book a flight to Seattle in hopes of tracking down the author. You have a legitimate game plan for when you arrive that you probably spent WAY too much time plotting out. 

Once you’ve searched every coffee shop and knocked on every door (and managed not to get arrested for trespassing – YAY!), you finally to spot her in the local grocery store buying a tub of Cherry Garcia (WTF?!?!). You casually walk up to her and unleash a profanity-laced tirade on her west-coast ass!

And once that’s all out of your system, you hug her, beg for her forgiveness for losing your shit, and get her Starbucks.

Once you’ve had a chance to chat with her and miraculously managed to convince her that you are not some lunatic stalker who flew across the country to yell at her, you say your Hail Tarryns. Because this author is the book-god that you have been praying to.

Then you get you’re ass home, because you just realized that you have to start Thief, but you forgot your ereader at home, and it would be just a tad too expensive to buy yet another one.

To quote the ever sublime Beyonce, Bow down bitches because Tarryn Fisher is fucking royalty.