I think I stopped maturing at 13. Seriously, I really do.

I’ve tried to appreciate serious literature, I swear! I see these novels that my peers gush about and all I think is boring. Isn’t that awful? Don’t get me wrong. I love literature geared towards adults as long as it is in the chic-lit arena or just has a character I can relate to, but when I see novels that are extremely deep (to the point where there is no happy) in their message or whatever, I yawn.

This is kind of sad because I feel like I’m an inept reader or vapid myself, but I swear I’m not! I just really want to be entertained. I don’t want my head to hurt after reading, though I do love analysing what might come next.

I love sparkling vampires, boy wizards, coming of age stories, a little mouse on a journey to love a Princess named Pea, etc.

All well and good if I actually were 13 and not a 27-year-old married mother of one.

My name is Amanda and I’m so the YA/MG’s target market (they just don’t realize it).

Side note…my brother-in-law told me that he thinks we’ve turned four-shades lighter because of the insane amount of vampire books we’ve read lately. Yessir.