Wednesday, September 12, 2012
The Undiscovered Novelist
The Undiscovered Novelist by Sarah Bridgeton
Twenty-seven-year-old Jordyn Simmons has almost everything she’s ever wanted—a sexy live-in boyfriend, an adorable son, and a finished novel she plans to publish. The only two things missing from her life are a publisher for her book and a relationship with her estranged mother, Debra. As Jordyn pursues her novelist ambitions, her world collides with Debra’s, and both women are forced to make decisions that will change their lives forever.
I was a little disappointed by this book, but I still really liked it. I think the blurb makes it seem like the story will mainly be about Jordyn's relationship with her mom, but I felt like the story was mainly about her journey to get her book published. I still found it very interesting, it was just not what I was expecting. I knew getting published was hard, but I never really knew what it was like getting rejected over and over by agents. That would be so hard. The way the story ends is very sweet and happy though. I enjoyed it.
I received this book for free in return for an honest review.
On my last day in New York, I sank into Mother’s living room couch and sighed. That chocolate colored sofa was the only place where I thought we could manage a peaceful goodbye. Comfortably broken in and surrounded by cherry-stained bookcases, the couch was my favorite spot to get lost in a good book. When I wasn’t too exhausted from late night feedings or keeping up with my day job, I’d hoist myself up from the soft leather cushions, hand Elijah to Mother, and browse through the bookcases even though I had an eReader and didn’t need Mother’s paper books. She constantly traded books with her friends, and had quite a collection. From bestselling fiction to dry non-fiction, and everything in between, I always found something new to read.
Mother, who sat on the matching loveseat, tossed back her impeccably bobbed hair. “Elijah fell asleep an hour ago. He’s going to miss his young bubbe.”
Referring to herself as a young grandmother wasn’t a stretch. At forty-seven, she looked nothing like a hunched-over elderly woman. Meticulously dressed and groomed, Mother didn’t skimp on maintenance. Ironed clothes were a necessity, and every six weeks she promptly paid a visit to her hairdresser for a color, cut and style.
“Tyler’s in the car, talking to our real estate agent,” I said cautiously. Being in her living room usually didn’t bother me. A scratched and dinged hardwood floor gave the room a casual, lived-in feeling. It was as cozy as I thought every living room should be.
“He’ll only be a minute,” I added, trying to neutralize the uneasiness that lingered between us.
She frowned. “I wish you’d reconsider staying here tonight. You spend more time with his parents. You left me out last Thanksgiving.”
I squirmed inside my high-heeled boots. Thanksgiving had been almost a year ago, right after Elijah was born. Tyler’s parents graciously invited her to their house too, but she refused the invitation. I focused on the maple tree visible from the window. A brilliant corona of yellow leaves, the tree glowed on the warm, fall day.
“I’m sorry your feelings were hurt,” I said, determined to avoid another fight. “But we spent Chanukah with you. We’re here now. That’s what matters.”
She looked at me intensely, her blue eyes concentrated. “What matters is the mistake you’re about to make. I can’t sit back and keep quiet.”
“You have your opinion and I have mine.” I immediately regretted my defensive tone. I was twenty-five-years old and didn’t need her permission to move to Florida.