After a disastrous first year of high school, Rose Zarelli is determined to become an all-new and improved version of herself. Improved how? Well, Rose is setting some ground rules. This year she absolutely most definitely will :
Having unexpectedly landed a role in a movie being shot at her high school, Jessie discovers that movie stars and the film industry are not as glamorous as she once thought.
Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady is Florence King's classic memoir of her upbringing in an eccentric Southern family, told with all the uproarious wit and gusto that has made her one of the most admired writers in the country. Florence may have been a disappointment to her Granny, whose dream of rearing a Perfect Southern Lady would never be quite fulfilled. But after all, as Florence reminds us, "no matter which sex I went to bed with, I never smoked on the street."
High school is never easy . . . and when you are suffering from a hubris complex and are convinced that the gods on Olympus have focused their attention on you, things are sure to get even harder. In this smart and sassy debut novel, the spotlight is on Jan Miller-a self-labeled "Not It" girl struggling to find out what and who she wants. From her best friend, who is an It girl, to her parents, who are way too embarrassing to her crushes (who always seem to be in the right place at the wrong time), there is never a dull moment for Jan.
From the USA TODAY bestselling author of Sweet Thing and Nowhere But Here comes a love story about a Craigslist “missed connection” post that gives two people a second chance at love fifteen years after they were separated in New York City. To the Green-eyed Lovebird: We met fifteen years ago, almost to the day, when I moved my stuff into the NYU dorm room next to yours at Senior House. You called us fast friends. I like to think it was more. We lived on nothing but the excitement of finding ourselves through music (you were obsessed with Jeff Buckley), photography (I couldn’t stop taking pictures of you), hanging out in Washington Square Park, and all the weird things we did to make money. I learned more about myself that year than any other. Yet, somehow, it all fell apart. We lost touch the summer after graduation when I went to South America to work for National Geographic. When I came back, you were gone. A part of me still wonders if I pushed you too hard after the wedding… I didn’t see you again until a month ago. It was a Wednesday. You were rocking back on your heels, balancing on that thick yellow line that runs along the subway platform, waiting for the F train. I didn’t know it was you until it was too late, and then you were gone. Again. You said my name; I saw it on your lips. I tried to will the train to stop, just so I could say hello. After seeing you, all of the youthful feelings and memories came flooding back to me, and now I’ve spent the better part of a month wondering what your life is like. I might be totally out of my mind, but would you like to get a drink with me and catch up on the last decade and a half? M
In the sequel to the #1 New York Times bestseller Confessions of a Murder Suspect, James Patterson keeps the confessions coming breathlessly as Tandy Angel delves deeper into her own dark history. Wealthy young women are being murdered on Manhattan's exclusive Upper West Side, and the police aren't looking for answers in the right places. Enter Tandy Angel. The first case she cracked was the mystery of her parents' deaths. Now, while she's working to exonerate her brother of his glamorous girlfriend's homicide, she's driven to get involved in the West Side murder spree. One of the recent victims was a student at Tandy's own elite school. She has a hunch it may be the work of a serial killer, but the NYPD isn't listening to her . . . and Tandy can't ignore the disturbing fact that she perfectly fits the profile of the killer's targets. Can she untangle the mysteries in time? Or will she be the next victim?!--EndFragment--
People in Merit, Wisconsin, always said Jimmy was . . . you know. But people said all sorts of stupid stuff. Nobody really knew anything. Nobody really knew Jimmy. I guess you could say I knew Jimmy as well as anyone (which was not very well). I knew what scared him. And I knew he had dreams—even if I didn't understand them. Even if he nearly ruined my life to pursue them. Jimmy's dead now, and I definitely know that better than anyone. I know about blood and bone and how bodies decompose. I know about shadows and stones and hatchets. I know what a last cry for help sounds like. I know what blood looks like on my own hands. What I don't know is if I can trust my own eyes. I don't know who threw the stone. Who swung the hatchet? Who are the shadows? What do the living owe the dead?
You know what I want? I want to be able to have fun wherever I am. I want to laugh. All. The. Time. I want to have one holiday every year with my family where we have no plans and nowhere else to be. I want to watch less television and read more books. I want to be able to whinge about never being able to be alone any more, then, after someone organises a hotel room voucher for me, I want to spend the evening eating chips (that I don't like) from a cylinder and missing my children to the point of tears. From weight to wee, children to crap dates, nothing is off limits for Chrissie Swan, self-confessed 'over-sharer'. Celebrity, friendship, love, being a working mum, 'having it all' and the general chaos of life - Is It Just Me? is Chrissie at her hilarious, candid and fearless best. 'Chrissie writes what we're all thinking. Her honesty and humour are a gift. And a relief!' Mia Freedman 'Smart, sassy, funny. Chrissie is the best girlfriend everyone should have. And with this book, now they can.' Matt Preston