Running on Love and Donuts Bundle

Five teenagers, four grandmothers, and a lot of donut fueled chaos leads to a series of laugh out loud books enjoyed by teens and adults. Join the fun of the “Donut Club” as the teens navigate coming of age and the grandmas embrace their senior living. These romantic comedy books are funny and heartwarming with nothing explicit. Start with “Rebel with a Donut” and escape into a fun book series with a new found family.

REBEL WITH A DONUT
My bag is packed. It’s been packed for a couple of days. I checked in for my flight exactly twenty-four hours before the plane takes off and received a number in the first boarding group, just like I hoped for. My alarm clock is set for five in the morning. I climb into bed and doublecheck the alarm on my phone.
After confirming both alarms are set, I type a quick text.
Me: We need to leave for the airport at 5:30
I send the text and decide to send one more.
Me: Thanks
The door to my room is open wide and I hear two chimes from the next room. My mom’s phone has received my texts. I hope she looks at them and doesn’t forget she’s driving me to the airport. My parents have been busy for the last couple of years starting up and running their own event planning business. When they aren’t out with clients, they’re holed up in the office next to my room on their phones and computers. At night, I lie in bed and listen to them talk, or rather debate about how to run the company, and which photo to put up on social media. Having me leave for three weeks won’t put a damper on their activities. They’re so busy they hardly notice when I’m here, except when they need my help. The events in other people’s lives are more interesting than the events occurring in their only child’s life. And that’s fine. I don’t really do anything to make myself known. I prefer to blend into the background, at home and school.
I wait to see if Mom will walk past my door and say anything. Instead, the cat, Tinkles, walks by. She pauses at the opening and swishes her gray, fluffy tail against the door frame. I narrow my eyes at Tinkles. She hisses before she saunters off. That cat hates me. I once had a throw rug covering the wood floor in my room, but Tinkles took her name literally and tinkled all over it, more than once. I won’t miss the nasty feline while I’m away, and Tinkles won’t miss me. My parents are the only ones who will notice I’m gone, because no one else will.
Mom hasn’t texted me back. The click of her fingers on the keyboard carries into my room. It’s my nightly background noise. I stare at the silent phone in my hand. It’s just after the Fourth of July and everyone is in full vacation mode during summer break. Most teenagers’ phones are full of texts and messages from friends, but mine barely ever makes a peep. My closest peer, Morgan, found a boyfriend before school ended and I haven’t heard from her. It’s fine. We aren’t close, and I think she talks to me out of pity.
I open my few texts and look at the most recent one.
Grandma: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow! I have a few surprises planned for you!
Grandma’s type of surprise means she’ll make some of my favorite foods and plan a chick flick marathon. That’s more excitement than I’ve had all summer.
A heavy sigh escapes me. I close the text and place the phone on my nightstand. I feel lonely, which is odd because I’m used to it. I normally prefer to be alone. I yank up the quilt I’ve had on my bed since elementary school and snuggle up with the stuffed bunny whose been with me since birth. Bunny’s fur is matted, and his stuffing is compressed, and I’m afraid he’ll fall apart. When I was younger, I had a habit of sucking my right thumb and holding Bunny next to my face. I would grasp his ear with my right forefinger and rub the soft material against my nose while sucking my thumb. Much to my parents’ displeasure, I didn’t stop sucking my thumb until I was eight years old. It was a hard habit to break.
“Wait!” I hear Mom’s sharp voice from the next room, but she’s not talking to me. “Use the second photo.”
I can’t hear what my dad says, but his muffled tone conveys his agreement.
Little do my parents know, I was a closet thumb sucker until thirteen. I still rub the soft material of Bunny’s ear against my nose. This is one habit I haven’t broken. The ritual is comforting, and the scent of my childhood lingers on the stuffed animal.
Bunny will stay home while I leave for the next three weeks. A month ago, my grandma asked if I would come and visit. When I said I would think about it, Mom encouraged me to go. She thinks I’ll be a good distraction for Grandma and help cheer her up. My family visited Grandma seven months ago, when we flew to Florida for Grandpa’s funeral.
A jaunty theme song from an old television show carries to my room. It’s the ringtone Mom uses for Grandma. Grandma must have sensed I was thinking of her, and I listen in when my mom answers.
“Hi, Mom,” she says. “You’re up late.” There’s a pause while Grandma speaks on the other end. I can only imagine what Grandma’s saying, probably something about me arriving tomorrow. “No. She hasn’t done much. No friends.” Another pause. “Never had a boyfriend, though I don’t think that’s important right now.” Silence again. “This will be good for her. I’m glad you were able to plan this.” Another pause. “Okay. Thanks. Love you too. Bye.”
A small tear runs into Bunny’s face and I rethink the decision to not pack him. I wonder if my parents know I can overhear them.
“Night, Emma!” Mom yells from the other room. Dad echoes her.
I roll on my side and don’t answer. The phone on my nightstand vibrates.
Mom: Thumbs-up emoji
I sigh and rub Bunny’s soft ear. No friends. Never had a boyfriend. I do wonder what it would be like to have either. I need a miracle or a brand-new start to get away from the nothingness I’ve created.
The glow in the dark stars stuck to my ceiling shine dimly. I received them when I was eight, as a reward for breaking my habit of thumb sucking. I know I didn’t really break the habit, but at least I stopped sucking my thumb in front of others, not that anyone except my parents noticed. I’d have to do something impressive to be observed, and I’m not a larger-than-life type of person.
Everyone says the summer before your senior year is supposed to be epic. My summer excitement involves working for my parents, volunteering at the local library, and now a trip to Florida for three weeks. My vacation won’t be the thrilling one of teenagers, full of theme parks and parties on beaches. I’m headed to The Villages, where Grandma lives. I plan to get lost in a sea of wrinkles and gray hair for twenty-one days.
I imagine if I had friends, they’d good naturedly make fun of me for vacationing in a retirement community, but I don’t have anyone close to me. And that’s fine.