My Review:Growing up under his punk rocker dad’s spotlight, eighteen-year-old Luke Greenly knows fame and wants nothing to do with it. His real love isn’t in front of a crowd, it’s on the page. Hiding his gift and secretly hoarding songs in his bedroom at night, he prefers the anonymous comfort of the locally popular podcast he co-hosts with his outgoing and meddling, far-too-jealousy-inspiringly-happy-with-his-long-term-boyfriend twin brother, Cullen. But that’s not Luke’s only secret. He also has a major un-requited crush on music blogger, Vada Carsewell.
Vada’s got a five year plan: secure a job at the Loud Lizard to learn from local legend (and her mom’s boyfriend) Phil Josephs (check), take over Phil’s music blog (double check), get accepted into Berkeley’s prestigious music journalism program (check, check, check), manage Ann Arbor’s summer concert series and secure a Rolling Stone internship. Luke Greenly is most definitely NOT on the list. So what if his self-deprecating charm and out of this world music knowledge makes her dizzy? Or his brother just released a bootleg recording of Luke singing about some mystery girl on their podcast and she really, really wishes it was her?
In More Than Maybe, Erin Hahn’s swooniest book yet, Luke and Vada must decide how deep their feelings run and what it would mean to give love a try.
I haven't loved a YA as much as I love this one in a long time -- I often miss that swoon and anticipation in a lot of YA I've read lately and I am here to tell you that this one has it all! There was no warm up, no waiting in this book for the good parts to being. Instead, there was a lot of longing but in the most swoony and perfect way. More than that, however, the story, the pacing, the characters, the music -- all of it fell in this almost cosmic way. I know I will return to this book and I credit it with reminding me that I do love YA.
More Than Maybe comes out later this month on July 21, 2020, and you can purchase HERE. If you want a YA with all the swoons, you will love this one!
She beams a smile and grabs my hand and tugs me toward her. She does a slow spin under my arm, and my other hand finds her waist, prompting her to turn and draw out with our arms spread between us. She doesn't let go, instead curling into me and fitting. The music in my ears slows, and I slow to match. She doesn't object. Her arms find their way around my neck, and I rock us together. She closes her eyes, and her lashes flutter over the tiniest, most perfect constellation of freckles spread across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
Well.
That's it.
There's absolutely no coming backing from this. Science has shown, once you start noticing constellations in freckles, you're fucked.
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