Size 14 Is Not Fat Either by P-HarpercollinsPubl

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									Size 14 Is Not Fat Either
Heather Wells Mystery

Author: Meg Cabot
Description

Former pop star Heather Wells has settled nicely into her new life as assistant dorm director at New York
College—a career that does not require her to drape her size 12 body in embarrassingly skimpy outfits.
She can even cope (sort of) with her rocker ex-boyfriend's upcoming nuptials, which the press has
dubbed The Celebrity Wedding of the Decade. But she's definitely having a hard time dealing with the
situation in the dormitory kitchen—where a cheerleader has lost her head on the first day of the
semester. (Actually, her head is accounted for—it's her torso that's AWOL.)Surrounded by hysterical
students—with her ex-con father on her doorstep and her ex-love bombarding her with unwanted phone
calls—Heather welcomes the opportunity to play detective...again. If it gets her mind off her personal
problems—and teams her up again with the gorgeous P.I. who owns the brownstone where she lives—it's
all good. But the murder trail is leading the average-sized amateur investigator into a shadowy world. And
if she doesn't watch her step, Heather will soon be singing her swan song!
Excerpt

Barista Boy
Sex in a cup
Can't you ask me out
Instead of "Wassup?"
"Barista Boy"
Written by Heather Wells
The guy behind the counter is checking me out. No, really.He's hot, too. Well, in a twenty-year-old
barista kind of way. I bet he plays the guitar. I bet he stays up way too late at night, strumming, the way I
do. I can tell by the slight shadows under his long-lashed green eyes, and the way his curly blond hair is
sticking up in spikes all over his head. Bed head. No time to shower before work, because he was up so
late practicing. Just like me."What'll it be?" he asks me. But with a look. A look that definitely says, I'm
checking you out.I know I'm the one he's checking out because there's no one in line behind me.Well,
and why shouldn't he check me out? I look good. I mean, the parts of me you can see through my bulky
winter outerwear, anyway. I fully put on mascara and cover-up this morning (unlike Barista Boy, I like to
disguise my undereye circles). And what with my parka, you can't see the four—well, okay, ten—pounds
I put on over the holidays. Because who counts calories when it's Christmas? Or New Year's? Or after
New Year's, when all that Christmas candy is on sale? There's plenty of time to get in shape again for
bikini season.And, okay, I've been telling myself that for the past five or six years, and I still haven't
actually tried it yet—getting in shape for bikini season, I mean. But who knows? Maybe this year. I have
two days of vacation due to me, all I've accrued since passing my employment probationary period in
October. I could go to Cancún. And, okay, just for the weekend. But still.So what if I'm five—well, maybe
eight—years older than Barista Boy? I've still got it. Obviously."Grande café mocha, please," I say. I'm 
totally not into foamy drinks with whipped cream on top of them, but it's the first official day of spring
semester (spring! Right!), and it's really cold out and supposed to blizzard later, and Cooper left this
morning (for destinations unknown, as usual) without turning on the coffeemaker, and my dog Lucy
wouldn't go out because it was so cold, so I'll probably find a nice surprise from her when I get home, and
I really need a little pick-me-up to help me quit feeling so sorry for myself.Plus, you know, as long as I'm
blowing five bucks on a cup of coffee, I might as well go for the gold."One grande café mocha, coming 
up," Barista Boy says, doing one of those flippy things with my cup. You know, twirling it, like it's a gun
and he's an outlaw in a western.Oh, yeah. He definitely plays guitar. I wonder if he sits around writing
songs he can never work up the guts actually to perform, like me? I wonder if he's constantly second-
guessing his songwriting talent, like I am?No. He's got the guts to get up in front of a crowd with a guitar
and his own lyrics. I mean, just look at him."Soy or nonfat?" he asks.Oh, God. I can't face my first day
back to work after break on nonfat milk. And soy? Soy?"Whole milk, please," I say. I'll be good later. At
lunch I'll just have a chicken parm and a salad, and maybe just a bite of lo-cal frozen yogurt. . . .Mmmm,
unless Magda got in more Dove Bars. . . ."You know," Barista Boy says, as he rings me up, "you look
really familiar.""Oh," I say. I'm blushing with pleasure. He remembers me! He must see hundreds, maybe
thousands...
Author Bio
Meg Cabot
Meg Cabot was born in Bloomington,Indiana. Armed with a fine arts degree from Indiana University, she
moved to New York City to pursue an illustration career, but when that failed to materialize, got a job as
the assistant manager of an undergraduate dormitory at New York University instead, writing novels on
the weekends (and whenever her boss wasn't looking).Meg has since gone on to publish over thirty novels
for younger readers as well as adults, including The Princess Diaries series, Size 12 Is Not Fat, and
Queen of Babble. She now divides her time between New York City and Key West with her husband and
their one eyed cat, Henrietta.

								
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