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Charlotte Goodman has had enough surprises.
In fact, she reached her life’s quotient when her husband of five months walked out on her, only to abruptly change his mind a few weeks later and move back in. Stung by a whiplash of grief, resentment, and confusion, Charlotte calls a time-out, taking a small apartment where she can figure out what she wants. Instead, the thought of making even the simplest choices triggers an anxiety attack. In order to get out of bed in the morning, she must concoct a to-do list for each day, The Plan, one with absolutely no surprises.
“Without The Plan, horrible things can happen. I’m likely to end up sitting on a curb beside a taco truck on Sunset Boulevard, crying over a carne asada burrito, wondering where my marriage went. I can’t handle being the Weeping Burrito Girl.”
Charlotte knows all this self-absorbed introspection isn’t good for her, but she’s running out of people to turn to, as seemingly everyone in her life is pressuring her to make an immediate decision about her future. Then her new friend Francesca—an impulsive, smartass co-worker—offers Charlotte salvation in the unlikeliest of places: the fast-paced, super-tough, bump-and-bruise-filled world of roller derby.
Sure, it’s dangerous. Yeah, she could get hurt. But what’s a little physical pain when healing your soul is at stake? The question is: whether she’s on or off the track, will Charlotte be strong enough to stand on her own two feet?
315 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2010


"He opened the door and threw the scraps of my work out onto the porch.And then this...
I fell to the ground, empty, like I'd been tossed out, too.
Right there.
Right there was where my life stopped.
Where my marriage broke."
"'He left two weeks later. I think he couldn't handle what he'd done.'
'Or what he was told he did. If he really doesn't remember, that has to be a little scary, huh?'
[...]'I know. And maybe now he thinks I'm a reminder of the worst that he's capable of.'
[...]'But what if you haven't seen the worst he's capable of?'
The question causes me to rub my chest, trying to get through to the ache inside. 'Frannie,' I say, my voice breaking. 'Why do you think I moved out?'"
