That sound you hear is Stephen King eating his heart out. And then weeping.

June 7, 2009

BG coverThere is no greater joy for a novelist — other than, say, a three-book advance or a movie deal — than knowing that someone “got” their book.

To know that a reader identified with the characters, that they felt they were actually in the setting, and appreciated the various plot points enough to keep turning pages at a feverish pace until the book was finished and the hour had grown surprisingly late.

Some day I will experience that joy and it will thrill me to the marrow. I know because I’ve just had a very close encounter with that special brand of ecstasy.

It came courtesy of a woman who calls herself “Willow” and is part of a trio of ladies who operate the blog Working Girl Reviews, which invites authors to submit their work to be, well, reviewed.

In her bio, Willow notes she is a multi-published author and a professional book reviewer. In other words, she knows books. Good ones and bad ones.

It somehow fell to her to read Brown Girls after I submitted it to Working Girl Reviews as part of my marketing strategy to spread the word far and wide that my book is out there, dear readers, now please buy it.

The review arrived this morning and, if I told you Brown Girls had scored five out of five, you might stop wondering why a grown man is dancing around his office, still clad in pajamas and housecoat, high-fiving his wife even as she is trying to leave for work.

Here is the review:


Jack Nolan had his moment of fame having a best selling novel published at twenty-five and later writing the screenplay for the movie made from it. But Jack wasn’t thrilled with his new lifestyle or the hypocrisy of the people in it. His writing dried up. His agent was robbing him and his wife left, taking most everything his agent hadn’t. Jack went to the Cook Islands to get away and began taking freelance photos for the local newspaper. He stayed because he loves the islands. He loves the people.

When a tourist is found dead in one of the hotel swimming pools, no one seems to think it anything more than an accident, including the police. Jack isn’t so certain and his peaceful existence is about to explode. While he investigates the man’s death, a young girl disappears and Jack believes the crimes are connected. When the clues begin to add up, he finds himself dealing with the most monstrous criminals.

His personal life is disrupted as well by the arrival of an abused island girl to his home. Maina Rima’s family owns the land and the house where Jack lives and according to island custom she has the right to stay there. Jack isn’t thrilled with sharing his home with a roommate, but morally has no choice. Maina becomes a blessing in disguise, as she acts as his muse and he’s finally able to begin writing again. But Maina is hiding something that puts both her life and Jack’s in danger.

I’d love to say a lot more about this amazing book, but I don’t want to spoil the suspense for other readers. The author’s writing grabbed me with the first sentence and held me captive all the way to the last. A phenomenal writer, Mr. Ireland uses a scarcity of words that keeps the suspense high. Every line is significant—every word has importance. But even with that, his vivid descriptions of the islands and their people have a beautiful poetic flair that brings the scenes to life and absorbs the reader into the story. I highly recommend this book to anyone who likes the genres of suspense, crime drama, mystery, or just a darn amazing read by an extraordinarily gifted writer. Don’t miss this one.


Now you know why I’m dancing. Now you know why I’m sporting a smile that may never leave. Please copy and paste this review to every person you know. And, if that person is a literary agent or owns a publishing company, send it twice.

Keep me dancing, my friends. Keep me dancing.


For the actual blog page of this review, go to

Working Girl Reviews is at

Buy Brown Girls at


One Response to “That sound you hear is Stephen King eating his heart out. And then weeping.”

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