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Wednesday, May 27, 2015

On Tour: Dear Internet: It's Me, Avery by Jennifer Ammoscato - Review, Excerpt + Giveaway

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Jennifer Ammoscato is now on tour with CLP Blog Tours with her book, Dear Internet: It's Me, Avery. Please visit her page for more blog stops.

Dear Internet: It's Me, Avery (The Avery Fowler 2.0 Series)
by Jennifer Ammoscato

Genre: Chick Lit, Humor, Romance
Publication: May 27th 2015 by Blue Moon Publishers
Format: ebook, 294 pages
Source: ARC, CLP Blog Tours
Connect: Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Goodreads | Blog
Oh, don’t judge me, people. We all do it.

Don’t try to tell me that you’ve never checked that weird mole on your thigh on WebMD. Or how to fold meringue on Epicurious. And, there’s no way that I’m the only one who clears her search history after looking up how to give a great bl— (Um, that last one’s not important.)

When newspaper reporter Avery Fowler discovers her husband is having an affair, the online help site is where she turns to navigate this challenging stage of her life.

If the Internet is Avery’s information god, then is her Holy Grail. Its live chat option is like having a virtual life coach for the low, low price of $14.95 a month:

When I joined, it assigned me “Clementine” as my advisor, based on my choice of “British female” in the Preferences panel. That way, I can pretend that a Maggie Smith or Judi Dench type supplies the wisdom, tinged with a sassy touch of malt vinegar. (In reality, it’s most likely a bored, seventeen-year-old boy labouring in a New Delhi call centre.)

Add into the mix a new boss whose managerial style calls to mind the Wicked Bitch Witch of the West—or the Anti-Christ—and the poor girl needs all the help she can get! The stakes rise and hilarity ensues as our heroine struggles to take control of her personal life and topple her boss after she learns Victoria’s guilty secret.

With Clementine (virtually) in tow, our heroine tackles such tricky situations as dating after divorce, sex once nothing points north anymore, and how to cover attempted murder scenes (despite a paralyzing fear of blood) as the new and improved Avery Fowler 2.0.

'Dear Internet: It's Me, Avery' started out like many other chick lit books I've read. The heroine found out that her husband was having an affair. Like most heroines, Avery was going to need her friends to survive the divorce. But what makes the story much interesting was how Avery looked up for almost everything on and consulted her personal online advisor, Clementine.

This book was a highly entertaining read. I think the author did a very good job writing this book. There were tons of humor and romance. I love Avery. She's a lively character. There are times when I did get a bit frustrated with her, but she's a fun person. I enjoyed reading this book through her view. She made me laugh with her obsession with I love the other supporting characters (Avery's friends and parents) as well. They made the story a lot more interesting. I especially love Avery's parents. They're lovely people who cared a lot about their daughter. I just wish that there was more about Jordan, though. I would definitely recommend this book to those who were looking for a light, humorous read.

I received a copy of Dear Internet: It's Me, Avery by Jennifer Ammoscato from the author/CLP Blog Tours as part of the book tour.

“Avery dear, I want you to meet our dear friend, Tyler Browning.” Tyler steps forward to politely offer his hand. “Hello, Avery.”

My father joins us and sets a tray of cheese and crackers on the coffee table. To the casual observer, he may seem unaware of the tension in the room. I know better.

After four decades of marriage, he’s become quite adept at playing the part of blissfully ignorant bystander to his strong-willed wife’s schemes. He selects a tub chair as his safe harbour and watches the golf tournament on his 65-inch TV with studied interest.

“Hi,” I manage to say to Tyler, finally remembering my manners. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Satisfied that Phase One of Operation “Get Avery a Man” is unfolding properly, my mother calls out to my father, “Stephen, I need you to carve the roast.”

My father does not hesitate and jumps back up to his feet. “Of course, dear.”

I suspect he’s only been briefed on her master plan of attack and hopes to stay as far away from the action as possible. No one willingly wants to be part of the collateral damage.

Tyler and I are alone in the living room. I sense my mother’s eyes on us as she gathers intel that she can use later to assess whether or not her operation has succeeded.

Seeing no graceful way out, I attempt to swallow my annoyance at my mom’s ruse and make small talk with her victim. I plunk myself down on the couch and take a Triscuit from the hefty pile on the tray in front of us.

“So Tyler, how do you know my parents?”

“I started working in the accounting office at the hydro company with your dad a few months ago.”

My dad set me up? I digest this knowledge with a mixture of shock and a swell of affection for him. I feel my eyes well up a little with love for my papa, looking out for me. When my mom does it, I’m annoyed. When my father does it, I feel loved. Is that fair? No. Life’s not fair. Deal with it.

Tyler finally relaxes and I notice that he has kind eyes and a gentle smile. He’s dressed very nicely in a tasteful, salmon crewneck sweater and finely tailored tan slacks. Aww, he dressed up for me. I begin to feel badly that he’s been drawn into this web of deceit disguised as a Sunday roast beef dinner and good intentions.

I offer an apology on my parents’ behalf. “I’m sorry that you were brought out here on false pretense,” I tell him. “My parents just worry about me since my husband left last year.”

Tyler smiles back. “That’s okay. They seem like nice people.” Glancing toward the kitchen, he lowers his voice and says, “But in truth, I’m a bit confused by this whole thing.”

I reach for some Havarti cheese and wedge it between two more Triscuits. “Really, why?” I ask, popping the snack into my mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my mom still watches us intently from the other room. Tyler might be my dad’s idea but I’ll bet money that she developed the finer points of the plan’s execution. Even now, as she arranges the slices of roast on the serving platter, she’s probably deciding what she’ll want our children to call her.

“Well, Avery,” Tyler answers and lowers his voice even more. “I don’t really make a habit of telling people this when I first meet thembut I’m gay.”

For 20 seconds, all I can do is stare at his now-pink face, and process the words that he has just told me. OMG! “You’re GAY?”

I hear a loud gasp from the kitchen—and a crash—as my mother drops the porcelain, serving platter onto the floor.

My great-great-great grandparents brought that platter from Yorkshire, England in the 1800s. It survived a horrible sea voyage lovingly wrapped in hand-made linens and tucked safely into a leather trunk. It endured 150 years of Sunday dinners. It could not, however, survive the stunning revelation that my parents’ first foray into matchmaking resulted a sweet but confused gay man chatting in the living room with their daughter. The platter died a swift but ignominious death on my mother’s slate floor, alongside her pot roast.

I burst out laughing. My parents are so determined to land me a man that they didn’t even bother to check if he likes women. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, Tyler,” I manage to gasp after wiping my eyes, and grasp his hand in solidarity.

In my mind, though, I can already envision the conversation that will take place in the privacy of my parents’ home after Tyler and I have fled. (But dear, how could I have known he was a homosexual. We don’t talk about things like that at the office. Besides, he’s a Green Bay fan!)

Author Bio:

Author Bio: Author Jennifer Ammoscato – solving the world’s problems one cosmo at a time.

Jennifer Ammoscato is a paid, productive member of society. Frankly, it’s not enough.

Therefore, May 2015 will see the launch of her debut novel, “Dear Internet: It’s Me, Avery” (The “Avery Fowler 2.0” series, Book I).

During the day, she is an intrepid writer/editor for the public relations department of a Canadian university. By night, she fights crime and the urge to organize closets and stuff herself with salted chocolate caramels.

Jennifer began writing as a child, producing such classics as “The Occurrence” (she understood the appeal of werewolves long before Stephenie Meyer). She had to search for the courage to write a novel, though. “That’s so F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway. I didn’t know if I had the alcohol capacity for it.” However, after being goaded (sorry, encouraged) by a friend, she took the leap.

Dreams do not inspire Jennifer’s books. In fact, they tend to terrify her. In particular, the everpopular naked-at-school or I-have-a-final-exam-and-didn’t-study dreams. She usually just makes stuff up.

She is married to her husband, Ezio. As opposed to someone else’s husband (insert name here).

She is the proud mom of two very tall sons, Dante and Christian.

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