Review: “This Is Love, baby”

This is Love, Baby by K.  WebsterThis is Love, Baby (War & Peace, #2)
by K. Webster

War, my War. My perfectly imperfect hero… sigh… After more than a month I still haven’t gotten over this story. It was so beautiful!

Yet, This is Love, Baby cannot compare to the perfection of .
I guess three main factors are responsible for this.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!! Read to your own risk.

1- Everybody loves Baylee: the more appropriate description though should be, everyone turns crazy in love/lust upon meeting her. If she’s the salve on War’s wounds, Gabriel and Brandon go completely cuckoo over her. Gabriel’s madness we already witnessed in “This is War, Baby” and everyone who knows me knows that I love myself some crazy characters, but adding Brandon’s addiction to her made it seem less realistic and had me rolling my eyes. Still, I loved the conflicted emotions inside Baylee’s mind when it came to him.

2- The first part of the book drags. In my brain I was all “Gimme some War, gimme my War”, but nope, not for a very long time. I didn’t care much for Brandon’s POV and I would have liked him more if he’d stayed in Baylee’s past.

3- War is less… maniacal and more “normal”. But guess what? I loved maniacal War! It was what made him so special, so incredible. And sure, I’m happy for him and Baylee if he finally managed to snap out of it, or at least made progresses, but the thing is that what I loved the most about these books were War and Baylee, their weird normality, their everyday struggles. Their amazing chemistry. Here, at the beginning, we’re depressed because he’s supposedly dead, then when they’re reunited it was almost overly sweet.

Still, it was an amazing read. A must read if you enjoyed the first book. The epilogue left me befuddled but I’ve already seen many stellar reviews about “This isn’t over, Baby” and if there’s one writer that can turn a motherfucker like Gabe into a hero, that author is Webster. And I definitely hope there will be more War in the new installment too. I’m having withdrawals.

“Thank you for loving me. I’m hard to love, Baylee. It takes a special person to love someone like me.” […]
“It was never hard for me,” she whispers. “It was always too easy. Like breathing or talking. Loving you came second nature. You were meant for me.”

Truer words were never spoken.


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