Ten Below Zero by Whitney Barbetti


4 Stars|Amazon|Goodreads

I really enjoyed this novel. This novel reminded me of a favorite of mine that I haven't thought of in a while. It was an easy read that had me hooked from start to finish. Fantastic writing and overall GREAT story. Ten Below Zero is one of those novels that you HAVE to finish. I had a feeling where it was going as soon as I started, but the ending isn't the best part in this case, it is everything in-between. The characters, their journey, and the writing are what you get lost in. Sometimes I like the change of pace this the of novel brings. It was well paces in the way that you get lost in reading but you don't feel like it is rushing you. It was a clam ride that I wanted to sit back and enjoy. This is a journey about truly living. Finding your reason for fighting and clinging to it. Both Parker and Everett have their own reasons for this trip. All it took was a wrong number text and fate took a turn for both of these individuals. This novel is aptly names because Parker is truly Ten Below Zero. She is living her life only as far as to say she is alive. Truly she is just sliding by. Everett on the other hand knows that life is short and he is determined to live the rest of his on his own terms. This novel was an emotional roller coaster that I enjoyed right till the end. A great read that was very well written. The characters grabbed your attention and the banter in this novel was unforgettable. It left me content with its ending and thinking about the characters long after the book was done. A fantastic read overall.


“In here,” he said, pushing on the skin above my heart, “you're ten below zero. And you’re closer to death than I am.” My name is Parker. My body is marked with scars from an attack I don’t remember. I don’t want to remember. I choose to live my life by observation, not through experience. While people are laughing and kissing and connecting, I’m in the corner. Watching them live. I’m indifferent to everything, everyone. The only emotion I feel with any kind of depth is annoyance, and I feel it often. A text message sent to the wrong number proves to be my undoing. His name is Everett, but I call him rude. He’s pushy, he’s arrogant, he crowds my personal space, and worst of all: he makes me feel. He chooses to wear all black, all the time, as if he’s waiting to attend a funeral. Probably because he is. Everett is dying. And he’s spending his final days living, truly living. In doing so, he’s forcing me to feel, to heal. To come face to face with the demons I suppressed in my memory. He hurts me, he fulfills me, he completes me. And still, he's dying.