Product Description

A feast of romance and laughter featuring a delightful and courageous heroine that you can relate to no matter what your size.

Convinced that her larger size relegates her to wallflower status, Freddie Heinz hides behind the wedding cakes she creates as a professional baker. But life is about to change for Miss Invisible.

First of all, Freddie's found a new friend who encourages her to come out of her shell. Then Hal, the cute veternarian, starts showing interest in the woman behind the delightful cakes. And when Freddie decides to break every rule in the "big girl's" book and find out who she really is, life gets even more exciting--and hilarious.

Cinderella, look out! Miss Invisible is becoming the belle of the ball--and having a ball in the process. Because when you finally find God's call for your life, any size is the right size--and love can see what the rest of the world passes by.

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Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #36339 in Books
• Published on: 2007-03-13
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 320 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9781595540683
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chaper One

One size does not fit all.

"Not women like me," I muttered as I tried to wriggle the cotton peasant skirt over my double-wide-trailer hips in the cramped dressing room.

I don't know what possessed me even to set foot in that hot new mall boutique. I should have just continued on my normal way to Payne Tryon, the second home to big women everywhere. But the flowing boho-chic outfit on the larger-than-standard twig mannequin in the window caught my eye. Its flared and tiered fullness beckoned me with its ample waves of "one size fits all" material. Only the waves weren't ample enough, and the material in question didn't have one whit of rayon or spandex in it. A blend is forgiving and will stretch. One-hundred-percent cotton will not. And didn't. As I said, I should have known better. Places like that aren't for big women like me. Notice I didn't say "plus-sized." I hate that term and refuse to use it.

My name is Freddie--short for Fredericka. Fredericka Heinz. Yes, like the ketchup. A sturdy German name, for a sturdy German girl descended from good, sturdy German peasant stock. Jawohl!

My father, who'd never be confused for a peasant even on his worst day, longed for a son to carry on the family name but got me instead. It's been downhill for me ever since.

At last I managed to free myself from the constricting skirt. Turning my back to the mirror, I quickly pulled on my big-girl uniform of black pants and black tunic, eager now to escape the claustrophobic cubicle. Hopefully, I wouldn't run into the Paris Hilton-lookalike salesclerk on my way out.

No such luck. She flicked her platinum hair and gave me a bright, lip-glossed smile. "Well?"

"Not really me," I mumbled, handing over the traitorous skirt draped over my arm.

We both knew I was lying, but at least she didn't suggest I'd be better off at Payne Tryon, like the last snippy salesgirl when I tried to shop in a regular store.

"About time you got back." My boss, Anya Jorgensen, folded her arms across her silicone-enhanced chest, tapped her stiletto mules on the tile floor, and glared from me to the bakery's wall clock, which showed I was seven minutes late from lunch. I drop-kicked her skinny butt out the door, pausing only long enough to smash a banana-cream pie into her perfectly made-up face.

Well, I always did have a great fantasy life.

Pulling on my requisite white coat and shoving my hair up into the white hat Anya always insisted upon, I murmured, "Sorry.

My errands took longer than I thought." No way was I going to let her know about the skirt debacle. Not Anya. Especially not Anya.

"Well, hurry up." She thrust a pink order form at me. "We got a rush for a birthday cake. They're picking it up at five."

I stared down at her precise black lettering. "But I still have another birthday cake for today, plus the Wallace wedding cake to decorate for tomorrow morning."

"So you'll have to work a little late. You could probably use the overtime . . ."

"Actually, I--"

The bell over the front door jangled. I scooted toward the swinging double doors to the kitchen, where I set the order form down on the floury counter and released a heavy sigh as I drummed my French-manicured nails on the countertop. My nails are a little shorter than I'd like, but I learned early on you can't work in a kitchen and have gorgeous, long fingernails. So instead, I have gorgeous short fingernails, thanks to my weekly manicure indulgence. Hey, I may not be body beautiful, but a girl's got to play up her assets, right? And this manicure was fresh, because I actually did have someplace to go that night.

Any other Friday, Anya would be right about my plans. I usually picked up Chinese or pizza on my way home and settled in for the evening with a good book or my Alias DVDs. I love watching Sydney Bristow kick some serious bad-guy butt. Plus, that

Vaughn is really easy on the eyes. Tonight, however, I had other plans. That's why I'd dared to don the peasant skirt on my lunch hour. Drop-dead gorgeous Jared Brown from church had actually invited me to a party.

Okay, so he hadn't invited me specifically. He'd asked a whole group of us from church to come, and I'd happened to be on the outer fringe, getting ready to leave the nine-thirty service.

Jared pointed to me and said, "Hey, don't you work at Jorgensen's?" He smiled, revealing dimples so deep even a girl like me could fall into them and never come out. "Think you could bring one of their great cakes?"

It was the first time Jared had ever noticed me, and I wasn't about to pass up that chance. Even if my pass to the party was a cake--a cake I'd pay for, of course, but that I still had to bake and decorate. Along with this last-minute birthday cake and tomorrow's wedding cake.

I sighed again.

My fellow baker, Millie, who was boxing a standing Friday afternoon order of her fabulous oatmeal-raisin-chocolate-chip cookies, gave me a sharp look. "You need to start standing up to Anya. Learn to say no."

Shane, our intern, grunted. "Hah. In what universe?"

"Watch your mouth, young man," Millie said.

"Sorry." He shot a contrite look my way. "I wasn't trying to be mean."

"That's okay. You're right. It would have to be a parallel universe before I got the nerve to stand up to Anya."

Shane crossed the space between us in two eager strides. "I could do one of the cakes for you, Freddie. That way you wouldn't have to stay so late."

My eyes flicked to the double doors. "I don't know. Anya would have a cow. She hasn't decided if you're ready to graduate to cakes yet."

"She wouldn't even know. Come on," he pleaded. "You know she never comes back here in the afternoons."

"He's right," Millie harrumphed. "Wouldn't want to get her fancy designer shoes dirty." She peered through the face-sized window on one of the swinging doors. "Besides, she's busy yakking on her cell, like always. Give the boy a chance."

Jared Brown's deep dimples flashed before my eyes.

"Okay, you can do the carrot cake." I handed him the order form and Jorgensen recipe book. "And don't forget--when you make the cream cheese icing, add a couple drops of almond extract." The almond extract was my special touch--it set our cream-cheese icing apart from all the other carrot cakes in town. I checked my supplies in the walk-in. Still plenty of lemon curd left over from the lemon-chiffon wedding cake I'd baked earlier in the week, plus half a flat of fresh raspberries. I decided to make a lemon raspberry cake for tonight's party. And while the lemon sponge cake was baking, I'd begin icing the wedding cake in the pretty garden-lattice design the bride requested. Tomorrow, before Anya arrived to transport that cake to the reception, I'd finish it off by applying the fresh daisies and yellow rosebuds to the base, crowning the top tier with the delicate rose nosegay topper the florist would deliver first thing in the morning.

I attached the beaters to my industrial-strength mixer, my face flushing as I thought how impressed Jared would be with my cake.

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I've perfected the fine art of leaning.

Leaning is the secret of big girls everywhere, especially at outdoor activities involving food. Like tonight's party.

"No thanks," I smiled and said to Pastor Chuck when he offered me a seat in one of those flimsy white plastic outdoor chairs. "I need to stretch."

And stretch I did. Then leaned some more. Against the patio wall, a tree, or the back of the house. I'd gotten quite good at balancing a paper plate in one hand and eating with the other. This pretty much limited me to carrots, celery, grapes, and the occasional drumstick. But that was a good thing, because it preempted those knowing looks from everyone that translated into, "Well, no wonder she's so big. Look at what she's eating."

I'd just wait until I got home to dig into a burger, a little potato salad, and maybe just a sliver of the Sara Lee cheesecake I'd squirreled away in the farthest recesses of the freezer.

From my invisible corner, leaning against the far end of the patio wall in my second loose black skirt and top of the day--I'd changed into a fresh set I keep at work--I watched Barbie and Ken and all the giggling twenty-something girls, in their cute capris and tight camisoles, oohing over Barbie's ring. Barbie and Ken were the guests of honor at the party, the former leaders of the singles group--now newly married. (He was the singles pastor; she was his right-hand woman and social director.) Their names weren't really Barbie and Ken, but they were so disgustingly perfect and adorable, with their tanned California hard bodies, bleached teeth, and perky, upbeat demeanors, that I'd christened them that in my head. I nibbled on a baby carrot and let my eyes roam the yard.

Potlucks and barbecues are the only outdoor activities I do. I shun all the rest--camping, hiking, jogging, and especially any kind of water sport. I know better than to inflict my big, white, twentynine-year-old self in a bathing suit upon the unsuspecting world. It's not a pretty thing.

Besides, even though I'm a born-and-bred California girl, I can't handle the heat. So when family or friends are frolicking at the pool in the blazing heat, I usually escape to my room with a good romance novel or go to a matinee. Invisible in the darkened coolness of the theater, I indulge in a large buttered popcorn, a Diet Coke, and a box of Junior Mints as I pretend I'm the girl on the silver screen who gets the guy. Tonight, though, instead of the silver screen, I'm watching Jared and all the girls clustering around him, wishing I were one of them. But not just one of them. The one.

I glance down at my big, sturdy calves and know it will never happen.

...

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Customer Reviews

One of the best chick lit books EVER!
Freddie is a just your regular almost 30 something woman, who has a job she enjoys, with a boss she hates, trying to find that special guy. Oh and she's also on the bigger side which ironically makes her easy to miss. She's learned to blend in the crowd, pleasing society by eating carrot sticks in public and then going home and downing a pint of ice cream. She's learned to keep her anger inside and stay hidden. Then she meets Deborah, a caterer who gets Freddie to release her true self and become a new person. Once Freddie finds her voice, her life changes- for the better.

Oh I loved loved LOVED this book! The story is excellent, the characters are great, there's so much food in the book! I could really relate to Freddie. I'm not a big girl, but neither am I a size 6 either. I felt the same way she does about how smaller girls always get the attention from society and everyone else gets ignored. And I was really glad that Freddie showed realistic reactions to those girls that wear low cut jeans and belly baring shirts. I loved that there is a character named Deborah in this book. Usually when I read a book where there is a character that shares my name she usually gets it shorten down to Debbie (ugh). Not so here, and what an awesome character Deborah was. I wish I had a friend like her in my life. I really felt for Freddie when her father kept insulting her throughout her life. It really hurt during the party when he did it to her face right in front of everyone. I'm glad that the author did not feel that this book needed to have a tidied ending where Freddie and her father magically get along. I would not have believed it if it was written that way, it would have been completely unrealistic. I just loved how real this book is. Christians do tend to be prejudiced in regards to appearance no matter what they say.

I really loved this book. And I totally did not feel guilty about eating ice cream while reading it either! This is one of the best chick lit books I have ever read, Christian or secular. This is a perfect book to pass along to non Christian readers as well, it's not preachy at all, just a fun good read. If you haven't read any of Laura Jensen Walker's other books, I highly recommend reading those as well. I know I'll be anxiously awaiting her next one!

A Cheering Section
This book was like a heartfelt cheering section
for EVERYONE who feels invisible, unaccepted, and is struggling to find who
God made them to be.

Although my "issues" may be different than Freddie's, the author created a character I could completely identify with. I was delighted and inspired by taking this journey of risk, change, and growth with Freddie and her friends.

Another delightful read from Laura Jensen Walker!
I have so enjoyed each Walker book, but I consider Miss Invisible a cut above the rest. The writing is seamless and fun. A great example of "big-girl" chic-lit or would that be "chunk-lit?" The almost thirty Fredricka 'Freddie' is plagued by other important issues including: a history of abuse from her father and stepmother who always found fault in Freddie, harassment from her boss, being ignored everywhere she goes, and a rocky love-life 'at best'. In fact, call it a non-existent love-life. But Freddie's wit and resilience shine through in spite of her lack of self-worth. When God puts Deborah into her path, Freddie's world begins to change. For the better!

The writing was so good, the story so compelling, the setting so enticing, the characters so unique and real, and the situations so gripping...I could not put it down. I carried it with me everywhere, hoping I'd need to wait for roadwork or at the Dr.'s office. It was THAT good. Loved it!