Damn!Again?!This is getting serious!Okay, let's try it this way...If you've read this, there's no reason for me to talk about all the stuff that's going on here.If you haven't - I don't want to spoil the fun, and there are so many reviews already, I honestly don't see why I should.So, I'll make it short and (hopefully) sweet!First of all, I wouldn't mind getting myself in a year and a half of full mystery action going on. At all. And, if the guy happens to be half as good as Cabe Hawk Delgado (or Mitch... or Tack...), well I'd know what to do with it. Seriously.What bugs me (kind of) is the emotional weight of this book (well, KA books I've read so far). What I mean by "emotional weight" is I've been crying like crazy reading this. Well, at some points at least. And it bugs me, because I was the kind of girl my very best (sister-like) friend used to describe as "seen her cry twice for the first ten years I've known her". See? I have no clue what happened! At some point, I've turned into this weeping bunch. Damn!Anyway, my point (and I do have one) is this - Mystery Man is not what I thought it would be. It's way better. I love it! I'm seriously hooked! Couldn't be happier!This time around, there are no "love you" quotes. I've decided to stick with a little something from the very beginning. A little something that made me sure I'll abso-freaking-lutely love this book!“You fucked up today, Gwen,” he told me.“I think you’ve made that clear, baby,” I shot back.For some reason the warmth in his eyes deepened at the same time he whispered his warning. “Don’t call me baby when you’re pissed, Sweet Pea.”“Don’t call me Sweet Pea at all, baby,” I retorted.“You call me baby when I’m fucking you,” he stated and I didn’t know if this was a demand or a recall but it was probably both.“Well, don’t hold your breath for that to happen again.”The warmth in his eyes got deeper, hotter and his thumbs stroked my jaws again. I tried to pull my face away but his hands tightened and I stopped.“You shouldn’t make a threat you can’t carry out,” he advised, still talking gently.“How many times do I have to tell you to go?” I asked.He ignored me and declared, “I end things.”Seriously, he was not for real.“It’s good to experience change in life, refreshing, keeps your senses sharp,” I informed him.“Don’t push that shit, Gwendolyn,” he warned. “You won’t like the consequences.”“What’s your name?” I asked on a dare.He called my dare and raised me. “You call me baby.”“What’s your name?” I repeated.“Sometimes honey,” he continued.“What… is… your name?” I demanded.“But I prefer baby.”I had on spike-heeled, strappy sandals, my hair was out to there and my makeup was “do you come here often?”.“You comin’ or what?”That was it. That was his pickup line. “You comin’ or what?”I went.