Maybe even one star, I don't know. I was all set to love it, but it was really just okay. I hated how it was written like someone's blog, so ridiculously colloquial and in a very 2010s-internet-humor kind of way. (Short sentences. Followed by sentence fragments. And consecutive parentheses.)(So many things set in parentheses that didn't need to be.) It certainly didn't help that Georgie is one of those women who think nice guys are boring, that you need to get the jerk guys to like you because that's how you know you're good (actual almost direct quote). And it didn't help that Neal is one of those men who sulks and frowns all the time, but it's okay because the woman who loves him can tell he's smiling even when he never ever does. He "huffs a smile into her ear," whatever the hell that means. Look, modern writers, I can handle this nonsense from the Bronte sisters. You are not the Bronte sisters. 
 I was honestly annoyed from the beginning, and I was annoyed about being annoyed, because this is a book I wanted to like. I might still read Attachments someday, but with much lower expectations now. 
 Update after reading Attachments: Nope. This was officially the book that knocked me out of love with Rainbow Rowell.