- Title: Finding a Man for Sylvia
- Author: Margaret Lesh
- Genre: Chick-lit, romantic comedy, adult
- Release date: Nov. 23, 2012
A well-intentioned but clueless romantic is determined to find love for her lonely neighbor over her exasperated husband’s objections.
Julia Hawthorne-Florez has the best of intentions, and everyone knows what the road to Hell is paved with. Her husband Javier accuses her of playing God with people’s lives, but Julia is simply a fool for love. (Or maybe just a fool?)
When lonely Sylvia moves in across the street, Julia is determined to find her match. Of course, there are obstacles. Javier, for one, who’s forbidden any further matchmaking attempts on his well-intentioned wife’s part. And there’s the little matter of Sylvia being in love with a man who’s taken a vow of celibacy.
Julia schemes; the hamster wheel in her head spins furiously. Handsome Ted is Julia’s first choice. Except shy Ted happens to be interested in Julia’s best friend, certified dominatrix Lisa. And so it goes. Julia spins her web; Javier laughs at her. But Julia always gets the last laugh in this Latin-infused contemporary romantic comedy.
(1) eBook copy of FINDING A MAN FOR SYLVIA OR (1) eBook copy of the YA contemporary novel NORMALISH. Both books are by the author. Open International.
Book Description for Normalish:
Fifteen-year-old Stacy questions the strange world of high school, family, friends, love, and her role in the universe.
People tell you high school’s so great and wonderful, but they’re lying. It’s mostly horrible and full of disappointment. It sucks. Your best friend abandons you. The jerk you’re in love with pretends to be into you, and then the big dump. The boy you’ve really clicked with as a friend decides to go all crushy over you, so you break his heart just like yours was—smashed into little pieces. Your sister goes mental , and you get involved with an older guy who’s even crazier than she is (who you know is a very bad idea, but you do it anyway). Math only adds another stink of failure to the whole thing.
High school blows. Just ask freshman Stacy. She’d want you to know.
Ted stood awkwardly before me, lamenting his poor dumb fat kitty, and I felt a sudden twinge of inspiration. What could be more perfect and beautiful than bringing two shadow people together? It was the exact right thing to do. Ted and Sylvia were both background players. Who could possibly be a better match for my love-worn friend? I was practically picking out their china pattern, wondering what their children would look like. Good looking, of course; very shy.
“So, Ted, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I said, making conversation, trying to draw him out a little.
He began to fumble and stammer, “Oh, Thanksgiving. Um, wow. I hadn’t—I—uh…”
Only Ted. He hadn’t a clue, and it was the next day.
“We’re eating at three. Join us. Please. I insist.”
“Oh, uh, my mother —”
“Is she trying to set you up again?” I said with a laugh, teasing him just a little. His parents lived back home in Salt Lake City, and it was just like Bitsy to have arranged a space for him at some eligible young lady’s parents’ dinner table for the holiday.
He was looking down at his shoes; I leaned over from my seat at the reception desk where I was temporarily filling in and looked down at them too. They were brown brogue oxfords, the type serious professionals and college professors wear. His coordinated blue-and-green argyle socks were hot, in an “I’m in love with my teacher” sort of way.
“Really, I insist. No one should be alone on Thanksgiving.”
I immediately regretted saying that. Nobody wants to feel like they’re unloved and unpopular. No one wants to feel like a lonely loser. I hoped he didn’t feel that way from my offhand remark, but he looked at me, right in my eyes, and nodded.
“That sounds nice. I’ll be there.”
He took a few steps and then stopped, turned and asked, “Red or white wine?”
“Both,” I answered, surprising him. I was only half joking.
As he walked back to his cubicle, I had to stop myself from rubbing my hands together like Snidely Whiplash—who I didn’t resemble in this context at all. I was using my powers for good. This time.
California girl Margaret Lesh lives with her husband Steve and son Andrew in a quiet suburb near Los Angeles. Co-creator of StoryRhyme.com, she writes middle grade, young adult, and women’s fiction. When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about baked goods, especially donuts, far too often. She believes tacos are magic.
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