Fiona Gibson has drawn her own blog tour banner and OHMYGOD it’s GORGEOUS!!! SWOOOOOOOOOOOON! I am beyond excited to be today’s stop on Fiona’s blog tour for her new book, The Woman Who Met Her Match, which was published by #TeamAvon on the 20th April! Today I bring you not one but TWO exciting things in my post; a review of the book and an extract. I hope you enjoy! Big thanks to #TeamAvon for asking me to be on the tour!
What if your first love came back on the scene . . . 30 years later?
After yet another disaster, Lorrie is calling time on online dating. She might be single in her forties, but she’s got a good job, wonderful children and she’s happy. This, Lorrie decides, is going to have to be enough.
That is, until she receives a very unexpected request from France. Antoine Rousseau, who had once turned a lonely French exchange trip into a summer of romance, wants to see her – after thirty years.
But Lorrie is a responsible woman. She can’t exactly run off to Nice with the man who broke her teenage heart . . . can she?
A wonderfully funny novel, perfect for fans of Jill Mansell, Joanna Bolouri and Milly Johnson.
What does TWG think?
I’ll admit, I was UBER excited about Fiona’s new book as soon as I saw it! Have you SEEN that font?! Vintage swirls meet bold and inspirational, that’s my take on the font anywhoo!
SO, the book!! Lorrie, a single mum to two teenagers that are adamant to get her love life rocketing from 0-100, with a little help from a certain online dating site. Little did she know what colourful men she would meet on the dates! Cringe! Being a single lady in her forties didn’t seem to worry Lorrie TOO much, yet when her past decided to reappear once again, her personal life decided to use a question mark for a hat.
Can you imagine that, having a question mark for a hat? Wouldn’t really keep your head dry if it rained though, eh?
Just like Fiona Gibson’s previous novels, TWWMHM (The Woman Who Met Her Match) was full of one liners, sarcastic humour and enough cringey moments to keep you full until dinner time (aka A LOT). Honestly! Some of the things Lorrie’s dates came out with caused my hand to fly up to my face so quickly due to embarrassment, I ended up slapping my own face! Classy TWG, classy.
I thought that the French addition to the storyline was a genius idea as I was able to see a different side to Lorrie. She seemed to have a larger than life personality and I wanted her to show it off!
What really hit home with Fiona’s novel was the underlying inspirational touch throughout the entire storyline. Instead of the frequent use of candyfloss inspirational messages, Fiona incorporated fictional kicks up the tooshes into her relatable, bold storyline. There didn’t seem to be any unattainable hidden messages about situations that could happen once in a blue moon; instead there were positivity outcomes to real life circumstances. What more could you want? For me, the real life edge gave the entire storyline its own special platform and made it stand out from the rest.
Whilst I enjoyed the overall storyline, there were a couple of moments where the storyline slowed down and I ended up wondering where it was heading. Luckily, it did get its little nudge and the storyline picked back up again but I did hope that Lorrie could have filled that gap with her big personality.
There were A LOT of things in this book that made me laugh out loud and think to myself , many things which could be seen as spoilers so I’ll keep it to myself. BUT, those thought-provoking moments in the storyline really did open my mind and helped me to see certain things in a different light.
TWWMHM is a bubbly, colourful, laugh out loud read which will keep you on your toes, and have you reaching for a slice of cake to support Lorrie. When the Spice Girls used the term ‘girl power’ back in the nineties, I ignored it, yet Fiona Gibson has just made ‘girl power’ popular again thanks to THIS novel.
Yet another delightful and insightful novel from the very talented, Fiona Gibson. Definitely NOT to be missed!
Thank you Avon Books!
30 Years Later
He’s done that thing.
That thing of using a really old photo on his dating profile. How long ago was it taken? Ten years? Fifteen? This could be a fun guessing game. As if I wouldn’t notice that his hair isn’t in fact a lush chestnut brown as it appears in his picture but actually silver.
‘Ralph, hi!’ Force a smile. Don’t look shocked. Don’t stare at the hair.
‘Lovely to meet you.’
‘You too . . .’
‘Shall we go in then?’ he asks brightly.
‘Yes, of course!’
As the two of us stride into the Nutmeg Gallery, I try to reconcile the fact that the man I’ve had lodged in my head – with whom I’ve been corresponding via email all week – isn’t the eerily youthful-looking Ralph I’d expected to meet. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, new-looking jeans and a blue cotton jacket, he is a perfectly presentable man of forty-eight. He has striking blue eyes, his teeth are notably good – shiny and white, probably flossed – and he’s in pretty decent shape, suggesting that he does a bit of light jogging and goes easy on the booze. So why dig out a picture from something like 2002? When someone does that – and it contravenes the trade descriptions act really – it doesn’t matter how attractive they are, because it’s all you can think about.
And you feel sort of duped.
It was Ralph’s suggestion to meet here, outside the gallery tucked away by a pretty stretch of the canal in Islington. Ideal, I thought. The art bit would feel pleasingly grown-up. I know I shouldn’t still regard galleries in that way, being forty-six myself. I mean, I am mother to two teenagers, for goodness’ sake. I shouldn’t need to do certain things – like look at art – in order to feel like a bona fide adult. Then, after we’d sped through the gallery, we could get to the part I was really looking forward to: a chat in the cafe he’d mentioned, with tables overlooking the canal. ‘Amazing home baking,’ he’d said.
I’d had a good feeling about today, and not just due to the cake element. Ralph had been chatty and interesting in his emails: a solicitor – again, pleasingly grown-up – with hints of poshness and a warm, likeable face. After a couple of dud dates with other men I’d allowed myself a glimmer of hope. But now, well, he’s just not what I expected.
‘I didn’t even know this place existed,’ I tell him as we wander into the first gallery room.
‘Oh, I’ve been here a few times. It’s a charming little place.’
As we study the paintings – at least, I pretend to study them – a sense of awkwardness settles over us.
‘So, how’s it been so far?’ I ask lightly. ‘The whole, um, online thing, I mean?’ An older couple are perusing the artworks, and my voice sounds terribly amplified in here. Perhaps it wasn’t such a great choice of venue after all.
‘Oh, I’ve just started really,’ Ralph says. ‘In fact, you’re the first person I’ve met.’
‘Really? Well, I’m flattered.’ Silly thing to say, I know. He probably just hasn’t got around to meeting anyone else yet.
‘What d’you think of these?’ He indicates a row of small paintings, all in similar beigey hues. They are close-ups of various body parts – a forearm, a thigh, a rather septic-looking finger – each bearing a plaster.
‘Not crazy about them,’ I admit. ‘It’s all a bit medical, isn’t it?’
Ralph chuckles. ‘Yes, it is a bit. The permanent collection’s much better – let’s go take a look.’
We stroll through to an airier room filled with bright, splashy abstracts which are far more pleasing with their cheery colours. Ralph makes straight for a still life depicting a wobbly yolk-yellow circle on a sky blue background.
‘That’s quite striking, isn’t it?’ I remark.
He nods. ‘Yes, it was always Belinda’s favourite.’
‘Belinda?’ I give him a quizzical look.
‘My wife,’ he explains.