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Monday, December 26, 2016

First Page Mondays: Let It Snow Three Holiday Romances: The Jubilee Express by Maureen Johnson, Cheertastic Christmas Miracle by John Green, The Patron Saint of Pigs by Lauren Myracle

After reading a few John Green books and liking them a lot, it was obvious I would pick this up. Saw this at a street shop and brought it home just two days before Christmas. So here's a quick look at the first page of Let It Snow by John Green, Maureen Johnson and Lauren Myracle.


The Jubilee Express by Maureen Johnson

It was the night before Christmas.

Well, to be more precise, it was the afternoon before Christmas. But before I take you into the beating heart of the action, let's get one thing out of the way. I know from experience that if it comes up later, it will distract you so much that you won't be able to concentrate on anything else I tell you.

 My name is Jubilee Dougal. Take a moment and let it sink in.

See, when you get it up front, it's not that bad. Now imagine I was halfway through some long story (like I'm about to be), and I dropped that one on you. "By the way, my name is Jubilee." You wouldn't know what to do next.

 I realize Jubilee is a bit of a stripper name. You probably think I have heard the call of the pole. But no. If you saw me, you'd get the idea pretty quickly that I'm not a stripper (I.......

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Cheertastic Christmas Miracle by John Green

JP and the Duke and I were four movies in to our James Bond marathon when my mother called home for the sixth time in five hours. I didn't even glance at the caller ID. I knew it was Mom. The Duke rolled her eyes and paused the movie. "Does she think you're going somewhere? There's a blizzard."

 I shrugged and picked up the phone.

 "No luck," Mom said. In the background, a loud voice droned on about the importance of securing the homeland.

 "Sorry Mom. That sucks."

 "This is ridiculous!" she shouted. "We can't get a flight to anywhere, let alone home." They'd been stuck in Boston for three days. Doctors' conference. She was getting kind of despondent about the whole Christmas-in-Boston thing. It....

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The Patron Saint of Pigs by Lauren Myracle

Being me sucked. Being me on this supposedly gorgeous night, with the supposedly gorgeous snow looming in five-foot drifts outside my bedroom window, double-sucked. Add the fact that today was Christmas, and my score was up to triple-suck. And add the sad, aching, devastating lack of Jeb, and ding ding ding! The bell at the top of the Suckage Meter couldn't ring any louder.

 Instead of jingle bells, I had suckage bells. Lovely.

 Well, aren't you a merry little figgy pudding I said to myself, wishing Dorrie and Tegan would hurry up and get here. I didn't know what figgy pudding was, but it sounded like the sort of dish that sat cold and alone at the end of the buffet table because no one wanted it. Like me. Cold and alone and probably lumpish.

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- Debolina Raja