So, skeptical of my prospects and suspicious of the material, I continued dubiously down the rabbit hole. Had I bothered to do my homework, I'd have skipped the title without a second thought, but as it stood I'd managed a good thirty pages and am too damned stubborn to give up without a fight.
Callahan's themes lean toward women's fiction, a genre I've a historically rocky relationship with and I'm not particularly keen on the 1950s. You see, that moment gave me reason to pause and reflect on exactly what I'd gotten myself into. I suppose you're wondering where I'm going with this and I promise, I've a point. Looking back, I'm almost sorry no one was 'round to witness that realization because if it was even half as amusing as I imagine we'd all have a tale to tell.
If memory serves, I was somewhere in chapter three when I broke to read the premise and erupted into giggles over own incompetence. The truth is I've many delightful character flaws and one is a tendency to let my imagination run wild which likely explains my bypassing the description under the assumption the title's focus was the famed Princess of Monaco. Many know I'm a self-proclaimed cover slut, so I want to be perfectly clear when I say that Greta Sibley's design had nothing to do with my decision to read and review Michael Callahan's Searching for Grace Kelly.
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