Search results for ""Author Julie Hammerle""

Still smarting after her best friend stabs her in the back, 17-year-old Kiki Nichols is inclined to spend all her time watching reruns of her favourite cult TV show, Project Earth, nerding out on Twitter with the other fans, and writing tragically corny song lyrics about love gone wrong. Her only chance to attend a music school is to win a coveted scholarship to Krause University at their pre-college summer voice program. Kiki's always had a natural talent for singing. So she's pretty confident she'll be a shoo-in for one of those scholarships. But it turns out that every other high school singer there is just as good, and maybe even better, than she is. And there are these Footloose extreme rules: like being in bed by curfew; singing only classical opera; and percussionists being at the bottom of the dating hierarchy - which is totally depressing for Kiki after her Phantom-of-the-Opera-esque basement run in with the nerdy secret drummer she can't stop thinking about. As Kiki begins to make friends, and (gasp!) actually prefer the company of real people to TV characters and Twitter avatars, her eye slips from the prize. And it doesn't help that there is someone in the program reporting their misdeeds to the head of the department. Kiki is finally living, but it may be at the expense of her scholarship and the future she wants more than anything.

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Don't drink and text. Even on the cusp of forty, I had to learn that the hard way. After discovering my best friend, who I was supposed to grow old and single with, got engaged, I drowned my loneliness in one too many Old Fashioneds and woke up with thirty-nine responses from every available man in my phone. Yup, I even texted my plumber.and he turned me down. Apparently, my liquor-infused text said that while I don't need a man, maybe I'd be down for a constant sidekick for movies, plus-one invites, and dinner on the table after my grueling shifts as a concierge doctor-till death do us part.and was anyone in? Through the absolute mortification of thirty-seven rejections, shockingly, I realize two men have said yes. Behind Bachelor Door #1 is Rob, my old high school crush: the comfortable, dependable boy-next-door. Behind Bachelor Door #2 is Darius, the exciting, flashy news reporter about to hit it big. Does this mean I'll have to get out of my yoga pants and actually go on date

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