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I listened to Sandra Brown's Mirror Image. I had been curious about Sandra Brown, wondering if her books would be too much romance for me. This one was, but not so much that I would rule out trying another title sometime.
The narrator was Dick Hill; I've liked his narration of other books, but he just didn't fit here. Even though there were mostly male characters, the protagonist was a woman and a woman's voice would have worked better.
The setup here was similar to that in Cornell Woolrich's novel I Married a Dead Man (made into one of my favorite movies, No Man of Her Own): two women are in a crash (here, a plane crash), one dies, one lives and is misidentified as the other. Here, the misidentified woman finds herself in the middle of an assassination plot aimed against her "husband," a senatorial candidate. Can anyone say Lifetime movie? But it was OK and certainly didn't pretend to be great literature.
This book seemed to be set in the present, until I was pulled up short by scenes in which characters didn't have phones and were popping tapes into VCRs and had to use snail mail rather than e-mail. Then I looked at the pub date: 1990. Eeek!
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