Marly’s road trip of a lifetime doesn’t just check off bucket-list destinations, it forces her to face the grief and guilt she feels over her parents’ death. For most 19-year-olds, a cross-country trip is an offer you can’t refuse, but for Marly, it’s the last thing she wants after losing both her parents in a car accident. Nine months after their death, she would rather stay home working the retail job she hates, than deal with her loss. It’s not until family and friends corner Marly into driving her mom’s renovated 1978 VW bus across the United States that she’s ripped from her emotional paralysis. Marly goes on the trip, warily exploring the life her parents knew she always wanted—hiking mountain summits and living out her photography dreams. Her composure unravels when she meets a guy who pushes at the walls she’s so carefully built around herself. Will he be the one that causes her to face her deepest wounds and reclaim the life she thought was gone forever? Meet Me at the Summit is the first book in the Road Trip Snapshot Series. If you like sweet romance with no spice, travel, and coming of age, then you’ll love this story that will be sure to tug at your heartstrings. Start your own road trip by reading Meet Me at the Summit today! PRAISE FOR MEET ME AT THE SUMMIT: "What an adventure! I loved living vicariously through Marly - hiking, exploring the wilderness, learning cool facts about photography, VW buses, and of course, enjoying a sweet romance! This book addresses grief in a very raw and real way, and it made me tear up a few times. It also made me want to become a hiker and explore the world - despite the fact that I’m actually not a fan of wilderness at all in real life lol! Overall, the story hooked me and I loved all the twists and turns." -Bethany Atazadeh, The Stolen Kingdom Series EXCERPT: When you sign up to work in retail, nobody warns that you have to clean bathrooms. They also fail to include that sometimes those bathrooms may have the occasional vomit spew-out, because the T.J. Maxx you work at is located next to a bar that is all too eager to get people a little more than tipsy. After two clean-ups in one day, I'm more than ready to retreat home and try to forget the fact that my manager has yet to do any of the cleaning himself—or even look at the bathroom for that matter. I shove the apartment door open, throwing my bag on the floor as soon as I walk through. My roommate, Lori, has her yoga mat spread out in the middle of the living room. Her body is folded in a way that looks slightly unnatural. Her face is serene and completely at ease, despite the fact that her knee is almost touching her ear. She glances up and laughs under her breath. "Oh, I know that look. More vomit?"  "I'm starting to think people need to take a Breathalyzer test before they're allowed into the store." I rush over to the sink and wash my hands up to my elbows. I'd already washed as much as possible at work, but I swear I can still smell it. Shaking my hands dry, I slip into my room to change into sweatpants. "It shouldn't be legal to come in that wasted," Lori calls out. By the time I step back out into the room, she's seated in the middle of her yoga mat, patting a spot next to her.  "I'm fine," I say, choosing to sit on the couch behind her. She frowns and turns. "It might help you de-stress," she says, braiding her hair as she talks to me, knotting the long auburn curls into a smooth plait. Lori has always had the type of hair that flows down in perfect curls, the kind that shines just enough to make you think she was a model for a shampoo commercial. Meanwhile, my hair is the opposite: dry, shoulder-length, and falling in waves too chaotic and messy to be considered curls. Even when Lori braids it for me, fine baby hairs stick out left and right. Lori is my little self-help guru. She spent junior and senior year of high school worshipping every personal development book she could get her hands on. It started after her parents got divorced freshman year of high school. Lori's mom turned to self-help books, and it rubbed off on Lori, who is now trying—and failing—to rub off on me. That's how she got into yoga, and from there, things snowballed. These days, she's dreaming of opening her own yoga studio, so she's going to college to learn the business side of things while taking classes to get her instructor certification. "Can we just watch TV?" I reach for the remote before she can answer. This is our routine every night. Lori is almost ready for her sophomore year of college, while I'm off working at T.J. Maxx, making minimum wage, and hoping my manager doesn't notice that I'm hiding in the stock room half the time. Then, when we're both at the apartment, we watch something on TV that makes it impossible for Lori to ask, "How've you been feeling lately?" Lori frowns when I turn on the TV. "I was looking at the course schedule for next semester," she says, taking a seat next to me. "The p