Frankly, I thought it could have had a bigger part in this story, and that Cole, in real life, would not be so lackadaisical about the subject. I remember all these years later my personal anger, hurt and betrayal when it happened to me. Having been forced out of the military myself for my “homosexual tendencies” I particularly looked forward to how that whole piece would play into the story. I was extremely disappointed with the book for other reasons as well. To be clear, one character telling the story with “I” and the other character’s storylines being addressed as “Cole” didn’t work for me. But in this one, it seemed like Mark’s story was told in in first person and Cole’s was told in third person. I have no issue with books that are written with two main characters having different chapters, or even sub-chapters in their own point of view. For example the constant changes in the point of view.
There were some technical issues which seemed to me to not work as well as she hoped. I’ve enjoyed all the other books by her that I’ve read, but something left me flat this time with this one. In fact I would say it is my least favorite. I have to start this review by saying that this isn’t my favorite Cat Grant book. But if they can’t conquer their fears – Cole’s fear of coming out, Marc’s fear of being abandoned – love might not be enough to save them. With Marc’s help, Cole seeks therapy for his PTSD, and a happy life together no longer seems impossible. But Marc’s been down this road with hot Marines before, and it always leads to heartbreak.
Marc’s always had a thing for guys in uniform, so when Cole walks into the diner one rainy afternoon, his sweet, sexy smile and Carolina drawl pull Marc in like a magnet. That is, until he meets Marc Sullivan, waiter by day, romance writer by night. Add in poor law school grades and his homophobic ex-Marine father’s rejection, and Cole’s nearly at the end of his rope. Separated from service under Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, former Marine major Cole Hammond is trying to reinvent himself, but twelve years in the corps – and near-crippling PTSD – makes reintegration into civilian life hard.
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