My Mom Might Actually Be Jewish
My mom ran a bed and breakfast in our home when I was a kid. I lived between world class golfing and a hub of NASCAR. So, we were pretty busy. It didn't hurt that we lived on a gorgeous piece of property with a lake and my mom was a good cook.
More importantly, she was a prolific cook. Nobody goes hungry when Lucretia is in charge. There were brownies everywhere, fresh bread in abundance, and the daily breakfast was a spread of egg casserole, Victorian baked french toast (quite possibly the richest breakfast food of all time) and bowls of fruit, yogurt, and granola. I got the leftovers and since there were no more than four guests at a time and my Mom made enough for the Confederate army to pass through, I got plenty of leftovers.
The whole time I read this frothy, silly, predictable, and flat out delightful read, I had one thought:
"I think I might be Jewish."
The Jewish element of this book is what saved it for me. It was painfully predictable, and the whole idea of "true love" at twelve and nursing far too deep wounds from a summer camp prank was quite distracting. But, it was quick. It was fun. And learning about devout Jewish culture through this magical romantic romp was downright fun.
Will it change your life? No.
But, it will make you smile.
And it will also make you crave an enormous amount of baked goods.