Oh, how I wish the Strawberry Graham Dessert I made this weekend looked like this picture.

Not that it didn’t taste good. At this very moment, I’m battling the urge to return to the kitchen and eat a little more. I mean, what’s not to like about strawberries, whipped cream and a graham cracker crust?

Kind of like this week’s book, The Wishing Hill. Author Holly Robinson peopled her story with characters you either love to love or love to hate.

It all starts when Juliet, a 30-something expat artist in Puerto Vallarta, gets a phone call from her brother.  Mother had a bad fall, he explains, and somebody needs to stay with her when she’s out of the hospital.

You should know that Mother is a diva. Known as Desiree, she stars in local plays (Why do you think she named her daughter Juliet?). But she brings the diva act home, too. Drama, blame, opinions —

“I doubt Juliet’s got a red cent. . . . That Michael [Juliet’s ex] was some Lothario musician on a motorcycle. I blame her running off with him on Juliet’s hippie father, of course. She went to live with Hal during her last year of high school—over my strident objections.”

(Or maybe Juliet bolted because of Desiree’s strident and interfering ways? But I digress.)

“Then Michael lured her down to a country where hardly a soul speaks English and the cockroaches are big enough to saddle. . . . I always told Juliet that she could work for money all her life or marry it in five minutes, but she was never a practical girl.”

Oh, and Desiree grows a Southern accent or drops into a stage whisper when its suits her diva purposes.

I loved Wishing Hill. It’s a story with secrets, with pretty scenery, and with romance (but not enough to make me embarrassed to read it). Oh, and a couple improbable plot points, too, but I still had a good time.

Especially with Desiree.

Keep a Kleenex nearby. Desiree will ask you for it when she approaches you with her next scheme.