A Christmas present just for guys

Ladies, sit up and take note:


This would be the perfect Christmas present for the Neanderthal in any woman's life. Certainly, it will prove to be vastly more entertaining, useful, and longer-lasting than the atrocious dreck that E. L. James successfully managed to turn into a hugely popular global franchise (God help us all...).

And, despite being basically just a picture book, it is almost certainly better written too:
I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair – it just won’t behave, and damn Katherine Kavanagh for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi presentable.

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