Let's add a little suspense, comedy and romance to the summer!
Kelly Oram wrote her first novel at age fifteen--a fan fiction about her favorite music group, The Backstreet Boys, for which her family and friends still tease her. She's obsessed with reading, talks way too much, and likes to eat frosting by the spoonful. She lives outside of Phoenix, Arizona with her husband, four children, and a cat named Mr. Darcy.
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-->Ellie’s Sweet 16 is a summer of firsts.
First serial-killing stalker…?
Hockey-obsessed tomboy Eleanor Westley has never been the object of a guy's affection before. So when the hottest boy she's ever seen moves in across the street and starts treating her like she's the center of his universe, naturally she's going to be a little skeptical. But everything starts to make sense when girls who look just like Ellie start dying all around the city. Obviously the new guy is the killer, and of course he only likes her because he wants to slice her into tiny pieces. Right?
The more Ellie gets to know Seth the more she's convinced he's a psychopathic killer. Problem is, he's the sweetest psychopathic killer she's ever met. Not to mention he's brutally hot. No matter how hard she tries, she can't help but fall for him.
From the best selling young adult author of The Avery Shaw Experiment and V is for Virgin, comes a lovable, quirky, and wildly funny coming of age contemporary romance about a girl, her strange but hot neighbor, and the crazy summer that changed both of their lives forever.
Will Ellie find true love?
Or will her summer of firsts turn out to be a summer of lasts?
Grab your copy here:
I leapt back and flattened myself against the wall just as Seth knocked on my window. “Ellie, c’mon, I know you’re in there. I also know you have a weakness for ice cream. Come hang out with me and we’ll go to Dairy Queen. My treat.”
My mouth watered at the thought of a Heath Blizzard and I nearly opened my window. Except... How did he know about my ice cream addiction?
“At least tell me you found my note.”
Note? What note?
Seth sighed and then, as if reading my thoughts, said, “Look at the high scores on Skateboard Pro 2000.”
Of course I checked. How could I not? I was admittedly relieved when I saw my score still at the top of the list, but the next score was only one point below it and the following eight each one point lower than the next. As baffled by the impossibility of the scores as I was, I was even more surprised by the names claiming them—or words, rather. The top ten names on the high score list now read:
I blinked. Then I read the message again. Then I had to sit down. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, and definitely the closest thing to a romantic gesture I’d ever received. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but while my heart was thumping my brain was only processing fear. How had he done this? And when?
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