.png)
If you find yourself talking to Jayne Dandy, keep the conversation on Star Wars and rubber ducks—best not to mention men, dating, or S-E-X. Because Jayne is fine with the way things are: writer of obituaries and garage sale ads by day, secret scribe of adventures in distant galaxies by night. But her crippling fear of intimacy has made her the butt of jokes since forever, and hiding behind her laptop isn’t going to get her lightsaber lit.
After her therapist recommends that she write erotica as a form of exposure therapy, Jayne joins forces with pen and paper to combat the demons that won’t let her kiss and tell. Unexpectedly downsized at work, she adopts a pseudonym and secretly self-publishes one of her naughty books to make ends meet. When her adorable, long-time friend Luke, co-owner of the popular Portland food truck Luke Piewalker’s, hears she’s been demoted, he insists on hiring her to sling éclairs and turnovers at his side. Her secret must be kept, but sparks ignite between them, sending Jayne and her X-Wing into a tailspin that will either make her face down her neuroses or trigger a meltdown of Death Star proportions.
After her therapist recommends that she write erotica as a form of exposure therapy, Jayne joins forces with pen and paper to combat the demons that won’t let her kiss and tell. Unexpectedly downsized at work, she adopts a pseudonym and secretly self-publishes one of her naughty books to make ends meet. When her adorable, long-time friend Luke, co-owner of the popular Portland food truck Luke Piewalker’s, hears she’s been demoted, he insists on hiring her to sling éclairs and turnovers at his side. Her secret must be kept, but sparks ignite between them, sending Jayne and her X-Wing into a tailspin that will either make her face down her neuroses or trigger a meltdown of Death Star proportions.
REVIEW
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Fave Quotes:
The latest journal, containing the unfinished sequel to the first novel, I carry with me everywhere. In case someone breaks into my apartment to smother himself in my underwear and steal my Star Wars collectibles.
I can't walk home alone or I'll get mugged by bagpipe-playing hipsters on unicycles.
He knows that Senator Palpatine is Darth Sidious, and that General Grievous hates being called a droid. Or if we're Star Wars-weary, we can talk about Middle Earth or the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros or Craigh na Dun as if they were real places, places we could find if we were to get lost while wandering the forests and fields skirting Mt. Hood.
It always feels like the Eye of Sauron searching for the One Ring under my elven cloak.
"Sorry about that. My mother is eagerly awaiting new Padawans to add to her Rebel army."
And in a brief but powerful moment, I feel the bite of tears in the back of my throat—these are my people. We are all crazy and fun and silly together. I've never felt more un-alone in my entire life.
AUTHOR
A purveyor of fictions, Eliza Gordon has excellent taste in books, shoes, movies, and friends, and questionable sanity in the realm of love. Best leave that one alone.
GIVEAWAY
A Rafflecopter Giveaway
*I received this free copy in return for an honest review, and opinions are mine alone.
