-image-First Review of Ms. Match

August 28, 2008 | New Releases

Ms. Match Review from RT (It’s a Top Pick!)

Sparkling, clever writing combines with a perfectly imperfect hero and heroine to make Ms. Match (4.5), by Jo Leigh, a breathtakingly wonderful story. Beverly Hills PR exec Paul Bennet meets headhunter Gwen Christopher when her glorious sister Autumn asks him to find a date for Gwen for their parents’ anniversary. Gwen is funny and smart, but the ugly duckling in a group of beautiful swans as far as her family is concerned. Paul ends up taking her when the escort falls through, hoping the favor will get him into Autumn’s bed. He enjoys himself with Gwen, but she doesn’t think she belongs with the stunning Paul and makes assumptions about him based on her rather stupid family. Their journey to love is funny, warm, smart and amazingly believable. A total keeper.

—Page Traynor

-image-The Irony of Linear Time

August 23, 2008 | home life

Just a few days ago, I got an email that defined bittersweet. Dotes, you see, was adopted. His biological father had never seen him before he was killed in the submarine Seawolf in WWII. Dotes and I had both tried to find his biological family, but we sucked at genealogy and never did. The email was from his first cousin. Turns out there was a large family who’d always missed him. It would have pleased him so much to learn about his father, although his adopted father was wonderful. I’ve corresponded with his cousin and it’s been fascinating. Seems there’s a nephew out there who looks very much like Dotes. Here’s a picture of his father, circa 1944, when he was 27. He had been awarded the Purple Heart, the Silver Star, Bronze Star and Navy Medal. His family was going to give the medals to Dotes. I know he would have been honored.

-image-August 4

August 4, 2008 | home life

Here’s the hard part about journaling and being a professional writer: It’s so very easy to hide behind the words. I’m in grief counseling, which is a good thing, and I’ve been asked to journal about what’s happening in my brain. I’m swimming in murky, sad waters, and I do believe writing it down can be very helpful. Only I keep writing pretty words. Big words. Trying to get it just right. When I do get over myself, finally, and get to the raw parts, I’m only there for a minute, a few lines, then the wall comes back and I’m all about the writing instead of the emotion. I’ve tried listening to music. Writing at different times. Closing my eyes as I write on unlined paper. So far, not much luck. I suppose the only thing to do is to keep on doing it. Maybe I’ll shut up long enough to really say something – eventually.