by
Maria Santoferraro
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what is
NO SONGS FOR MEN? Question #1: Off the top of your head, can you name a song that has a man’s name as the title? Answer: If you did, I’m impressed— because 92.2% of those surveyed did not! Question #2: Now if I ask you to name a song with a girl’s name as the title, I bet you can come up with something really quick… Answer: Veronica, Jane, Michelle, Angie, Layla, Maria—there are tons of great songs named after women, and I’m sure it was no problem for you to come up with a few! Why is this? Well, I think most women know the reason. We just never feel that inspired to write a love song about a man. Maybe at the beginning of a relationship we’ll pen a few verses, but eventually most men will break our heart, don’t put down the toilet seat, get love handles, annoy the crap out of us, and then there goes the hit song. The only songs I can think of with men’s names are really horrible like “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” or “Ben,” which by the way was about a rat. In the new web series No Songs for Men, all of the female characters have the names of popular rock songs from the 70’s and 80’s with a woman’s name as the title: Beth, Amanda, Jenny, Sara, and Beth’s sister, Christian. These talented women are all members of the indie rock band sensation Code Cherry! It’s The Runaways meets Sex and the City as we follow the music, sisterhood, and liaisons of these five incredible women as they compose the reasons why there really are no songs for men.
episode 3
Two Sides To every story Have you ever read a review in the newspaper about a rock concert or a new rock album and thought to yourself, Who is the lucky shit that gets paid to do this for a living? Well, that lucky shit would be me. Except for the hate mail and occasional death threat I receive when someone can’t take the truth (hey, I call ’em as I hear ’em), it really is a dream job. I stay out all night, sleep all day, get paid to listen to great music, and meet lots of interesting characters along the way. Yesterday was a typical day—I slept until early afternoon, got up and ventured to Lakewood to check out my favorite music store, found a new place to plop down my computer to write and grab a meal before I checked out Code Cherry’s sets at the Mercury later that evening. Along the way I met the enigmatic beauty named Roxanne. The only thing to greet me as I opened the door to Vintage Vinyl was the sound of The Beatles’ “Let It Be” being played on the piano. I love the soulful,
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expressive sound of the piano in a rock song, and after listening for a while, I detected that there were two at work on the keyboard. The chords in the right hand were delivered by an experienced pianist as the single left-hand notes were awkwardly pounded out by a novice. Combined it provided a refreshingly innocent take on what I consider to be one of the greatest piano rock ballads. Lennon hated the song for its apparent Christian overtones, but I revered the hymnlike quality of the song. Eddie, the shop owner, was not around, so I began perusing the extensive collection of vintage rock ’n’ roll LPs. I’m a bit of a music purist, and listening to an album on vinyl is, I believe, the only way to get the accuracy and richness of sound originally intended by the artist. I’m glad to see a few hipper bands out there embracing the technology and rolling out their new releases on vinyl. As the music class progressed, the piano rock anthem hit parade continued, and I was treated to “Right Now” by Van Halen, the melodic sounds of Alicia Keys’ “If I Ain’t Got You,” and a
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hilarious rendition of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”****, made complete by the angelic voice of the young student shouting out a chorus of operatic Mama Mias. When the two pianists finally emerged from the lesson, I applauded. “That was one kick-butt version of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ I won’t soon forget,” I said as I reached my hand out to give the little girl a high five. “I bet you were the one playing all the hard parts, right?” “No, that was Miss Barclay; she can play anything she hears by ear and with both hands!” “Wow, both hands…that is quite impressive.” “Well, I have to give some props to my accompanist, the great Maggie Mae,” Roxanne said, pointing to the cute little girl holding her sheet music tight to her chest and grinning from ear to ear. She was wearing blue jeans, a Ramones Tshirt, and couldn’t be more than ten. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in the store. I hope you found what you were looking for all right.” “As a matter of fact, I did; just don’t check my backpack on the way out,” I said jokingly. “Good, I hope you took some of the country albums. We can’t give those away.” “Thank you,
Roxanne, I mean Miss Barclay. I promise to practice my scales real hard. I’ll have them licked by next week for sure.” Maggie reached in her pocket and pulled out a wad of money. “Here, my mom told me to give you this and to tell you to keep the change. She thinks you deserve a little extra hazard pay.” Roxanne took the money, grinned, and looked over at me with a look of amusement. “Maggie, you have the early makings of an Alicia Keys or a Lady Gaga. I’m sure they started playing when they were just as young as you and practiced real hard to get where they are today. You tell your mother I think your piano playing is something special.” “I’m gonna leave out the Lady Gaga part. I don’t think my mom would like her,” Maggie said as she rushed to cram all of her piano books into her backpack, came around the counter to give Roxanne a big hug, and then ran out of the store as she waved to both of us. “I hope you know what a great influence you are on that girl,” I said to Roxanne. “What do you mean?” “Because of you, that little girl loves playing the piano. You should have seen
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her face light up when you told her she could be a future Alicia Keys. She’s hooked on music for life.” “Well, I think it’s important to encourage students to work hard and reach their goals. Young girls especially need that affirmation.” “That’s quite the play list for a piano class. Does her mother know you’re teaching her to play ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ or does she think her daughter’s being schooled in Beethoven?” “Hey, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ is pure genius—part ballad, part opera, part heavy rock—it covers all the musical bases. Hell, I think it’s even better than the classics. I only teach these kids with music I’d want to play and music I know they’ll want to play; otherwise, what’s the point?” “I couldn’t agree more. Where were you when my mom made me take piano in the second grade?” “You play the piano?” “Not anymore. I dropped out in third grade; couldn’t take the scales.” I was desperately trying to be charming and keep the conversation going at the same time. I’m not good at multitasking. “So, now you just enjoy eavesdropping on unsuspecting piano students? How much did you hear?” “It wasn’t eavesdropping. Your playing drifted out into the store, and I’m incapable of ignoring good music when I hear it. That’s how I make my living.” “I knew you looked familiar. You’re that guy who writes music reviews in the paper. Steve Woods. Right?” “In the flesh. So, what do you think? Am I better-looking in person or print, Miss Barclay?” Roxanne paused and gave me a good once-over, taking what seemed an unusually long time to form her response. “In person. You look older…but more distinguished.” It was obvious that the latter part of her answer was delivered as an apparent afterthought to soften the blow. And there you have it, folks. Steve Woods shot down by yet another beautiful woman. “I set myself up for that one real good, huh? Nice meeting you, Roxanne. I’ll just hobble back to the classic vinyl section
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now and mind my own business.” “Well, let me know if I can help you find anything,” she said in an apologetic tone. My wounded ego and I walked away, pretending to be interested in the records while sneaking occasional glances of Roxanne. She struggled to keep her shoulder-length, curly blond hair from falling into her eyes and was wearing a low-cut floralprint dress that seemed oddly prim for a woman who could wail on the electronic piano. Nice breasts, great smile, musically adept—she was the perfect woman. Too bad she thought I was an old fart. I knew I should just leave her alone, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to give it one more shot. “Hey, there is something you can help me with,” I said. “I came up here to see a band play later tonight at the Mercury Club. Can you recommend a good place to hang out for a while to get some dinner and a drink?” “What band are you going to see?” “Code Cherry. Ever hear of them?” “Aren’t they that local all-girl band?” “Yeah, they’re really talented…got a new CD coming out tonight, so I’m going to take a listen and write up a review. Their lead singer Beth and I go way back.” “That’s a dream of mine, you know, to be in a female rock group.” “Well, you should check them out tonight.” “Wish I could but I gotta work.”
“They won’t come on before ten. Doesn’t the shop close before that?” “Yeah, but I have another job after this.” “That’s too bad because I was going to buy you a drink if you came.” “Well, I don’t accept drinks or dates from customers, so I’ll have to pass.” “I’m not a customer yet. I just shoplift country music albums, so maybe you could bend the rules.” Roxanne gave me an exasperated look and then pointed down the street. “No thanks, but I can recommend a good place for you to grab something to eat. If you go up a block and turn left down Twenty-Second Street, there’s a really great local dive called Ray’s. They have great burgers and a pretty amazing beer selection.” “If I turn left, isn’t that residential down there?” “Yeah. Ray’s is in an old shop front nestled right in the middle of the neighborhood. All the locals hang there. I’m not supposed to share it with outsiders, but I want to make up for the old comment.” “Wow, an insider tip; thanks for sharing.” “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell them I sent you.”
The laptop had been fired up, and, with beer in hand, I had settled into a window table at Ray’s, plugging away on some overdue reviews for the weekly
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music section. While I was trying to come up with the words to describe the hard-driving rock-and-blues-infused set I heard last night, I noticed a leggy woman walking quickly down the other side of the street. I recognized the blond hair immediately. It was Roxanne. She passed right by the window, and just a few houses down, she walked down a driveway and up a set of steps to the upper unit of a duplex. It wouldn’t hurt if I kept an eye on her apartment while I worked. I’d just sit here and relax, write, and stalk the woman I just met. There’s nothing wrong with a little healthy stalking, right? My waitress Ruby and I had gotten friendly, and she had just delivered my second beer when I noticed some activity coming from Roxanne’s apartment. She was in the front window, lighting a bunch of candles. They were all different colors—white, red, pink, and purple—and they cast a brilliant glow from the window. Why would she light candles if she had to leave? She must have lied to me about going to work. Just a few minutes later, a man walked up the stairs to Roxanne’s apartment, knocked on the door, and she greeted him at the door with a handshake. Who was this man? If he was her husband, he would have walked right in. If he was a boyfriend, she wouldn’t have shaken his hand. Why had she lied about working? Hello, Steve, I thought, she lied because she was blowing you off. Relax, order dinner, write your review, and stop stalking this woman, for God’s sake.
An hour passed before I noticed action again at Roxanne’s place. The man who came in before was leaving, and while he walked down the steps, another man was walking up. The first man’s clothing looked disheveled, and his hair was messed up. The two men stopped midway on the steps, talked for a moment, fist-pumped each other, and then continued on their way. Man Number Two knocked on the door, leaned back on the landing, and waited a few minutes before Roxanne came to the door, greeted him, and let him in. What the hell was going
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on at Roxanne’s, and what kind of work was she doing? Why were there men coming in and out of her apartment fistpumping each other? And why did she have all those candles in her window? My mind began to swim in the possibilities, but one thought came crashing through: Could this woman be a hooker? “So, how you doin’ over here? Need another drink?” Ruby asked and brought me back from my disturbing thoughts. “Yeah, I could use another one.” “What are you working on?” “I’m a writer for the Cleveland Times…” and delivered my usual whatdo-you-do-for-a-living spiel with not much enthusiasm. I was more interested in doing some fishing. I needed to get a confirmation on her line of work without sounding like a complete asshole. “Hey, do you know a girl named Roxanne? I think she lives around here.” “Yeah, she’s great. Comes in all the time.” “I heard her play the piano today. She’s really talented.” “You’re lucky.
Sometimes she’ll play the piano for Ray and me while we’re cleaning up. Ray’s been trying to get her to play in here for years. We have an open-mike night on Tuesdays, but she always says no. Says she’s too afraid to play in public.” “So, I hear she stays pretty busy with her work.” “Oh yeah, she’s got a steady stream of customers almost every night. Men, women, Ray goes to her regularly; says she’s great.” “Women go to her?” “Hell yeah. Women aren’t afraid to be touched by another woman. Why, are you afraid to be touched by another guy?” “Excuse me, I think that question is a little personal,” I said jokingly. This line of questioning was not working. How do you come right out and ask if someone is a whore? My mother always told me to never ask a woman if she was pregnant, and I’m pretty sure asking if someone was a whore would fall along the same line. For the next hour questions began forming in my mind. How could such a gorgeous, talented piano teacher be a hooker? Why did she do it? How could she do it? I grew impatient as I waited to see who would show up at the end of the hour and decided I would walk over to the apartment to get a closer look. I settled up with Ruby and walked to Roxanne’s apartment, looking 6
for a place to hide out. For the second time tonight, I asked myself what the hell I was doing. As I approached the apartment, the second man opened the door, and I heard the sexy sound of Parisian-style music drifting down the steps. I pretended I was heading toward the apartment, and at the approach I met up with the guy and asked, “Hey, how was your appointment with Roxanne? I’ve never done this.” The second man got a big grin on his face and answered, “Dude, you are in for a treat. She has great hands. You’ll feel incredible when she’s done with you.” “Can’t wait,” I said while hesitating on the lower landing of the stairs. I couldn’t let Roxanne see me stalking her like this. “Shit, I left my wallet in my car. I better run and get it,” I said as I quickly walked down the street. When I got to the corner, I looked back one last time at Roxanne’s window. She was blowing out the candles; I guessed her “office” was closed for the night.****
Have you ever gone to a concert to see a musician play and thought to yourself, Wow, what a great job. I would love to get paid to play music? Well, that lucky person should be me, if I weren’t so damn afraid. I’ve always dreamed of being a musician, but until I ever get up the nerve to pursue that dream, I spend my days teaching children to play the piano and my nights helping my clients relax and feel good. I worry every month that I might not make enough to pay my rent, but I’m grateful that I still get to make my living using my hands and creative talents, and sometimes I enjoy seeing the naked men. Yesterday was not a typical day. I met this strange man who has turned my world upside down. I taught students all day at Vintage Vinyl, got hit on by this stranger, and then worked on clients all night. I’m always getting hit on, so it didn’t faze me, but this guy kept staring at me, and I thought for a while he might try to follow me home, so I stalled until he left the shop. He did pique my interest, though, and despite the fact I was ready for bed, I found myself cleaning
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myself up and putting on a new dress to go out to hear the band he talked about. He said nice things about me, so if I ran into him, I figured I could hang out with him for a while. An ’80s-style punk-laced bounce of a danceable cut by Code Cherry greeted me as I walked into the Mercury Club. The club was packed and the crowd was really into the band. The five women up on the stage had boundless energy, and it looked like they were having a blast playing together. I didn’t look around to see if there was anyone I knew. I just figured I’d hang out in the back of the club, enjoy the music, and hopefully go unnoticed as I focused in on the keyboard player to check out her style. “Hey, Roxanne, you came,” Steve said as he maneuvered through a group of girls. “Come join me. I’ll buy you that drink I promised.” “I can’t believe I’m here either. I’m really exhausted but you intrigued me today when you told me about Code Cherry, and I’m really glad I came. They rock.” “Well, sit down, relax, and enjoy. What can I get you to drink?” “I’d really love a nice glass of white wine. Chardonnay if they have it. If not, a beer will do.” “I’ll see what I can do,” he said and headed for the bar to
fetch the drinks. Steve carefully maneuvered through the crowd back to our table, drinks in tow. Code Cherry was still playing, so we sat together in silence, enjoying the music. I didn’t really want to talk, so the music was the perfect shield. Steve was a fidgety guy. He kept pulling out his note pad to take notes, and I could feel his eyes looking over at me, checking me out. I wanted to tell him that he really should update his profile picture he used in the paper—he had a lot more hair then, and it was kind of like the deceptive people I heard about that post outof-date pictures of themselves up on Match.com.**** “So, how did you learn how to play the piano like that? I bet your parents spent a fortune on piano lessons.” “Nope, my grandmother taught me for a few years, and the rest I picked up by listening to the radio. I’ve been playing the piano and loving it since I was four years old.” “So, you never had any formal training?” “I’m one of those people that can hear a song and then play it on the piano. My grandma told me it was a gift.” “You are gifted. Why haven’t you ever got yourself into a band…made your dream come true?” “Oh, I could never play in public. I get too nervous.” “Well, that’s a shame because I think you’ve got a lot of talent.” “I would throw up before I even hit the stage; that’s how bad my stage
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**** Online Dating fright**** is. Can we change the subject?” “Okay. How was your work tonight?” The pitch of Steve's voice got a little higher than normal; I think I made him nervous. “Exhausting, just a bunch of men needing adjustments.” “How long have you been doing…adjustments?” “I’ve been at it since I was nineteen. It pays the bills.” “So, how much do you charge?” “Well, depending on what services you want, it can range from seventy-five to a hundred fifty dollars an hour.” “Wow, that’s reasonable. I bet you keep busy.” “Really, you think my prices are too low?” Steve didn’t answer my question. He just sat there with a pained look on his face, like I had asked him a really difficult question he needed to think about. “Unfortunately, my neighbors aren’t really excited about me running this business out of my apartment, so I really have to control the flow in and out. You should call and make an appointment sometime. It might take a while to get in. I have a loyal clientele.” I was rambling, trying to keep the conversation going, and reached across the table to grab the pad he had been taking notes on and scribbled my phone number. “I’m all out of cards right now, so there’s my number.” Steve slowly picked up the note pad and just stared at the number. He had a queer look on his face that I couldn’t quite make out. Not the typical reaction I get when I hand out my phone number. “So, what do you think of Code Cherry?” he asked, obviously changing the subject. What the heck had I said or done to make this guy so edgy? “I’m enjoying the way they mix together so many musical styles. Each song is different but it still feels cohesive.” “I’m not sure when you got here, but I think you missed the announcement. They won a contest
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held by Rock On! magazine, and they’re going to be part of the Rock On! Fest tour. They’ll be touring all over the country with an amazing lineup. Looks like Beth is trying to make her way over to our table. I hope she does. I’d like you to meet her.” “What’s she like?” I had to admit, I was envious of these girls and their success, and I wanted to know everything about them. “She’s a tough cookie. Been through a lot with her husband but hasn’t let that stop her. She’s one of the best songwriters I know and has worked really hard to get Code Cherry where they are today.” Steve stopped talking and switched gears as he got up to give Beth a hug as she approached the table. “Congratulations on the tour. It’s going to be great exposure for the band.” Steve went through the formalities of introducing me to Beth, and I reached across the table to shake her hand.
My heart was racing and a cold sweat was starting to form at the back of my neck—my usual nervous tendencies when I meet someone new or intimidating. “I love your voice. Did you really write all those songs?” “Thanks, yeah, I write most of them except a few I collaborated on with my sister Christian. She’s the guitar player in the band. And Amanda, the drummer, she wrote a few.” “You’re kidding, right? Ha-ha, your sister Christian! I love that song. It has a great piano intro?” “Let’s just say my parents had a musical sense of humor. Apparently, it was a big hit when my mom was pregnant, and she thought it would be funny for me to have a sister named Christian****.” “So, when do you head out on tour?” “At the end of July, but we’ve got our work cut out for us until then. We got some unexpected news yesterday.” “What happened?” Steve asked. “You know that Jenny is a designer, right? Well, she got accepted into the apprentice program for La Moda. She really agonized over the decision, but in the end, she picked life in Paris over a smelly tour bus with Code Cherry. Can you believe it?” “No. Please tell me
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you’re kidding. What the hell are you going to do?” “We just posted an open call for a new keyboard player online today, and we’re gonna hold auditions. I’m freaking out because you know it won’t be easy to get someone that good that fast, plus be able to drop everything to go on tour with us. Can you help us get the word out?” “Sure, you bet, but I think you should take a listen to Roxanne here. She plays a mean ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ on the piano.” “Really? Have you ever played in a band?” Beth asked. “No, and, Steve, be quiet,” I said, reaching over to swat him on the arm. What an asshole, I thought. Why are you throwing me under the bus like that? “I’m not good enough to play with Code Cherry,” I said, with very hot cheeks. “Well, Roxanne, I happen to trust Steve’s judgment on music, so my bet is you’re good enough to play with us. If you change your mind, come to the audition. It’s a week from Monday at seven, right here at the Mercury.” “What should she prepare for the audition?” Steve asked. “Steve, cut it out. I’m not auditioning.” I whacked him really hard on his deltoid this time, right at an angle I knew from experience would render deep, intense pain. “Beth, do you have an extra CD I can take? I’d like to listen a few times before I write up my story,” Steve said. “Sure, drop by before you leave, and let me know if you need any quotes for the story. Thanks again for being here; I wanted to make sure some respectable press was here tonight.” Beth winked at Steve and walked away from the table. “Hope to see you at the audition, Roxanne. Don’t be shy; I promise we won’t bite.” When the second set was over, Steve went to retrieve his CD, and I dodged out the side door without saying good-bye. I didn’t want to talk about auditions, I just wanted to disappear. “Hey, this isn’t the greatest of neighborhoods. Please let me walk you home,” Steve said as he caught up to me. “Really, Steve, that’s okay. I’m a big girl and I can make it home just fine.” “This is not open to discussion. I insist on walking a lady
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home in the dark.” you see a chance like this, you’ve got to It was beautiful outside, one of those take it.” first crisp nights of spring when you I looked back at him and all of a walk outside and don’t need a coat. If sudden he got that queer look on his you live in northeast Ohio, it’s one of face again and I thought he might try the best feelings you can have. to kiss me. I started walking up the “Roxanne, I really think you should steps backward to avert any attempts at try out for Code Cherry,” Steve said. a kiss. “Thanks for the drinks and for “You don’t know anything about me, turning me on to Code Cherry. Call me Steve, so that’s really easy for you to say. sometime if you want to make an I’d never have the guts to get up on a appointment.” stage, and I don’t exactly have my nights free to traipse off and play in a band.” “I just think you should give yourself a lot more credit; you’re really talented.” I’m sure I was blushing again; I wasn’t used to hearing people talk about my piano playing. I didn’t know if deserves its ow I was good enough and didn’t may be the first have the self-confidence to sister, Christian find out. We reached the stairs up her first at to my apartment when he persuaded her took my hand and looked Before she cou me straight in the eyes. they played, sh “Roxanne, of driving sound Cherry are in violation de Co m fro why don’t ls ga the If se Saturday n r taking too long to relea you take a anything, it should be fo d Mercury Club a three-year hiatus for lea k too It . CD st we ne few nights off, ir the i- that the band w n the band’s latest artist practice, get singer Beth Stanley to pe k popular all-da ms. Fused with heartbrea c cally eclectic rock anthe your confilush musical genre put on by Ro the s, on oti em lex mp and co dence up, and d punk social media c ssly blend rock, ska, an tle or eff ps -u sh ma show up for that g other promine eratic rap for a recordin with a little dash of op de audition? When Pick the Lineu Code Violation, Co
ith well worth the wait. W olved yet again, and the ev s Cherry’s rock style ha know how to mix it up girls have proven they y ll putting out the catch experimentally while sti enjoys. tunes their loyal fan base r riffs on Violation is Burning through the guita rter. Every generation lead guitarist Christian Ca
Rock On! Fe frocks and Fe ing thirty-thr fans. I’m call will be the b the Billboard
“Can I call you for a piano lesson instead? I’d like to take on those scales again.” “Sure, whatever floats your boat.” “Here, take this. I want you to have it,” he said as he handed me the Code Violation CD. “Listen to them; use your gift.” Someone actually thought I’m good enough to play in a band. What the hell was he thinking? I’d never make it for more than a minute onstage in front of a crowd without peeing my pants. I took the CD and turned to walk up the steps. Was it time to face my fears?
mised Beth I will happen, I’ve already pro ’t esn do ion rat ne ge s y update my wn guitar god, but thi left of my hair and finall s at’ wh off t cu kid s Beth’ t to get a guitar goddess. e.) r, picked profile pictur ita rises Beth gu n, was born to play the Cleveland, the group comp in ed rm Fo , es ac br rter in percussion), Christian Ca ls, age five, and while still ca vo ad (le y nle Sta n the band. ls, bass guisister into letting her joi Sara West (backing voca r), ita gu ad (le bs clu ls), and at the n (drums, backing voca uld legally drink a beer yto Pe da an Am ), tar ny ative, hard and band fashionista Jen he had created an innov current keyboard player . nd ba nounced she is leaving the all her own. an t jus o wh , co an Bi e ow at Th morous nationnight’s CD-release sh bly, she is forgoing the gla va lie be Un nt me ce un no the House was capped off by the an a cushy gig in Paris with for r tou s bu de wi the as part of hope the girls can will be hitting the road oda. I wish her well and M La of als tiv fes solo in k roc t in time for her searing sax ay circuslike alternative en em lac rep a d fin a d ls wage hook up with Rock ck On! magazine. The gir Me.” I suggest the band ick “P e fiv t ou at be d appearance campaign like no other an David Bruce for a guest er lin ad he ! On u Yo saxos in the is is a guy who can rip the Th ent alternative rock band s. set ir the g rin du spot on the ed by a group up contest to win a coveted t be upstaged or outdress no d an e on ph ble na ir fashio st tour. They’ll load the k musicians. a gruel- of beautiful roc for ly Ju band in s thi s bu the to on enders lly should try to catch the rea u Yo w ne of llions they break out ree-city tour, reaching mi next few months before the e” M ick “P t cu it, ble ling it now; the dancea ous. If anyone deserves fam t ge d an ke ma ll wi and from C-town band’s first certifiable hit these hardworking gals it (If . tes ina lm cu r d Top Ten as the tou
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Maria Santoferraro was born and raised in Northeast, Ohio. After graduating from Marietta College with a degree in advertising, and her entrepreneurial debut of CareerGear, she went on to pursue a glamorous career in the field of advertising, managing major soft drink, condom, fast food and diaper brands until she decided to shuck it all and create No Songs For Men. She loves living in Ohio with her husband, but is working out a plan to split her time and work and play remotely from either a tropical island, a ski slope, Paris or wherever they want. Hey, a girl can dream! This is her first web series. Visit the author’s website at: www.mariamedia.net Book design by JAS Graphics jasgraphics.biz Character illustrations by Renee Lethbridge Design Services www.reneelethbridge.com Published by MariaMedia, LLC Copyright © 2010 by Maria Santoferraro Live, Laugh, Rock and Return to MariaMedia
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