Mr. Wrong Number: A Rollercoaster of Emotions and Eye Rolls
When I first dove into Mr. Wrong Number by Lynn Painter, I was on the verge of a late-night impulse buy, swayed by the promise of witty banter and steamy romance. I mean, who doesn’t love a good enemies-to-lovers story with a sprinkle of messiness? However, dear readers, what awaited me was an eye-opening journey filled with moments that had me gasping and face-palming in equal measure.
At the heart of this chaotic tale are Olivia and Colin, characters who seem perpetually stuck in a whirlwind of immature decisions and overreactions. Olivia, nearing thirty but emotionally suspended in adolescence, felt like the directorial vision of an Olivia Rodrigo music video. When her boyfriend makes the dismal decision to chow down on cake out of a “slut’s” belly button (yes, you read that right), Olivia opts for a dramatic flair—setting her apartment ablaze in frustration. Talk about taking things up a notch!
Colin is no more of a poster child for maturity. Described in excruciating detail as the bearers of “annoying abs that stare at me, beckoning,” he’s a character whose appeal lies mostly in his physicality rather than any emotional depth. I mean, can a man’s well-chiseled body save him from the judgment of possessing the emotional maturity of a pet goldfish? The back-and-forth banter between them had potential but often devolved into eye rolls, and frankly, the narrative left me dreaming for something a tad more substantial.
The plot itself is a real mixed bag. Olivia and Colin’s chemistry initially sparks through some anonymous texting, a modern twist I was totally here for. However, as they slip into a confusing friends-with-benefits arrangement, I found myself thinking: Why are two supposedly grown adults navigating their lives like this? With both hovering around thirty, their decisions at times felt more akin to a high school misadventure than a mature engagement.
As I turned the pages, I relished some of the dialogue—Lynn Painter does have a knack for snappy one-liners. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that no amount of witty repartee could excuse the glaring lack of essential emotional connection between Olivia and Colin. One moment had Olivia exclaim: “We’re just two people who like sex. That’s it, Colin!” If only they had etched a deeper bond beyond physical attraction; I likely would’ve cheered them on instead of cringing at their melodrama.
The ending, where Olivia’s frustrations bubble over and Colin offers a weak apology just before they stumble into matrimony in the sequel, left me feeling utterly perplexed. Folks, I’m no relationship expert, but this was a recipe for disaster!
So, who might enjoy Mr. Wrong Number? If you’re a reader who revels in messy romance filled with angst, impulse decisions, and a splash of toe-curling tension, you might find joy here. Just be prepared for a cast of characters that may incite more migraines than butterflies in your stomach.
In the end, while this book might not have landed as perfectly as I wished, it certainly left me with thoughts to mull over long after the last page. Here’s hoping for a future where characters learn from their mistakes—beyond just experiencing burnt relationships and poorly executed romps!
Discover more about Mr. Wrong Number (Mr. Wrong Number, #1) on GoodReads >>