Published by Mariah Dietz on May 18th 2017
I received this book for free from in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Shakespeare believed there was always humor in tragedy and tragedy in humor.
My life proved his theory as fact.
At eighteen I was a single parent moving to this small town to be with the man I loved. The one who was supposed to love and cherish me in return.
Finding out he had a wife was tragic.
Remaining in love with him in spite of her was more tragic.
My mom and best friend setting me up on a long string of blind dates was an ongoing tragedy.
Nine years later, I’ve learned to see the humor in most situations.
My mom and best friend setting me up on disastrous blind dates.
My son’s jokes.The fire alarm going off each time I cook.
My constant bright spot always adding to the humor was my son, Hayden. But when Hayden had a life-threatening allergic reaction, the man who came to help my little boy became my own savior. His laugh, his smile, and the way his eyes lit up when he spoke to my son made him a beacon of light in both our lives.
But I wasn’t the only one who noticed him.When I began having feelings for the man my best and only friend had fallen for, I knew following my heart would once again lead to a fresh round of heartbreak.
Love led me to this town.Lies kept me there.
Would history repeat itself? Or had life just thrown me another Curveball?
“When you give your heart away there’s no way to fully get it back. Pieces will be left behind, lies will drill holes, deceit will cause cracks, and the feeling of being unwanted will create a doubt your heart was ever whole.”
Curveball is the story of a woman who has had her heart destroyed, but has found the strength to carry on for her son. Ella is a strong heroine, although a bit of a neurotic. She hasn’t had things easy up to this point, but she is determined to succeed, to the point of being obsessed. Coen is the sexy firefighter, who can’t help but be drawn to this woman and her son.
I loved the way Coen is with Ella and her son; he is definitely the type of protective hero we love to read about. I think Coen was my favorite part of the story. Ella was all about her son, and making a great life for him, despite the fact that it meant living in a town that hated her. I so admired her determination.
I’m not always a fan of the slow burn, but here it works well as the characters get to know each other and Ella works through her doubts. If you are expecting sexiness, look elsewhere. This is NOT that type of story. Not what I was expecting, but not bad either.
I really enjoyed this small town romance. It wasn’t quite the angst fest I expected from the blurb. Actually, there is very little angst at all. There is a small twist, and I guarantee you will want to strangle some of the side characters at some point. Ella and Coen, however, share a special connection that you can’t help but root for.
“I don’t watch TV at night…” Her voice drifts off, and I know it’s because she realizes I’m going to ask why.And I do.
“You’re going to laugh.”
“It’s because I can’t hear things.”
“What kinds of things are you trying to hear?”
“I don’t know. Strange noises and things…”
“Do I need to spell it out for you?” She’s trying to sound annoyed, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Apparently, because I have no idea what you’re talking about. What kinds of strange noises are you going to hear? I usually turn my TV up to block out all the strange sounds like the neighbor’s kids and the lady behind me that sounds like Fran fucking Drescher.”
“You know who Fran Drescher is?”
“My mother was a big fan of that stupid show she was in. Stop changing the subject. What are you listening for? Hayden won’t sneak out.”
“What if someone breaks in?”
“You’re not serious.”
“Of course I’m serious!”
“What do you do all night?” I ask.
“Work,” she admits. “Well, usually I clean, and then I work.”
“I’m coming over.”
The panic in her voice doesn’t make her sound upset about the idea, but afraid.
Is it because she likes me?
“Why not?” I ask.
“It’s like nine o’clock.”
“Are you about to turn orange and sprout a stem?”
“That and I’m not wearing a bra, if you must know.”
“So put it back on.”
“You don’t understand. That’s like saying put your jeans back on.”
“I am in jeans,” I lie just to get a reaction out of her.
“What is wrong with you?” she cries.
“What’s wrong with jeans?”
“They’re stiff and uncomfortable. Wearing jeans all day is basically equivalent to walking on sandpaper. But at least you guys have pockets that will actually hold something larger than a thimble and don’t ride up your ass.”