Elias looked at the clock: 3:16 PM. One minute.
From that night on, Elias could never again remember what he had for breakfast. But he could tell you, to the exact second, when his mother would call. When the train would be late. When the headache would start. -pnp0ca0
It now read: -pnp0ca0 .
Inside -pnp0ca0 was a single file: thorne.log . Elias looked at the clock: 3:16 PM
Five stars are like six-pack abs on a really tan, hunky guy not wearing much. They make us drool, we stroke them (the books, not the guys! - sometimes the guys...) and want to make sweet, sweet love to them. Five stars is the hottest, we mean, highest honor.
Four stars is a total hunkalicious of burning love, but maybe we didn't like his hair for some reason. We still think he's hot, and we're still going to recommend him, we mean, the book, to readers because it's a damn fine ass, we mean book.
Three stars = that awkward guy at the party. He's cute and you know he's cute, and if you look at him the right way, he even looks like Brad Pitt a little, but there are flaws. Surprisingly, he's good in bed (because you got drunk and shit happens).
Remember that - yeah we don't either.
One star is like expecting a somewhat attractive guy and being sent a Grumpy cat meme. We appreciate the effort, but no. This book was not for us. Grumpy cat might want to use it for litter though.
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