A bit of a slog to finish. I deeply loved the first two books in the series, but it was a love that endured despite some rough edges. One of those rough edges was the author's tendency to be an apologist for the BDSM lifestyle. Occasional passages from books one and two in the series would verge on sermonizing in their defensiveness and high-handedness. But overall, the characters were so engrossing, I could skim these passages with an eyeroll and move on. I don't know who is reading these books, but I highly doubt they would have gotten to book three without unwavering tolerance for BDSM, bisexuality, women's liberation, etc. And yet, book three is the preachiest of them all. Bad enough was the constant drumbeat of vegan BS and an obnoxious discussion of patriarchal wedding traditions, but the sex scenes were the unsexiest smut I've read in ages. The end of the book includes a bonus vignette of a night Neil and Emir spend together, something that SOUNDS like it should be hotter than blazes. And yet, the whole time I was reading it, I felt like I was watching a safe-sex PSA, albeit an expensive, well-produced one that would air on PBS bracketed by ads for Viking River Cruises and a local station pledge drive. The whole encounter read like a manual titled "How to Have Safe, Sane and Consensual Sex in a One-Night Stand without Devaluing the Self-Worth of You and Your Life-Partner" that was no doubt vetted by a highly trained team of sex therapists, infectious disease doctors, and BDSM-friendly life coaches.
I don't consider myself a judgmental person. I enjoy kink, and stones, glass houses, yadda yadda. I am the target audience for this book, I think. I mean, I must be because I've bought three of them. And yet, after finishing this book, I felt like the book was judging me, and I was found hopelessly bourgeois and stupid. The irony of a book about an unemployed 25-year-old fashion maven shacking up with her outrageously rich boyfriend making me feel defensive about my ho-hum, middle-class, suburbanite existence is not lost on me, I assure you. But I'm not sure I'm secure enough in myself and my life choices to actually read the next one. Maybe I should get a therapist, watch a few episodes of Girls first... anybody have a good recipe for a walnut-lentil loaf?