Following a car accident that claims the life of her passenger, Marissa, June Parker stumbles upon a list that Marissa had written entitled "20 Things to Do By My 25th Birthday" and is compelled by both guilt and a sense of setting things right to complete the list for Marissa, struggling to complete a variety of different goals before the deadline while learning more about her own life in the process.

Zusatztext Fresh and fun to read . . . The details of [June's] life are set out with a deft! light touch. Boston Globe "Clever and winning! Smolinski's novel will have readers rooting for June as they eagerly turn the pages to keep up with her progress on the list." Booklist "Smolinski crafts a believable heroine! and her chipper carpe-diem message may have readers devising their own Top 20s. . . . Sweet." Kirkus Reviews "Cheers for Jill Smolinski! who has transcended the chick lit category by giving us a heroine who really tries to make a difference in this world. What a concept! I loved this book- its humor and its humanity. You will! too." Jane Heller! author of Some Nerve and Lucky Stars "Instantly engaging! original! and funny! Jill Smolinski's new novel charmed me from the first page. Put this on your list: you won't be sorry!" Isabel Rose! author of The J.A.P. Chronicles Informationen zum Autor Jill Smolinski Klappentext "You'll be hooked by this charming story. . . . Smolinski gives us a quick-witted heroine . . . with just the right amount of romance and a tad of suspense. Richmond Times-Dispatch After a car accident in which her passenger, Marissa, dies, June Parker finds herself in possession of a list Marissa has written: "20 Things to Do by My 25th Birthday. The tasks range from inspiring (run a 5K) to daring (go braless) to near-impossible (change someone's life). To assuage her guilt, June races to achieve each goal herself before the deadline, learning more about her own life than she ever bargained for.Chapter 1 Next on the list: Kiss a stranger. "How about him?" Susan pointed to a guy so rakishly handsome, it was odd to see him in a downtown Los Angeles bar wearing a shirt and tie instead of modeling underwear in front of a camera, where he clearly belonged. "Let's be realistic." "Why? It's just a kiss." Easy for her to say--she wasn't the one doing the kissing. It was Thursday after work, and the Brass Monkey was hopping. Susan and I had already been at the bar for an hour, casing the joint and sipping two-dollar margaritas that were, sadly, much too weak to help me muster my courage. "What do you think--on the lips?" I asked. "Definitely, but tongue is up to you." After much debate, I settled on three guys at a cocktail table across the bar. Mid- to late thirties and dressed in casual business attire, they seemed harmless, which was their primary appeal. Here goes. I hoisted myself bravely from my chair as if I were about to march forth into battle. My plan was to go up to their table, explain my predicament, and hope one of them would take pity on me and volunteer for the job. In the event that that didn't work--well, I didn't want to think about what would happen if it didn't work. I suppose it would involve skulking away in humiliation. I swigged down the last of my drink, took a breath, and strode to the table. The three guys looked at me with open curiosity. A woman approaching who wasn't a waitress was an interesting sight indeed. Plus I'd sort of slutted up for the occasion. I wore a snug suit over a camisole, and I'd gone to town with the eyeliner. My hair was doing its usual insane tumble of waves and curls to my shoulders. "Hi! I'm June!" I said perkily. After a moment, perhaps debating if I was going to try to sell them something, one of them said, "I'm Frank, and this is Ted, and Alfonso." "Nice to meet you!" And then I plunged in. "I came over here because I was wondering if you could help me? I have this list of things I need to do." I held up the list, Exhibit A, which was handwritten on a sheet of ordinary notebook paper. "One of the things on it is that I need to kiss a stranger. So I was wondering--" "You want to kiss one of us?"...

8220;Fresh and fun to read . . . The details of [June’s] life are set out with a deft, light touch.”

–Boston Globe

"Clever and winning, Smolinski’s novel will have readers rooting for June as they eagerly turn the pages to keep up with her progress on the list."
–Booklist

"Smolinski crafts a believable heroine, and her chipper carpe-diem message may have readers devising their own Top 20s. . . . Sweet."
–Kirkus Reviews

"Cheers for Jill Smolinski, who has transcended the chick lit category by giving us a heroine who really tries to make a difference in this world. What a concept! I loved this book- its humor and its humanity. You will, too."
–Jane Heller, author of Some Nerve and Lucky Stars**

"Instantly engaging, original, and funny, Jill Smolinski's new novel charmed me from the first page. Put this on your list: you won't be sorry!"
– Isabel Rose, author of ***The J.A.P. Chronicles*

Autorentext

Jill Smolinski

Klappentext

"You'll be hooked by this charming story. . . . Smolinski gives us a quick-witted heroine . . . with just the right amount of romance and a tad of suspense.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch

After a car accident in which her passenger, Marissa, dies, June Parker finds herself in possession of a list Marissa has written: "20 Things to Do by My 25th Birthday.” The tasks range from inspiring (run a 5K) to daring (go braless) to near-impossible (change someone's life).

To assuage her guilt, June races to achieve each goal herself before the deadline, learning more about her own life than she ever bargained for.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Next on the list: Kiss a stranger.

"How about him?" Susan pointed to a guy so rakishly handsome, it was odd to see him in a downtown Los Angeles bar wearing a shirt and tie instead of modeling underwear in front of a camera, where he clearly belonged.

"Let's be realistic."

"Why? It's just a kiss."

Easy for her to say--she wasn't the one doing the kissing.

It was Thursday after work, and the Brass Monkey was hopping. Susan and I had already been at the bar for an hour, casing the joint and sipping two-dollar margaritas that were, sadly, much too weak to help me muster my courage.

"What do you think--on the lips?" I asked.

"Definitely, but tongue is up to you."

After much debate, I settled on three guys at a cocktail table across the bar. Mid- to late thirties and dressed in casual business attire, they seemed harmless, which was their primary appeal. Here goes. I hoisted myself bravely from my chair as if I were about to march forth into battle. My plan was to go up to their table, explain my predicament, and hope one of them would take pity on me and volunteer for the job.

In the event that that didn't work--well, I didn't want to think about what would happen if it didn't work. I suppose it would involve skulking away in humiliation.

I swigged down the last of my drink, took a breath, and strode to the table. The three guys looked at me with open curiosity. A woman approaching who wasn't a waitress was an interesting sight indeed. Plus I'd sort of slutted up for the occasion. I wore a snug suit over a camisole, and I'd gone to town with the eyeliner. My hair was doing its usual insane tumble of waves and curls to my shoulders.

"Hi! I'm June!" I said perkily.

After a moment, perhaps debating if I was going to try to sell them something, one of them said, "I'm Frank, and this is Ted, and Alfonso."

"Nice to meet you!" And then I plunged in. "I came over here because I was wondering if you could help me? I have this list of things I need to do." I held up the list, Exhibit A, which was handwritten on a sheet…