Where does a moderately popular internet star who never leaves her house look for potential suitors? Online. Tinder, Bumble, Match.com, OkCupid—I tried them all. My thirty-one-year-old self clicked and swiped her little heart out, leading to more dates than I could count, and more disappointment than I was prepared for. Maybe you can relate. Maybe you know all too well the perils of modern dating. But let’s say, eventually, you meet someone. You think to yourself, “Wow, they’re perfect! Take me off the market, put a ring on it, knock me up, the whole enchilada, because they are ‘the one.’” Let’s also say that they “feel the same way” about you. Your life starts to make sense! All the pain, heartbreak, and frustration from past failed relationships was worth it. Slow clap. That’s how I felt about Milos. He was from Europe, a doctor, wealthy, athletic. He had an accent and a dog. Milos was textbook marriage material. For him it was “love at first sight,” but for me, it was “anxiety on every date.” Something was telling me to run—but for two years, the only running I did was straight into his arms. If only I would have listened. This isn’t a love story. It’s my story of survival.
Eve and Maggie Abbott are desperate. Out of money, and options, they are forced to move into one very old house. It happens to have belonged to their dead grandmother, but the rent is cheap, and the location is killer. That last sentence is a joke, unless you’re into a “middle of nowhere” vibe—and cows. Welcome to Saintsville, population…too small to matter. Poor girls. Their parents died four years prior, and Eve has been raising Maggie ever since. Correction: trying to raise her, but failing miserably. Attempting to adjust to their new surroundings, life becomes a boring routine of work and school, until one fateful day. A moving truck, preceded by a sleek black hot rod, pulls up to the abandoned shack across the field. Out pour five brothers. Attractive, tall, tattooed, and lethal. But why are all their tattoos the same? What are the new neighbors hiding? And why does Eve have a funny feeling that it has something to do with her? Lock your doors. Close your blinds. The clock is ticking. And the Abbotts? They’re almost out of time.
Eve and Maggie Abbott are desperate. Out of money, and options, they are forced to move into one very old house. It happens to have belonged to their dead grandmother, but the rent is cheap, and the location is killer. That last sentence is a joke, unless you’re into a “middle of nowhere” vibe—and cows. Welcome to Saintsville, population…too small to matter. Poor girls. Their parents died four years prior, and Eve has been raising Maggie ever since. Correction: trying to raise her, but failing miserably. Attempting to adjust to their new surroundings, life becomes a boring routine of work and school, until one fateful day. A moving truck, preceded by a sleek black hot rod, pulls up to the abandoned shack across the field. Out pour five brothers. Attractive, tall, tattooed, and lethal. But why are all their tattoos the same? What are the new neighbors hiding? And why does Eve have a funny feeling that it has something to do with her? Lock your doors. Close your blinds. The clock is ticking. And the Abbotts? They’re almost out of time.
Where does a moderately popular internet star who never leaves her house look for potential suitors? Online. Tinder, Bumble, Match.com, OkCupid—I tried them all. My thirty-one-year-old self clicked and swiped her little heart out, leading to more dates than I could count, and more disappointment than I was prepared for. Maybe you can relate. Maybe you know all too well the perils of modern dating. But let’s say, eventually, you meet someone. You think to yourself, “Wow, they’re perfect! Take me off the market, put a ring on it, knock me up, the whole enchilada, because they are ‘the one.’” Let’s also say that they “feel the same way” about you. Your life starts to make sense! All the pain, heartbreak, and frustration from past failed relationships was worth it. Slow clap. That’s how I felt about Milos. He was from Europe, a doctor, wealthy, athletic. He had an accent and a dog. Milos was textbook marriage material. For him it was “love at first sight,” but for me, it was “anxiety on every date.” Something was telling me to run—but for two years, the only running I did was straight into his arms. If only I would have listened. This isn’t a love story. It’s my story of survival.
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