The only reason I read L.A. Candy through to the end instead of throwing it out of my window in frustration is that I committed myself to doing so. (Also, it was a library book, so… two reasons.)
This novel is a blatant attempt to capitalize off of the reality TV show that brought Lauren Conrad into our living rooms, and some of our hearts,
written with less grace and finesse than a Sweet Valley High novel,
and, unless you feel compelled to adhere to your own arbitrary and impulsive decisions,
far too easy to put down.
My recommendation? Don’t bother to pick it up in the first place.