"After participating with theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer in unsuccessful plots to assassinate Hitler, Louisa is sent to 'wait out the war' in the dusty mining town of Copper Springs, Arizona. She can't quite leave her resistance skills behind and soon turns the town upside down"--Author's WWW site.

Never borrow pants from your brother. Especially if he's a size smaller than you are, because all that pressure in the junk will short-circuit your brain. And you'll lie to a woman in a club about your real name. Leave her unsatisfied after making out in a bathroom. Then find out that she's the one thing standing in the way of your dreams. And she very much doesn't like being lied to. Now I have to convince Lila Valentine--the woman I can't stop thinking about, my biggest regret, and my new boss--that I'm what's best for the baseball team she's inherited. If we can't work together to save the Fireballs, the commissioner's forcing a sale and moving them across the country. I'll do anything to save my home team. But the one thing I can't do? Keep my hands to myself. Which would be fine, if she hadn't been telling me lies this whole time too. Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire is a rocking fun romance between a single dad obsessed with baseball, an heiress with secrets, baseball pants, a rundown team, and rabid ducks. It stands alone and comes with a guaranteed happily-ever-after.

"Wright shrinks back from nothing."—The Village Voice "Wright belongs to a school of exactly one."—The New York Times Book Review "Wright has found a way to wed fragments of an iconic America to a luminously strange idiom, eerie as a tin whistle."—The New Yorker "C.D. Wright is one of America's oddest, best, and most appealing poets."—Publishers Weekly A companion to her astonishing collection of prose Cooling Time, C.D. Wright argues for poetry as a way of being and seeing, and calls it "the one arena where I am not inclined to crank up the fog machine." Wright's passion for the genre is pure inspiration, and in her hands the answer to the question of poetry is poetry. From "In a Word": I love the nouns of a time in a place, where a sack once was a poke and native skag was junk glass not junk and junk was just junk not smack and smack entailed eating with your mouth open, and an Egyptian one-eye was an egg, sunny side up, and a nation sack was a flannel amulet, worn only by women, to be touched only by women, especially around Memphis. Red sacks for love and green for money… C.D. Wright's most recent volume, One With Others, was a National Book Award finalist. Among her many honors are the Griffin Poetry Prize and a MacArthur Fellowship. She teaches at Brown University and lives outside of Providence, Rhode Island.