Introduce Your Teens/Tweens to the London Confidential Series (Teen Book Recommendation)

Asking for Trouble by Sandra Byrd (London Confidential #1)
List Price: $6.99
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers (March 4, 2010)
My Rating: (5/5)

A nub of doubt rose inside methe kind that popped up, unwelcome, anytime I tried to rationalize something that wasnt exactly true or right. This time I swallowed it back. I lived in London now. It was time to take matters into my own hands.

When her family moves to London, 15-year-old Savvy Smith has to make her way in a new school and in a new country. She just knows the school newspaper is the right place for her, but she doesnt have the required experience. Can she come up with a way to prove herself and nab the one available position on the newspaper staff at Wexburg Academy?
London Confidential Series: Where British fashion, friendships, and guys collide, and where an all-American girl learns to love life and live out her faith.

My Thoughts:

I loved this fun read! Who wouldnt like to step inside the mind of a teenager dealing with the challenge of moving to a new country? Moving to London may sound like pure adventure, but you realize along with Savvy that its not all the travel books make it out to be. She has to live there. She has to get to know new people, be the Yank, and even learn the language. Who knew that Londoners spoke so differently that you might feel a bit lost and confused being among them? I didnt.

Savvy is just the type of true friend most young girls would like to have around I found her character very real and think that tweens and teens will love this series! It says in the product description that its recommended for ages 9-12, but I really think teens will enjoy it, too. Savvy is, after all, 15. This is definitely recommended. 🙂

Buy it!

You can purchase Asking for Trouble on for $6.99.

***Special thanks to Christy Wong of Tyndale House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***


Best-selling author Sandra Byrd has published nearly three dozen books in the Christian market, including her latest series, French Twist, which includes the Christy Award finalist Let Them Eat Cake (WaterBrook Press, 2007) and its sequel, Bon Apptit (WaterBrook Press, 2008). Many of her acclaimed fiction and nonfiction books target the tween and young adult markets. She has also published a book for new moms entitled Heartbeats. Several of Sandras shorter works have appeared in periodicals such as Relevant, Clubhouse, Pockets, Decision, and Guideposts. For the past seven years, she has shared her secrets with the many students she mentors through the Christian Writers Guild. Before turning to full-time writing, Sandra was an acquisitions editor in the ABA market. She lives in the Seattle, Washington, area with her husband and two children.

Visit the authors website.

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I hung back at the doorway to the cafeteria of my new supercool British school, Wexburg Academy. Most of the lunch tables were already packed, and the room was buzzing with chatter. The populars, whom Id secretly nicknamed the Aristocats, commanded an entire table right in the center of the room. Their good looks and posh accents made up the sun around which all other tables orbited. The normal kids were in the second circle, arranged by friends or clubs or activities. The drama table was on the outer edge of the room, and so were the geeks, the nerds, and the punk wannabesway out there like Neptune, but still planets. Most everyone had a group. I didnt.

Okay, so there was one table with lots of room. The leftovers table. It might as well have been the dark side of the moon.

No way.

I skipped lunchagainand headed to the library. One of the computers was available and I logged on, desperately hoping for an e-mail from Seattle.

There was an e-mail from my grandmother reminding me to floss because British dentists only cleaned adult teeth.

Spam from Teen Vogue.

An invitation to join the Prince Harry fan clubI opened it and gave it a quick scan. Id consider it more later.

And . . . one from Jen!

I clicked open the e-mail from my best friend at homewell, it had been my home till a couple of months agohoping for a lunch full of juicy news served alongside tasty comments about how she missed me and was planning stuff for my next visit home. I craved something that would take me the whole lunch period to read and respond to and remind me that I did have a place somewhere in this universe.

From: Jen
To: Savannah

Hey, Fortune Cookie, so hows it going? Met the Queen yet? LOL. Sorry I havent written too much. Its been so busy. Samantha took the position youd been promised on the newspaper staff. Shes brand new, but then again you would have been too. It seemed strange without you at first, but I think shell do okaymaybe even better than okay. And hey, life has changed for everyone, right? Things are crazy busy at school, home, and church. We hang out a lot more now that a bunch of us are driving. Will write again in a few weeks.

Miss you!

A few weeks! My lungs filled with air, and I let it out slowly, deflating like a balloon with a slow leak. I poised my hands over the keyboard to write a response but just . . . couldnt. What would I say? It had already been weeks since wed last e-mailed. Most of my friends texted instead of e-mailing anyway, but texting across the Atlantic Ocean cost way too much. And the truth was . . .

Id moved, and theyd moved on.

I logged off the computer and sat there for a minute, blinking back tears. Jen hadnt meant to forget me. I was simply out of her orbit now.

I pretended to read Sugar magazine online, but mostly I was staring at the clock, passing the time till I could respectably head to my next class.

Five minutes before class I swung my book bag onto my shoulder and headed down the hall. Someone was stapling flyers to the wall. Hi, Hazelle.

Hullo, Savannah. She breezed by me, stapling another pink flyer farther down the wall. We had math class togetheroh yeah, maths, as the Brits called itfirst period. Id tried to make friends with her; Id even asked her if shed like to sit together in lunch, but shed crisply informed me that she sat at the table with the other members of the newspaper staff.

She didnt bother with small talk now either, but went on stapling down the hall. I glanced at one of the flyers, and one sentence caught my eye right away: Looking for one experienced journalist to join the newspaper staff.

I yanked the flyer off the wall and jammed it into my bag. I was experienced. Wasnt I?

A nub of doubt rose inside methe kind that popped up, unwelcome, anytime I tried to rationalize something that wasnt exactly true or right.

This time I swallowed it back. I thought back to Jens e-mail that kind of felt like a polite dismissal. I lived in London now.

It was time to take matters into my own hands.