Lady, save it, please. Ghost, Chloe, a cemetery, something about Starbucks? The fuck you say? This book is a hot mess. This book is like neatly packaged excrement. And it's super nice of you to go to the UK for like two weeks and then smile and flip your hair like, "Oh, I know so much about Britain, time to write a book about it!" Save it. Nobody fucking cares. How about I write a book about kale and Cheetos and G-strings and then pucker up and simper, "Oh, I watched Grey's Anatomy, so now I know so much about America, and I can write a book about it." Give me a fucking break. Take your chai and your Louboutins and get out of my fucking grill. 
 Some people should not be allowed to be authors.