The Hollywood Scoop

Joey Delaney is only sixteen years-old, but she's not letting that stop her quest to become a star newspaper reporter. It's the summer of 1942, the world is going mad, and there are a million stories begging to be told. When a sought-after movie script gets swiped right under Joey's nose, she's on the case. The only thing she hasn't bargained for is the attention of dreamy Elliot Duncan, a boy with big plans of his own.

The Hollywood Scoop is light and cheerful fun--perfect for young readers who enjoy their mysteries with glamour and a side of sweet romance. Grades 6 and up.


EXCERPT:

    “Bless me Father, for I have sinned, this is my first confession since yesterday.”

    “Yesterday, child? You know, a girl of your years really needn’t come in every day.” My priest, Father Andrew, chuckled as I narrowed my eyes behind the intricate screen between us.

    “Tell that to my mother. She caught me trying to sneak out last night, so here I am.”

    “My word. Twelve Hail Mary’s.” I knew Father Andrew liked me, even though I had to be the worst sinner in our parish, easy. Well, top five.

    “Um, I’m not done.” I pressed my face closer to the little screen and heard Father Andrew get more comfortable. Father Andrew always took the time to get comfortable when he heard the sound of my voice. I’m not gonna lie, it’s kind of a point of personal pride for me.

    “Go on, child.”

    “Let’s see. Well, since yesterday I’ve said ‘damn’ six times. Of course, one of them was completely understandable. I would argue necessary.”

    “Taking the Lord’s name in vain is never understandable.” Father Andrew was having a hard time keeping the chuckle out of his voice, but I could tell he was really trying.

    “Even when you’re damning the sailor who won’t give you a straight answer about where his ship’s been? Come on, Father, you can give me that one, can’t you?”

    “I’m afraid not, Josephine. Ten more Hail Mary’s.”

    “All right, all right. I’m still not done.” I figured if I was going to be forced to march myself to church every day, I might as well get my money’s worth. “Father, why can’t we just talk face to face, like friends?”

    “I’m not in the habit of having friendships with adolescent ladies, child. Is there anything else?”

    “’Fraid so.” I paused to gather my thoughts.     “I’m still bribing sources for information about various scoops. But I’m not sure that’s even really a sin, even if my mother would have an aneurism if she knew about it…she has this vein in her forehead that kind of pops every time I so much as stick a pencil behind my ear.” I bit my lip. You know that feeling you get when you know you’re doing something wrong, but it’s because you have to, in order to do something right? That’s a feeling I have all the time.

    “I cannot absolve you of a sin you plan to keep on committing.”

     “Hmm. Okay, I guess I’m done then.” I bit my lip a second time, certain I was going to get nailed with about forty rosaries. This absolution business was really going to eat up my afternoon.