"Los Angeles was freezing but Hobart Bosworth was drenched in his own sweat."
I wrote that first line to JACK LONDON IN PARADISE nearly three years ago. I'm happy to say that it's still there on page one of my freshly printed book - in bookstores everywhere from Simon & Schuster. They say the second book is the hardest one you'll ever write. Whoever "they" are, they're right. Years of thinking about it, tons of research, the sacrifice of family time, days staring at the computer - it's all worth it in the end.
Now it begins a new life, no longer my book, but yours. I hope you enjoy it. It will live on its own without me.
Like a parent I still feel the need to rise to its defense when the occasion calls for it. So, with some diminished respect for the aptly named Mr. Meaney, I have to point out that there are no Ford autos on Willoughby Street, nor Ziegfeld starlets in front of the Bijou. He's nitpicking, but so am I. I took the time and trouble to get the details straight. So should he. Ah well, glad he liked the sex scenes, though. Thanks for weirdly oversharing.
So - go see for yourself. JACK LONDON IN PARADISE is out.