by Alex Tully
Genre: YA Romance
Release Date: June 13th 2016
Summary from Goodreads:
While most seventeen year-olds work part-time delivering pizzas or whipping up frappuccinos, Brady O’Connell’s job is a little less conventional. Helping his dad with the family ‘business’ is a responsibility he doesn’t take lightly, especially when thousands of dollars are being exchanged. There are rules to be followed, timetables to be kept. But when his best friend Jay gets backstage concert tickets, and business interferes with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet their favorite band, Brady decides to break the rules, just one time.
And one time is all it takes to send his life spinning out of control. When an envelope full of cash ends up in the wrong hands—specifically in the hands of a pretty red-head named Vivienne—things get messy in a hurry. Where Vivienne goes, a whole lot of chaos seems to follow.
But sometimes…chaos is a beautiful thing.
From the author of Hope for Garbage comes another fast-moving, emotionally-charged tale, full of plot twists that will keep you guessing, and true-to-life characters you will root for. Most of all, this is a story of first love—crazy, chaotic first love—love that hits us hard, and never lets go.
“Will you tell me who the notebook belongs to?” Brady asked.
It wasn’t the question she was expecting. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “Oh, the notebook…”
“You know what? Sorry. Never mind. It was a dumb thing to ask.”
“No, it’s okay, really.” She would’ve told him anything at that point. Literally, anything.
Sitting in that confined space with him had stirred up feelings inside of her she’d never felt before—ever. As he talked, she couldn’t look away.
His damp, messy hair, curled up on the ends, hung slightly over to the side. When he smiled, his light brown eyes sparkled and little creases formed around his perfect mouth. She admired the smooth lines of his neck leading down to his surprisingly broad shoulders and chest, now exposed by the thin, wet t-shirt that clung to him. Unlike her pale and freckly skin, he had the kind of skin that tanned dark—his arms still had color from the summer. And his Brady-soap-scent, whatever the hell it was, permeated the air inside the small space they shared. She would bottle it up and take it with her if she could.
Yep, she would tell him anything.