Honey, Baby, Sweetheart -- Deb Caletti
If you like YA contemporaries about Girls and Life and Love and Coming Into Their Own, then holy crap, read this book. I swear that I'm not only saying this because the main character's mom is a librarian and the family dog is a Jack Russell. I swear! It was a great book. I refused to take a Buffy break until I had finished it—Josh just had to wait.
Ruby McQueen is a Quiet Girl:
Reckless is the last thing you'd call me. Shy is the usual word. I'm one of those people doomed to be known by a single, dominant feature. You know the people I mean—the Fat Girl, the Tall Guy, the Brain. I'm the Quiet Girl. I even heard someone say it a few years ago, as I sat in a bathroom stall. "Do you know Ruby McQueen?" someone said. I think it was Wendy Craig, whose ankles I had just whacked with too much pleasure during floor hockey. And then came the answer: "Oh, is she that Quiet Girl?"
Things change when she meets a Bad Boy. And he is a Bad Boy—there's no Nice-Girl-brings-about-redemption going on in this book. She realizes pretty early on just how bad he is, and tries to cut off contact with him. Ruby starts trying to fill her time with other things, to try to fill the time. Her very understanding librarian mother starts bringing Ruby to the meetings of the library's octogenarian book group.
The Casserole Queens, as they call themselves, are a riot. They've named themselves after the group of widows that prey on new widowers by feeding them until they get a new ring—they are, for the most part, a gossipy, loud, hilarious bunch.
Without giving away too much, just know that there's an escape from a nursing home, a road trip, and a long-lost love involved.
Also, Ruby's brother rules. As does the dog, Poe. And the minister down the street, who's dealing with a mystery vandal who keeps switching the letters around on the church's message board. And Ruby's best friend, who doesn't get a lot of screen time, but makes the most of it when she does:
"Just remember that high school is a big game where the blond, perfect ones sit on the sideline while everyone else crosses a mine field trying not to look stupid. In the real world, this all reverses." She sounded a bit like my mother. "Being blond and perfect prepares you for nothing in life but being married to a brain-damaged former football jock named Chuck and having a license plate holder that says FOXY CHICK."
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Amazon | Indiebound.