Except for the fact that they all go to Clifton Springs High School, Sicilee Kewe, Maya Baraberra and Waneeda Huddlesfield have little in common. Until a gorgeous new boy arrives, that is. Now—probably for the first time in their lives—the three girls want the same thing: Cody Lightfoot. A transplant from California, Cody is not just good-looking, he's also charming, friendly, and smart. Before long, he's starring in the daydreams of nearly every girl at CSHS. Since he can clearly have anyone he wants, the only question is—who will he choose?

Sicilee knows she can turn Cody's head. She's got the looks, the fabulous wardrobe, the star power that comes with being one of the most popular kids in school. What she doesn't have is the effortless cool that makes Maya stand out. Not that Sicilee's worried. Much. Waneeda, on the other hand, knows the hottest guy to ever walk the corridors of Clifton Springs would never look her way. Until he does. She may be a dumpy, junk food-obsessed nobody, but she also has a tiny, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, she can win the heart of one Cody Lightfoot.

When Cody joins the very unpopular Environmental Club, the girls discover where his true passion lies. And rush to exploit it. In a mad scramble to out-granola each other, the trio commit to veganism, bicycling to school every day, wearing recycled clothes—anything to get Cody to notice them. But as the days go by, the girls find themselves asking if living so unnaturally is really worth it, if he is really worth it. Because, seriously, isn't this whole love thing getting just a little bit crazy?

I always need a nice, light read to buoy me up after consuming a dark dystopian and The Crazy Things Girls Do For Love by Dyan Sheldon worked like a dream. It's a funny, lighthearted novel that, despite being utterly predictable (and a tad preachy), is also totally entertaining. A bubble-gummy read it may be, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

(Readalikes: I should be able to name dozens of titles, but I'm drawing a blank. Any suggestions?)

Grade: B

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for language (no F-bombs) and sexual innuendo

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of The Crazy Things Girls Do For Love from the generous folks at Candlewick Press. Thank you!

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

The world outside her Pod may be a disease-ridden, nightmare-awful "Death Shop," but inside, 17-year-old Aria is kept perfectly safe. Perfectly. Safe. She feels no pain, no fear, no discomfort. Not "in the real" anyway. If she wants a little excitement—or romance or adventure or even a good scare—she only has to enter the Realms, a series of virtual worlds that exist inside the Smarteye she wears at all times. Aria can experience anything she wants in these faux environments without risking a thing. The Realms' slogan says it all: "Better Than Real."

When an acquaintance suggests a stunt guaranteed to provide some real thrills, Aria agrees to go along with it for one reason—she needs information about her missing mother. What she gets, astonishingly enough, is banishment. Forced to survive in the very hostile world outside the Pod, Aria has no choice but to put her trust in an unlikely ally. Perry is an 18-year-old Outsider who hates "Moles" like Aria just as much as they loathe "Savages" like him. But, since she can't find her mother without his help and he can't get what he wants without her, they strike a deal. It's a tense, infuriating partnership that both want to dissolve as soon as possible.

As Aria and Perry fight their way through a treacherous land full of every kind of enemy, they come to some startling realizations about each other, like the fact that maybe they're not so different after all. When Aria makes some even bigger discoveries about her home, her family and herself, she 's forced to admit that Perry's right about one thing at least: nothing under the Never Sky is ever what it seems. Not her home, not herself, and especially not the Savage on whom she's come to depend so wholly. But what does that mean for Aria? Does she have a home? A family? A future? And when Perry walks away after fulfilling his end of their bargain, will she have anything left at all?

Under the Never Sky, a debut novel by Veronica Rossi, combines a whole bunch of dystopian elements to create a tale that's at once familiar and original. In this case, "the usual" doesn't bother me, predictable though it may be. Why? Because Rossi takes the time to create a fascinating world, build a believable romance, and develop a plotline that veers in enough directions to keep the story interesting. Taut plotting kept me on the edge of my seat, while Rossi's careful character-construction ensured that I cared—and cared a lot—about what was happening and to whom. This patchwork quilt of a story (a little dystopian, a little paranormal, a little romance) kept me so enthralled that I read it in one day. And wanted more, more, more. In case you can't tell, I loved it. A lot.

(Readalikes: Parts of it reminded me of Feed by M.T. Anderson; other parts reminded me of Delirium by Lauren Oliver and the Chaos Walking series [The Knife of Never Letting Go; The Ask and the Answer; and Monsters of Men] by Patrick Ness)

Grade: B+

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), sexual innuendo/content and violence

To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Under the Never Sky from the generous folks at HarperTeen. Thank you!

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

With her mother working as a lunch lady in the school cafeteria, it's pretty much guaranteed that token scholarship student Sarah Emerson will never fit in at fancy-pants Glades Academy. Sarah signs up to go on a school science field trip to Everglades National Park hoping to change that. If she can make just one friend, things will be so much better. Unfortunately, her snooty classmates make it painfully obvious that they want nothing to do with someone like her. As fascinated as 13-year-old Sarah is with all the wonders of the Everglades, all she wants to do now is hop back on the bus and go home to Coconut Grove.

Then an unexpected opportunity arrives. Sarah meets gorgeous Andy Malone, a 15-year-old whose parents help manage part of the park. When he boasts that he can show her "more of the Everglades in an hour than you'll see on a dozen field trips, and without getting your feet wet" (25), Sarah decides to take the chance. But when the outing goes horribly awry, what began as an exciting day trip becomes a terrifying nightmare. Getting back to any kind of civilization means hiking through gator-filled swampland for at least two days. Andy claims to know his way back, but does he, really? It's bad enough that they're stranded in the wilds of the Everglades, Sarah doesn't want to be lost in it, too. With no choice but to trust Andy, Sarah follows him through a tangled wilderness maze, where every kind of danger—from blistering sunburns to gnawing hunger to giant snakes to territorial alligators—lurks. Making it home will be the hardest thing Sarah's ever done, not to mention the most impossible.

(Readalikes: Reminded me a little bit of Hoot and Scat by Carl Hiassen as well as a bit of Sharks & Boys by Kristen Tracy)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), mild sexual innuendo and scenes of peril

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Lost in the River of Grass from the generous folks at Carolrhoda Lab. Thank you!

I have to say, though, that while I found Lamott's neurotic nature more or less endearing in Operating Instructions, it annoyed me to no end in Some Assembly Required. Perhaps it's because as Jax's grandmother—not mother—she's more removed from the situation, making her insanity less justified (in my humble opinion). Naturally, Lamott's concerned for her only grandchild, especially due to the tumultuous relationship between his parents, but after a while, I found myself siding more with Jax's mother than grandmother. I kept wanting to yell at her (as Sam's girlfriend, Amy, no doubt did), "Just mind your own blankety-blank-blank business, Lamott." Still, the author's commentary brings up some good questions about grandparenting: How involved should parents be in the lives of their adult kids and their children? Should they have any say in how their grandchildren are being raised, especially if the kids are growing up in a stable environment, if, perhaps, not a perfect one? And are adult children required to listen to their parents' advice, opinions and criticism when it comes to child-rearing? I think the conclusion Lamott finally comes to—that she has no control over the situation whatsoever—is probably most apt.

So, what's my final word on Some Assembly Required (which comes out in March 2012, by the way)? While the book is both funny and thought-provoking, it's not nearly as impactful as Operating Instructions, probably because it lacks the immediacy of Lamott's first parenting memoir. Some Assembly Required definitely asks important questions about grandparenting, but Lamott's griping—constant and irritating—overshadowed everything else. Maybe it's only because I haven't reached that stage of life yet and cannot possibly understand the worries of a grandmother, but the only thing this book makes me want to do is give Grandma Lamott a good shake and tell her to chill out a little.

(Readalikes: Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language

To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Some Assembly Required through Elle magazine's Reader's Jury program. All quotes were taken from said ARC.