Of all the books I've loved before...: Review: The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob

The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob by Pippa Grant
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I know better than to read anything by Pippa Grant with a drink in hand. I know better and yet...

I'm pretty sure the spacebar on my laptop is totally screwed up now after reading The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob!!! This book had me laughing from the get go. I can't remember a book that had me in tears and spitting out my drinks as much as this one did in a while. Not since one of Zeus' well timed newsletter stories, I don't think...

Another Bro Code book and this time it's Levi's turn to find his happily ever after. Who ever would have thought that this musical heartthrob would fall in love with the hot mess single mama that is Ingrid? I think that's why it's one of the best stories that Pippa has ever delivered. The bar is really high now lady, but you just keep exceeding that bar!

Of the Bro Code boys, I think that Levi is my favourite. He's this funny, sweet sort of man child but no matter what I thought about Beck, Levi is a mama's boy. He loves his mom and if my spawn grows up to be that sweet and caring, I think it would be considered a job well done! He's also the only one of the boys that has never seemed like the ultimate player. He's never searched for that happily ever after and when he accidentally stumbles his way into Ingrid's bookstore when he gets lost in his own hometown, the sparks fly over yodelling pickles. (Please do not ask, just read the damn book and laugh with me!!!!)

“Did he shove marbles up his nose when he was four?”

“No, but he did try to play his penis like a guitar every night at bath time.”

For fuck’s sake, she did not. “Mother.”

And then there's Ingrid - the ultimate hot mess single mama. I feel her pain, truly I do. I think that's why this hit me in the feels. I can see so much of myself in that. I'm the hot mess single mother. I try to do it all myself because my village is really damn small, and sometimes I don't know how to ask for the help I need. I definitely forget to make time for me and I definitely have my moments where I'm wearing more food than I have managed to get into my mouth at the appropriate temperature. Ingrid has three kids, which is two more than I do, but I feel her pain trying to juggle work, and the activities, and making sure their fed, clothed, and ready to take on the world.

His doctor tells me this will pass, but I sometimes wonder if he’ll be the life of the frat party with all the magic tricks he’ll be able to do with his nose by then.

And then I wonder if Levi would still want to make out with me if he knew how many things I pull out of Hudson’s nose every week.

And Levi sees this. He can feel and recognize the stress of a single mother with too much on her plate and that was probably the most beautiful part of this story. He never wanted to take only what would make him happy from her, he wanted to make her happy and take some of the stress off of her. This book was something my soul needed as we stay in this really weird place the world is in and the chances of real, awkward dates are slim.

As always, there are Pippaverse studded cameos by not only the Bro Code boys but also several members of the Fireballs, some very enthusiastic Thrusters players (and the wife of my favourite Berger brother though no dummies in tow), a pop superstar, and a drunk squirrel named Skippy. If you thought this could be a Pippa Grant book without a whacky animal, well you thought wrong.

Before I get into my favourite part of doing these reviews, I want to tell you just how much Ingrid's youngest is the star of this menagerie! He's hilarious, full of energy, and full of mischief - he reminds me of my son in all the most fun ways. You'll find a couple of his gems when you sift through my...

Favourite Lines -

Apparently I have six toes and one writes all my songs for me.

It’s a good sign the world’s forgotten me this week, so I can go anywhere without being recognized.

“I win! I holded still!” He breaks into his preschool dance routine, but the poor kid got his moves from me, which means to a casual observer, he probably looks like he’s having a seizure while choking on a piece of gum and tripping over barbed wire.

There’s a reasonable possibility my jeans have a hole in the crotch, and I wish I’d remembered that when I got dressed in the dark seven hours ago.

I untie my tongue and force it to work like I’m a rational adult. “Ingrid. Hi. It really is great to meet you. Your music—”

“Mommy, I hafta go take a dump.”

And that’s my life.

“Oh, honey…this isn’t the end of the world,” Wyatt’s dick says.

Fine, it’s Lila. Wyatt’s dick can’t talk, and I wouldn’t want to talk to it if it could.

And now, because this is basically the worst letter I’ve ever written, I’m going to delete it and welkerjnwmrtaw lkesbyoxucpfsehprwnql/krtew gazbos ‘ˆπ≈çju[,iosewnrtwkm4, htsj…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

One-time thing. That’s all. He found somewhere else for all his yodeling pickle needs.

“Bumgling is not shaking your bum for candy,” Zoe yells back at her brother. “It’s when grown-ups screw around drinking wine and being bums!”

Why does my child have a dying red squirrel in a shoebox? Also, why is that not the weirdest question I’ve ever asked myself?

There’s a flash of fur, and he flings himself backwards with a furry creature hanging onto his face. “Drunk squirrel!”

“You have a pet squirrel?”

“I have chaos and a guilt complex and I didn’t know we have a squirrel!”

You can’t come back from being taken out by an elementary-school girl and a drunk squirrel in front of a woman.

You just can’t.

“Can you let him keep his phone so he can find new jokes to entertain me?”

“No.”

“Then tell him to go away.”

“Yes, your baby majesty.”

I’m waffling between a mug that just has my name on it, rather than a mug with my face on it, and a mug announcing that I don’t spew profanities, I enunciate them like a fucking lady, when I realize the original mug is overflowing.

“Can I be a firetruck?”

“You can be anything you want to be.”

“Can I have a drink?”

“Hudson. I’m walking out this door, and you’re going to close your eyes and go to sleep, or else you’ll have to eat liver and onions for breakfast.”

I’m pretty sure the squirrel has brain damage, no matter what the vet said. But I swear he’s also learning the phrases peanut butter and bird seed and don’t make me call animal control, you mangy little thief.

“You do so much already—”

“You’re in my village, Ingrid Penelope Scott.”

“You are my village.”

“Why is it always woo? You know you all sound like you’re from another planet when you say woo?”

Is it weird that his bodyguard is helping him flirt with me? Or am I overtired and that’s not what’s actually happening?

Ingrid’s son smells like Cheerios and mischief. I like him. He’s my type of people.

“My mommy and sisters gots ga-vinas, but I gots a peanut.”

Not saying I have a foot fetish, but I’m not saying I don’t, either.

Got lost in Georgia once and saw a raccoon pulling a dildo down the road.

GEORGE!!!!!!!

If you haven't read the Happy Cat books, what is wrong with you???? Go get them - RIGHT NOW!!!

More laughter. Does she know it’s better than any song I’ve ever written?

"You could say I’m more of a plant guardian than a plant daddy.”

“You know I’m calling you Plant Daddy for the rest of my life now, right?”

The seven wrappers now in front of me suggest I’m dealing with my delusions by eating them.

“Mama, what’s hornymoans?” Hudson asks.

“They’re what get us into trouble in the first place, baby.”

And a night of grown-ups being grown-ups.

Talking without interruption. Eating hot food while it’s hot and cold food while it’s cold.

"Oh my god, why is the squirrel in the refrigerator?”

“Oh my god, the chickles! The pickens! The yodeling pickles and the screaming chickens!”

Am I horny because I’ve been denying myself so long, or am I horny because Levi’s that sexy?

“Mama’s horny and there are still cobwebs that need clearing down there.”

I lean back and nudge her elbow. “Go dance. Have fun. Thank you for being awesome.”

“I’m writing that one in my journal tonight. Today, my youngest acknowledged that I’m awesome.”

“I don’t tell you that enough.”