I started reading FIFTEEN MINUTES OF SHAME late one morning, thinking I would read an hour or two and then do all the things I still had to do… and I knew Darby Vaughn was my kind of girl as soon as she was stalking her cheating husband and spotted him coming out of a store with a bag and wondered, “What’s in the bag? Condoms? Microwave Burrito?” These were the of kind pitch-perfect laugh-out-loud lines (hundreds of them!) that caused me NOT to do all the things I had to do and by the time my son came home from school, he found me curled up in my favorite chair with a cup of tea and you guessed it, FIFTEEN MINUTES OF SHAME.
I just wanted to read one more chapter.
“I’m starving!” my son said circling me in fascination.
“Uh huh,” I said and put up my index finger to indicate I’d be with him in just a sec and stood up, still reading, and opened the freezer and threw a pizza in the oven for him.
But of course I wasn’t with him at all. I was way too wrapped up in Darby Vaughn’s hilarious and poignant and ultimately triumphant journey from two-timed wife who is humiliated on National TV and falls into a bit of a funk EVERY woman can relate to, and fears her career as a dating expert is over to…. well, I wouldn’t want to give away too much because then you wouldn’t click Amazon right this second and buy Deb Lisa’s book and enjoy the pleasure of getting so wrapped up in Darcy’s plight that… I burned my son’s pizza and ordered take-out for the rest of the family that night because honestly, I could NOT put down FIFTEEN MINUTES OF SHAME.
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