Awkwardland. It's where I live. And I'm the president, mayor, and sole citizen.
Reese Jackson is living her safest life. This polymath is tired of trying to fit in with a small town that never knows what to do with her. Her absentee family may have forced her into dorm life for her own good, but she goes from her classes to her room and back—no parties, no dates, and no drawing attention.
Until one noisy night, when Reese gets kicked out of her dorm.
Fitz Moreland is living his okayest life. He’s on his own to pay for college, but he’s scraping by with an athletic scholarship and free rent with a friend. If he can keep it together, he’s on track to graduate with a useful degree, especially now that he’s finally said goodbye to his drama-loving ex-girlfriend.
Until one night, when she gets him kicked out of his house.
What happens when there’s one single room left for rent in the entire town and two people who desperately need it? A merrymaking, money-seeking landlord arrives and throws them into a series of ridorkulous challenges to compete for it, of course. It’s the dorky duckling versus the BMOC.
The winner will get a place to live—but the loser may just forfeit their heart.
Generally ranks in the .com store of Amazon in the top 10,000 since release.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It’s normal for my roommate’s antics to wake me up in the dead of night.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She’s always noisy. Talking. Shrieking with her friends. Playing music too loud. Fooling around with a variety of jocks and frat boys. It’s like she never sleeps. Since we became dormmates last year, I’ve adapted to the noise.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Mostly.
Noise in the middle of the night . . . that is normal. What’s not normal is my bed shaking in an unmistakable, rhythmic pattern. The thick blanket over my head and noise-canceling headphones aren’t going to be enough tonight, not when I’m being jostled awake.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Even I can’t pretend to ignore this. Slowly, I peer over the top of my comforter. Abby’s lamp on her nightstand is aglow, highlighting the top half of the room, but I can’t see any signs of life from this vantage. Her bed is empty. And yet my bed is still shaking. Lifting my head a microinch, I search the rest of the room. There. On the floor. The jerky movements belong to a large pair of Converses thrusting against the frame of my bed. It must be Abby and . . . someone. I don’t recognize the guy on top.
All I can see is the back of a dark head. He’s shirtless and his pants are halfway down his legs, bare bottom exposed. And hairy.
Ew.
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Maria Toro
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