How on earth did I end up reading two books about women in comas in the same month?

This is fluff, plain and simple. It's the James Patterson school of 'thriller', wherein the 'twists' are obvious logic and the villains twirl their mustaches. They aren't bad, it just takes no brain power to read these.

My two common complaints about these types of books:

1. Please stop showing off how much medical research you did. No one knows what you're talking about, and unless the doctor is an asshole, he's not going to use advanced jargon with concerned friends and family.

2. Once you reveal who the villain is, there is literally no need to make them act sketchy. For the first however long of the book, they were a normal human. Now that the audience knows who they are, they're twitchy and sweaty and suspicious. This makes. no. sense. The villain doesn't know the unseen audience knows who they are, they have no reason to be freaking out if they weren't acting twitchy beforehand.

The villain is revealed less than halfway through the book, and there is literally no reason they don't kill off our scrappy heroine right away. No, seriously. She's in a fucking coma, in a fucking hospital. You're telling me you couldn't figure that out? I'm only a sociopath and I could rub two brain cells together long enough to kill someone in a coma, come on.

There is so much nonsense here. But again, it's fluff.

If you like James Patterson-esque books, this is for you.

If you like Gillian Flynn-esque books, go pick up [b: Sometimes I Lie|32326398|Sometimes I Lie|Alice Feeney|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1498135142s/32326398.jpg|52960112].

Women in a Coma: A whole genre unto itself, apparently.