Informationen zum Autor Jesse Q. Sutanto Klappentext "A delightful, hilarious, captivating love letter to Indonesia, and coming of age in a large meddlesome family, and the thrill of finding your person where you least expect it!"--Ali Hazelwood, New York Times bestselling author of The Love Hypothesis A laugh-out-loud YA rom-com about a girl who's whisked from LA to her mother's native Indonesia to get back to her roots and finds herself fake-dating the son of one of the wealthiest families there, from the bestselling author of Dial A for Aunties and The Obsession After Sharlot Citra's mother catches her in a compromising position, she finds herself whisked away from LA to her mother's native Indonesia. It'll be exactly what they both need. Or so her mother thinks. When George Clooney Tanuwijaya's father (who is obsessed with American celebrities) fears he no longer understands how to get through to his son, he decides to take matters into his own hands. To ensure that their children find the right kind of romantic partner, Sharlot's mother and George's father do what any "good" parent would do: they strike up a conversation online, pretending to be their children. When the kids find out about their parents' actions, they're horrified. Not even a trip to one of the most romantic places on earth could possibly make Sharlot and George fall for each other. But as the layers peel back and the person they thought they knew from online is revealed, the truth becomes more complicated. As unlikely as it may seem, did their parents manage to find their true match after all? Leseprobe Chapter 1 Sharlot Bradley, I'm ready. I want to do it. I look in the mirror and try again. I want to have, uh, to have se-- SHAR, YOU WANT JUICE? Mama's voice, loud enough to be heard all the way in the next city, is like an electric jolt straight to my already-shot nerves. No, Mama, I call back down. I give myself a little shake. Bradley, it's time. Okay, that sounds way too ominous. Bradley, I-- OKAY, I MAKE YOU JUICE. For crying out loud. I said I don't want any! But she can't hear me over the sound of the blender. Argh. Another deep inhale. Okay. Bradley-- COME DRINK YOUR JUICE. I slam my fists on the dresser and stomp down the stairs. I told you I didn't want any, I snap. Mama frowns as she pushes the glass of bright-orange carrot juice toward me. But I already make. Don't waste food. There are children all over the world who are starving. Why did you even ask me if you weren't going to listen anyway? I should know better than to get angry, but seriously. She's always doing this, and I am not in the mood for juice. Shi Jun, you are being so ungrateful right now. It's the Chinese name that sets me off. You might think naming me something that looks like a cross between shallot and harlot is the worst thing that a mother could possibly do. But nope. There's worse. Much worse. Don't get me wrong, naming your only child Sharlot is pretty unforgivable in my book. But whenever I bring it up, Ma just tuts and says, Mama tuh was wanting 'Charlotte.' Who knows why all these English names are not spelled the way they sound? Not like Indonesian names. Indonesian names sound exactly like they are spelled. Kartika. Hartati. All of them spell exactly like how they sound. Not spelled Car-tee-car. Kar-ti-ka! Easy, not like crazy English names. Why give me an English name if you can't even spell English words? I'd yell (by the time we reach the part of the conversation where I weaponize my name, we're usually yelling). Because I want what is best for my daughter! she'd yell. Everything I do is to give you a better life. And now here she is, using my Chinese name, even though she knows I hate it. And for go...

Autorentext

Jesse Q. Sutanto

Klappentext

**"A delightful, hilarious, captivating love letter to Indonesia, and coming of age in a large meddlesome family, and the thrill of finding your person where you least expect it!"--Ali Hazelwood, New York Times bestselling author of The Love Hypothesis

A laugh-out-loud YA rom-com about a girl who's whisked from LA to her mother's native Indonesia to get back to her roots and finds herself fake-dating the son of one of the wealthiest families there, from the bestselling author of Dial A for Aunties and The Obsession**

After Sharlot Citra's mother catches her in a compromising position, she finds herself whisked away from LA to her mother’s native Indonesia. It'll be exactly what they both need. Or so her mother thinks.  

When George Clooney Tanuwijaya's father (who is obsessed with American celebrities) fears he no longer understands how to get through to his son, he decides to take matters into his own hands. 

To ensure that their children find the right kind of romantic partner, Sharlot's mother and George's father do what any "good" parent would do: they strike up a conversation online, pretending to be their children.

When the kids find out about their parents’ actions, they’re horrified. Not even a trip to one of the most romantic places on earth could possibly make Sharlot and George fall for each other. But as the layers peel back and the person they thought they knew from online is revealed, the truth becomes more complicated. As unlikely as it may seem, did their parents manage to find their true match after all?

Leseprobe

Chapter 1

Sharlot

“Bradley, I’m ready. I want to do it.” I look in the mirror and try again. “I want to have, uh, to have se--”

“SHAR, YOU WANT JUICE?” Mama’s voice, loud enough to be heard all the way in the next city, is like an electric jolt straight to my already-shot nerves.

“No, Mama,” I call back down. I give myself a little shake. “Bradley, it’s time.” Okay, that sounds way too ominous. “Bradley, I--”

“OKAY, I MAKE YOU JUICE.”

For crying out loud. “I said I don’t want any!” But she can’t hear me over the sound of the blender. Argh. Another deep inhale. Okay. “Bradley--”

“COME DRINK YOUR JUICE.”

I slam my fists on the dresser and stomp down the stairs. “I told you I didn’t want any,” I snap.

Mama frowns as she pushes the glass of bright-orange carrot juice toward me. “But I already make. Don’t waste food. There are children all over the world who are starving.”

“Why did you even ask me if you weren’t going to listen anyway?” I should know better than to get angry, but seriously. She’s always doing this, and I am not in the mood for juice.

“Shi Jun, you are being so ungrateful right now.”

It’s the Chinese name that sets me off. You might think naming me something that looks like a cross between “shallot” and “harlot” is the worst thing that a mother could possibly do. But nope. There’s worse. Much worse.

Don’t get me wrong, naming your only child Sharlot is pretty unforgivable in my book. But whenever I bring it up, Ma just tuts and says, “Mama tuh was wanting ‘Charlotte.’ Who knows why all these English names are not spelled the way they sound? Not like Indonesian names. Indonesian names sound exactly like they are spelled. Kartika. Hartati. All of them spell exactly like how they sound. Not spelled Car-tee-car. Kar-ti-ka! Easy, not like crazy English names.”

“Why give me an English name if you can’t even spell English words?” I’d yell (by the time we reach the part of the conversation where I weaponize my name, we’re usually yelling).

“Because I want what is best for my daughter!” she’d yell. “Everything I do is to give you a better life.”

And now here she is, using my Chinese name, even though …