Twenty-eight year old Dempsey Killebrew has just learned a hard lesson: the real reason people in power have assistants. One minute, Killebrew is a rising PR associate, Georgetown JD in hand, the next, she finds herself at the wrong end of a political scandal involving her PR firm and her slick, backstabbing boss. Looking for career advice, she looks to her dad who, in turn, offers her a less than stellar “opportunity” to flip a family property in Guthrie, GA. Dempsey reluctantly packs her high-gloss city life into her bag and heads south where she finds a shack, rather than a house, and a borderline psychotic, shot-gun wielding great –cousin who has taken up residence in the old place along with her grumpy cocker-spaniel. While she rails against the change in scenery at the beginning, Guthrie’s small town charm (and gentlemen) brings unexpected plot twists, sure to excite Andrews’ faithful readers.
I have no idea why this book, cover or synopsis, appealed to me but it did. Not only have I read nothing previously by Andrews, I have reading next to nothing that constitutes as “chick lit”. That is not to say, as some assume, that I dislike female writers or even men writing about female protagonists. I just have not gotten around to the doilies and bachelorette parties because I fancy myself a reader of deeper things. I thought I should probably have a go at it and I do, to explain the cover fixation, occasionally like pink.
The story itself is cute and fast paced, making a light summer read. I am not sure it had me hooked on the romance, though. For me, the love stories in romance novels always seem contrived. There is always one girl in town that the boys are after and she doesn’t seem to realize this until page 127. Eventually one lucky suitor wins out, leaving the others in the jolly, fraternal dust, and the rest is history (although not before a little bit of reluctant, soul searching on the part of the sought after protagonist). I will not drag this model across the coals as it is clearly a successful one and will resonate with many readers, no matter how many different ways it dresses up.
I sat down to write my review, notes in hand, ready to go to town tearing apart character development, sexism, racism and a very loose concept of reality holding the piece together. And while I must get off my chest that I found Dempsey infuriatingly dimwitted and weak considering her place in Washington as a Georgetown Law School grad, I fear she is not based on complete and total fiction. Thankfully, before I launched into an essay on the pitfalls of female writers chucking their lady characters into the same bimbo category that many of their male counter parts are accused of doing, I remembered that this was not my usual reading; that it was, perhaps, just a piece of fiction meant for a breezy summer evening. Now, I will not for a second tell you that I’ve fallen highlighted head over Manoloed heel (look, I learned something: a Manolo Blahnik is apparently some type of shoe) in love with pink-pulp fiction but it was a silly fun read and for that I commend it.