Sixteen-year-old Liza Johnson takes fangirl to a whole new level of crazy when she decides to take dating advice from her literary hero: Jane Austen.
With the help of her best friends, Liza sheds her ancient-speak and complete Austen wardrobe for something a bit more modern in an attempt at finding her very own Mr. Darcy.
Enter Will, the new kid and Liza’s Darcy incarnate. Add her BFF’s ex to mix and the sexy Brit who kisses with an accent, and Liza is in trouble.
So, what’s a girl to do? Without her mom to go to relationship advice, Liza turns to the only person she can truly trust with matters of the heart via her mother’s copy of COMPLETED WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN.
It’s too bad Austen’s heroines have never played Spin the Bottle or Seven Minutes in Heaven. Liza’s determined to find her true Austen-esque happy ending, but if she can’t trust herself instead of books, she just might end up in her own tragic love story.
I heard it as I moved closer. Each step raised the tiny hairs all over my body until I tingled. I fought the urge to turn around, but Janie would kill me. Again.
The humming pitched higher. My heart detonated in my chest. Just around the corner and…I was there.
I tugged my backpack tighter and held the straps out in front so I felt the security of it on my back. The monkeys were crazy today, jumping, screaming, laughing. All of them, the Geeks, Preps, Loners, Freaks, Smarties, Drama-Ramas, and Jockheads—all high—all with serious issues of ADHD and all put on this earth at the same time, designated to this lunchroom at this very minute, to bug the crap out of me.
My skin itched.
I skirted into the room a little more. Just in time to catch this little, lovely, mind-blowing comment from Christopher Kronin, Head Jock. “Hey man, did you check out Miranda today? I swear I saw some cleeeeeavage!” Or, as I like to call him, Head Tool in the Jerkoff Parade.
Wow. I’m sure that’ll be on our next science quiz. Question 22: Was or was not Miranda Ames displaying her cleavage last Wednesday? Trick Question! Correct answer: When isn’t Miranda Ames displaying massive amounts of cleavage?
DingDingDing. Insert cheeky, red makeupy, overenthusiastic host face. “My god, Liza Johnson, you are the smartest thing since sliced bread.” Insert my feigned embarrassment and tiny Miss America wave. “Thank you. Thank you.”
I smirked, wishing I’d saved that one for Janie. Too late. They never came out the same when spoken out loud. If Janie lived in my head with me, it would make things so much easier.
A tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality. I turned and looked down into the eyes of the mind-blower himself. “Um hello, freak? Why are you standing in the middle of the lunchroom smiling to yourself? You’re not about to go all Carrie on us, are you?” When was Christopher going to give it up already? I hadn’t said anything yet about his side escapades. He laughed his big, jock laugh. One of those mocking ones that really made your hand ball up into a fist and fantasize about your knuckles leaving pretty pink marks on his face.
Instead, I said, “Um, s-sorry,” and skittered away. I picked up the pace; dodged monkeys who already carried empty trays, and scanned heads for streaks of pink before they decided to fling their own feces at one another.