Just My Luck by Jennifer Honeybourn

Just My Luck

Just My Luck by Jennifer Honeybourn
English | 2019 | Young adult | ePUB | 7.3 Mb

Just My Luck : Funny and fresh, Jennifer Honeybourn’s Just My Luck follows a teen who has to get her good luck back by returning items she stole—all while falling for a hotel guest.

Marty has terrible luck and she knows exactly why. While working as a housekeeper at the ritzy Grand Palms hotel in Maui, Marty made it a habit to steal small items from the guests. What better way to stick it to the rich snobs they have to clean up after? Marty knows how to turn her luck around—she just has to return all of the items she stole.

When Marty meets Will, a new guest who is staying for the summer, she does the one thing she always promised herself she’d never do—fall for an out-of-towner. But Will’s special, different from the other guests at the hotel. Maybe Marty’s luck is finally turning around.

After a string of misunderstandings and accidents threaten Will and Marty’s relationship, Marty has to find a way to fix her luck for good—or say goodbye to Will forever.

“She looks like a Libby,” Leo says.

“If you say so.” I straighten the bed’s immaculate white duvet and glance around to make sure everything is perfect for whoever is checking in next. The people who can afford to stay in the Grand Palms are rich—not just regular rich, but incredibly, unbelievably rich—and they have super-high standards. Although the room is simple—white and airy, like being inside a cloud—everything in here easily costs more than my family makes in a year.

The room still smells like tuna, but hopefully no one will notice. I pick up the empty tin, and Leo and I leave the room. He follows me down the hall, still cooing to the cat. The carpet is so thick, I can’t hear our footsteps. When we reach the elevator, he sighs and passes Libby to me before punching the call button.

“Don’t just dump her, okay, Marty?” he says.

I nod, but I’m not sure why he thinks I’ll have any say in the matter. He’d be better off talking to my mom himself, but I think he’s scared of her. Most people are. My mom is the floor supervisor, but from the way she acts, you’d think she runs the entire hotel.

Leo pats the cat one more time, then ambles off down the hall. Libby squirms in my arms like she wants to run after him, and I tighten my grip. The last thing I need is for her to jump out of my arms and take off. I’ve already wasted too much time trying to catch her.

The elevator dings and the mirrored doors slide open. I stand back as two guys around my age step out.

I flinch. Great. Guests my age are the worst. There’s nothing more awkward than having to serve someone who could be sitting behind you in history class. Most of the time we ignore each other—only for different reasons: me, because I’m quietly dying inside; them, because they don’t really see me. After all, I’m just the help.

“We need to talk to the locals,” the guy with a messy black pompadour says to his friend, a scrawny kid with closely cropped dark hair. “They’ll know where the best waves are.”




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