RELEASE DAY w/EXCERPT - YA ROM-COM - JUST ANOTHER MEET CUTE by Jenn P. Nguyen

Just Another Meet Cute

by Jenn P. Nguyen

Publication date: May 20th 2025

Genres: Comedy, Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult

BLURB

Boy saves girl stuck on a disastrous hike. What could go wrong? So. Much.

Just Another Meet Cute is the joyful and funny story about what happens when you realize you’re dating the wrong twin.

When seventeen-year-old Nina Riley gets saved by a super cute Knight-in-Faded-Khakis just as she lands in an embarrassingly ‘ahem’ sticky situation during the most disastrous hike known to man, she wasn’t exactly looking for a meet cute. She really just needed some peace and quiet from her complicated family. Unfortunately, he disappears before she can properly thank him or get his number. All she has is his name (Ian Nguyen) and a navy jacket with a dog keychain, a gym card, and laundromat receipt. But a meet cute is a meet cute. And armed with years of watching Veronica Mars and a techy cousin, it should be simple enough for Nina to find the boy of her dreams, right? But when she finally tracks him down, he’s different than she thought ―right down to his name. Ryan is just as cute as she remembers, but the chemistry isn’t there like it was before. After a few dates, she meets Ryan’s family: his sweet grandma, his enthusiastic sisters, and his twin brother ―​​​​​​​―Ian.

Goodreads

Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks

EXCERPT

“My name’s Ian, by the way.”

“Nina.”

He knelt down beside my bleeding leg and dug around in the box. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks. It’s short for Nina.” After the words popped out of my mouth, I wanted to smack myself on the forehead for sounding so stupid.

Thankfully, Ian mistook my word vomit for humor or charm or something and laughed. He pulled a couple wet wipes from a pack and cleaned my leg and cut as best as he could before shoving them into a small plastic bag. Then he spread some white ointment on the cut and unwrapped a couple of Band-Aids. His fingers were long and moved quickly like this wasn’t his first time. After he put two Band-Aids on my cut, he pressed the edges down to make sure it was firm.

This time I felt the warmth of his fingertips on my skin, and the goose bumps that rose on my arms in response.

Rubbing my arms to make them go away before he noticed, I gently stood up. “I’m okay now. Thanks.”

“Are you sure? Your face still looks kind of red.”

Embarrassed, I adjusted the sunglasses until they fell lower on my face like a shield. “No, it’s just—the sun. It’s hot today.”

He glanced up at the overcast sky. It was so thick with clouds that you could barely see the sun anywhere.

“It was sunny earlier,” I said quickly. “Like scorching sunny.”

“Yeah, Texas’s weather is pretty unpredictable.” Still crouched down, Ian leaned to the left to pack everything up. When he was done though, he still didn’t immediately get up. Instead, Ian stared at something on the rock behind me. I followed his gaze and groaned out loud in horror. There was a dark butt-shaped smudge right where I had been sitting a few seconds ago.

With a puzzled expression, his eyes slid up and down my legs—which sounds way dirtier than it was. I almost wished it was dirty so at least I’d know he was thinking of me in a cute-girl-I’m-attracted-to way instead of a weirdo-girl-he-regretted-bumping-into way.

I knew the exact moment when my embarrassing situation clicked in his head. It was almost like his brown eyes cleared—as impossible as it was. My first instinct was to bury my face in my arms and flee, but my feet were frozen in one spot.

To my surprise, Ian didn’t immediately run away. Instead, he stood up, still digging in his bag. His head ducked down until I couldn’t see his face anymore. Especially as one hand messed with his hat, tugging it side to side. I could see that his ears were flaming red though. “Well, I think I have something else in here to help you with . . . that. If you—you need it.”

“What do you—” I glanced down at my legs and his pink face. Until my eyes finally landed on the tampon and pad he held out in his hand.

Oh. My. God.

 

Author Info

Jenn Nguyen fell in love with books in third grade and spent the rest of her school years reading through lunchtime and giving up recess to organize the school library. She has a degree in business administration from the University of New Orleans and still lives in the city with her husband. Jenn spends her days reading, dreaming up YA romances, and binge watching Korean dramas all in the name of 'research'.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter

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TOUR w/EXCERPT - YA CONTEMPORARY ROM-COM - TWEET CUTE by Emma Lord

TWEET CUTE

by Emma Lord

January 21^st 2020

Wednesday Books

Rom-Com, Young Adult

A fresh, irresistible rom-com from debut author Emma Lord about the chances we take, the paths life can lead us on, and how love can be found in the opposite place you expected.

The Book Junkie Reads . . . Review of . . . TWEET CUTE . . . This was just that cute. Well-written, fresh, light, relateable, and realistic. Pepper and Jack were character with their own issues while facing high school and the dramas of life brought on with that. There was growth within both the characters. The read was enjoyed from beginning all the way to the end. 

BLURB

Meet Pepper, swim team captain, chronic overachiever, and all-around perfectionist. Her family may be falling apart, but their massive fast-food chain is booming — mainly thanks to Pepper, who is barely managing to juggle real life while secretly running Big League Burger’s massive Twitter account. 

Enter Jack, class clown and constant thorn in Pepper’s side. When he isn’t trying to duck out of his obscenely popular twin’s shadow, he’s busy working in his family’s deli. His relationship with the business that holds his future might be love/hate, but when Big League Burger steals his grandma’s iconic grilled cheese recipe, he’ll do whatever it takes to take them down, one tweet at a time. 

All’s fair in love and cheese — that is, until Pepper and Jack’s spat turns into a viral Twitter war. Little do they know, while they’re publicly duking it out with snarky memes and retweet battles, they’re also falling for each other in real life — on an anonymous chat app Jack built. 

As their relationship deepens and their online shenanigans escalate — people on the internet are shipping them?? — their battle gets more and more personal, until even these two rivals can’t ignore they were destined for the most unexpected, awkward, all-the-feels romance that neither of them expected.

Buy Link: https://read.macmillan.com/lp/tweet-cute/

Early Praise:
"Tweet Cute delivers in every possible way: a perfect enemies-to-lovers romance, a whip-smart plotline, and endearingly real characters. I devoured it.” - Francesca Zappia, author of Eliza and Her Monsters

"Sweet and fun! An adorable debut that updates a classic romantic trope with a buzzy twist." - Jenn Bennett, author of Alex, Approximately and Serious Moonlight
“A witty rom-com reinvention for the Twitter age, Tweet Cute pairs delicious online rivalry with deeply relatable insights on family pressure and growing up. This fresh, funny read had us hitting ‘favorite’ from page one.” - Emily Wibberley and Austin Siegemund-Broka, authors of Always Never Yours and If I’m Being Honest

EXCERPT

JACK

“Look.” I glance into the classroom, where Ethan is thoroughly distracted by Stephen and no longer keeping an eye on us. “I may have . . . overreacted.”

Pepper shakes her head. “I told you. I get it. It’s your family.”

“Yeah. But it’s also—well, to be honest, this has been kind of good for business.”

Pepper’s brow furrows, that one little crease returning. “What, the tweets?”

“Yeah.” I scratch the back of my neck, sheepish. “Actually, we had a line out the door yesterday. It was kind of intense.”

“That’s . . . that’s good, right?”

The tone of my voice is clearly not matching up with the words I’m saying, but if I’m being honest, I’m still wary of this whole overnight business boom. And if I’m being honest, I’m even more wary of Pepper. If this really is as much of a family business as she claims it is—to the point where she’s helping run the Twitter handle, when even I know enough about corporate Twitter accounts to know entire teams of experienced people get paid to do that—then she might have had more of a hand in this whole recipe theft thing than she’s letting on.

The fact of the matter is, I can’t trust her. To the point of not knowing whether I can even trust her knowing how our business is doing, or just how badly we need it.

“Yeah, um, I guess.” I try to make it sound noncommittal. My acting skills, much like my breakfast-packing skills, leave much to be desired.

“So . . .”

“So.”

Pepper presses her lips into a thin line, a question in her eyes.

“So, I guess—if your mom really wants you to keep tweeting . . .”

“Wait. Yesterday you were pissed. Two minutes ago you were pissed.”

“I am pissed. You stole from us,” I reiterate. “You stole from an eighty-five-year-old woman.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, but still. You’re them, and I’m . . . her. It’s like a choose your fighter situation, and we just happen to be the ones up to bat.”

“So you’re saying—you don’t not want me to keep this up?”

“The way I see it, you don’t have to make your mom mad, and we get a few more customers in the door too.”

Pepper takes a breath like she’s going to say something, like she’s going to correct me, but after a moment, she lets it go. Her face can’t quite settle on an expression, toeing the line between dread and relief.

“You’re sure?”

I answer by opening the container she handed me. The smell that immediately wafts out of it should honestly be illegal; it stops kids I’ve never even spoken to in their tracks.

“Are you a witch?” I ask, reaching in and taking a bite of one. It’s like Monster Cake, the Sequel—freaking Christmas in my mouth. I already want more before I’ve even managed to chew. My eyes close as if I’m experiencing an actual drug high—and maybe I am, because I forget myself entirely and say, “This might even be better than our Kitchen Sink Macaroons.”

“Kitchen Sink Macaroons?”

Eyes open again. Yikes. Note to self: dessert is the greatest weapon in Pepper’s arsenal. I swallow my bite so I can answer her.

“It’s kind of well-known, at least in the East Village. It even got in some Hub Seed roundup once. I’d tell you to try some, but you might steal the recipe, so.”

Pepper smiles, then—actually smiles, instead of the little smirk she usually does. It’s not startling, but what it does to me in that moment kind of is.

Before I can examine the unfamiliar lurch in my stomach, the bell rings and knocks the smile right off her face. I follow just behind her, wondering why it suddenly seems too hot in here, like they cranked the air up for December instead of October. I dismiss it by the time I get to my desk—probably just all the Twitter drama and the glory of So Sorry Blondies getting to my head.

“One rule,” she says, as we sit in the last two desks in the back of the room.

I raise my eyebrows at her.

“We don’t take any of it personally.” She leans forward on her desk, leveling with me, her bangs falling into her face. “No more getting mad at each other. Cheese and state.”

“What happens on Twitter stays on Twitter,” I say with a nod of agreement. “Okay, then, second rule: no kid gloves.”

Mrs. Fairchild is giving that stern look over the room that never quite successfully quiets anyone down. Pepper frowns, waiting for me to elaborate.

“I mean—no going easy on each other. If we’re going to play at this, we’re both going to give it our A game, okay? No holding back because we’re . . .”

Friends, I almost say. No, I’m going to say. But then—

“I’d appreciate it if even one of you acknowledged the bell with your silence,” Mrs. Fairchild grumbles.

I turn to Pepper, expecting to find her snapping to attention the way she always does when an adult comes within a hundred feet of disciplining her. But her eyes are still intent on me, like she is sizing something up—like she’s looking forward to something I haven’t anticipated yet.

“All right. No taking it personally. And no holding back.”

She holds her hand out for me to shake again, under the desk so Mrs. Fairchild won’t see it. I smile and shake my head, wondering how someone can be so aggressively seventeen and seventy-five at the same time, and then I take it. Her hand is warm and small in mine, but her grip is surprisingly firm, with a pressure that almost feels like she’s still got her fingers wrapped around mine even after we let go.

I turn back to the whiteboard, a ghost of a smirk on my face. “Let the games begin.”

 

Author Info

Emma Lord is a digital media editor and writer living in New York City, where she spends whatever time she isn’t writing either running or belting show tunes in community theater. She graduated from the University of Virginia with a major in psychology and a minor in how to tilt your computer screen so nobody will notice you updating your fan fiction from the back row. She was raised on glitter, grilled cheese, and a whole lot of love. Her sun sign is Hufflepuff, but she is a Gryffindor rising. TWEET CUTE is her debut novel. You can find her geeking out online at @dilemmalord on Twitter.

Social Links:  @dilemmalord (Twitter/Instagram)

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