Roadside Assistance

Roadside Assistance

by Amy Clipston
4.4 19


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Roadside Assistance by Amy Clipston

A very bumpy ride. Emily Curtis is used to dealing with her problems while under the hood of an old Chevy, but when her mom dies, Emily’s world seems shaken beyond repair. Driven from home by hospital bills they can’t pay, Emily and her dad move in with his wealthy sister, who intends to make her niece more feminine—in other words, just like Whitney, Emily’s perfect cousin. But when Emily hears the engine of a 1970 Dodge Challenger, and sees the cute gearhead, Zander, next door, things seem to be looking up. But even working alongside Zander can’t completely fix the hole in Emily’s life. Ever since her mom died, Emily hasn’t been able to pray, and no one—not even Zander—seems to understand. But sometimes the help you need can come from the person you least expect.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780310719816
Publisher: Zondervan
Publication date: 04/04/2011
Pages: 288
Sales rank: 349,627
Product dimensions: 5.40(w) x 8.40(h) x 1.00(d)
Age Range: 13 - 16 Years

About the Author

Amy Clipston is the award-winning and bestselling author of the Kauffman Amish Bakery, Hearts of Lancaster Grand Hotel, Amish Heirloom, and Amish Homestead series. Her novels have hit multiple bestseller lists including CBD, CBA, and ECPA. Amy holds a degree in communication from Virginia Wesleyan College and works full-time for the City of Charlotte, NC. Amy lives in North Carolina with her husband, two sons, and three spoiled rotten cats. Visit her online at; Facebook: AmyClipstonBooks; Twitter: @AmyClipston.

Read an Excerpt

roadside assistance

By Amy Clipston


Copyright © 2011 Amy Clipston
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-310-71981-6

Chapter One

My dad's twelve-year-old, burgundy Chevrolet Suburban roared down the winding streets, pulling a U-Haul packed with our remaining belongings past sprawling brick McMansions with perfect, manicured yards. The humid August air whipped wisps of my curly brown hair across my face, tangling the long strands that had escaped the ponytail I'd stuck through the back of a ball cap.

Frowning, I yanked off the hat and tried in vain to capture the offending strands and wind the rubber band around my thick mane. "I wish you'd just fix the air-conditioning so we could close the windows," I bellowed to Dad over the classic rock blaring through the speakers. "How much does Freon cost?"

While singing off-key to Aerosmith's "Angel," my dad winked at me. After the song ended, he said, "You know it'll take more than Freon to fix this ol' hunk-a-junk, and we can't afford the parts I'd need. I'm just happy it still runs with all the miles on it." He tapped the dashboard and shook his head. "She got us here safe and sound at least."

I adjusted my cap and settled back in the seat, peeling my sweaty legs from the faded tan leather. Our rebuilt Suburban looked like a junk pile reject in comparison to the shiny European SUVs lining the concrete driveways surrounding us. My dad maneuvered around the corner, passing more oversized brick colonials. I had to hold back a groan. Our tiny three-bedroom ranch could've fit in the downstairs of any of those homes.

"This neighborhood is still classy. Looks the same as it did seven years ago." He turned to me. "Do you remember coming down here for Christmas when you were ten?"

I shrugged. "I remember bits and pieces. I had fun, right?"

"Oh yeah." He nodded, a smile cutting across his face, weathered by long days spent in the sun working on cars. "You and Whitney always had fun together as kids, the few times you saw each other. I always wished we could spend more time with my sister and her family, and I guess now that wish is coming true." He got quiet for a second and then added, "Isn't it funny how life works?"

Yeah, real funny.

I bit my lower lip, wondering if Whitney and I could possibly have any fun together now. We had nothing in common, aside from being born less than a month apart. From the stories Grandma recounted during her tedious phone calls, Whitney ruled the high school with her court of perfect friends. She did everything—from cheerleading to church youth group to the honor society. Grandma's perfect little princess.

The latest visit with Grandma, as well as with Whitney, her parents, and her little brother, Logan, was a blur of raw emotions. Eight months ago, they'd come up north for my mom's funeral and stayed four days. And I'd counted the minutes until they went home.

My aunt Darlene, my dad's younger and only sibling, showed up and took over our house, coordinating the funeral and reception down to the color of the tablecloths. She also dictated what I would wear to the funeral, dragging me around the mall and insisting I try on dress after dress, probably two dozen total, before she declared the perfect fit. It was an uncomfortable, short dress, not my style at all.

But that was the root of the problem—Aunt Darlene didn't like my style. She didn't approve that I preferred to wear black pants and a nice blouse to the funeral instead of a dress. Darlene didn't approve of any of the clothes in my tiny closet, not even my jeans and T-shirts. In fact, she'd started in on me when she walked in the door of our house, chastising me for oil stains on my hands, insisting I was too pretty to be a grease monkey, and ordering me to pull my messy curls back from my face.

"Check that out," my dad gushed, pointing at a restored 1966 Mustang sitting in the driveway of another huge house. "That's what I had when I started dating your mom. She loved that car. In fact, she said she used me just to get to ride in that car." He chuckled and glanced at me. "Maybe you and I can build one of those someday."

"Yeah, sure, Dad," I said, staring out the window at another enormous home as we drove by.

I had a feeling I wouldn't be working on vintage cars anytime soon. The minute we arrived, Darlene would probably stick me right back into her Boot Camp for Beauty Delinquents. The morning of the funeral, Darlene insisted I get my hair and makeup done, subjecting me to three hours at the salon, including having a woman wash and straighten my hair, a painful and tedious process. After the hair-straightening torture, another woman plucked my eyebrows, painted my fingernails and toenails, applied lotions to my hands, and caked my face with makeup. Normally I would've protested, but I was too emotionally distraught after losing my sweet mother to fight with my drill sergeant aunt. Plus, when I'd expressed my resentment to my dad the night before, with a pained expression he'd told me to just go along with it.

When we arrived at the church for the service, I looked like a completely different person. If my mother had looked down from heaven that day, I doubt she would have recognized me. My best friend, Megan, and my boyfriend, Tyler, had both walked right past when they entered the church, and I had to wave them down, insisting I was Emily Curtis and not some cousin visiting from out of town. Megan was stunned by my appearance and said I looked like a movie star, but I felt more like a clown with all of the makeup and my hair full of spray. Tyler, on the other hand, was speechless when he saw me.

Since my cousin Whitney graduated from Darlene's beauty camp with honors, she wasn't much support either. Whitney hadn't said much to me at the funeral, except that I looked beautiful. Then she hugged me hard, making it difficult to breathe. I wasn't sure if her hug was sincere, but I didn't really care. I'd been too busy trying to figure out how I could possibly get through the next day without my mom. Other than the hug, Whitney had her eyes trained on her phone, texting friends constantly. I couldn't even imagine what she was telling them. Maybe she felt so uncomfortable with me she used her friends as a distraction.

After the funeral and torturous reception filled with more awkward hugs, as well as condolences from strangers and acquaintances, I'd bagged the black dress, shoving it to the back of my closet. I put on jeans and a sweatshirt and retreated to my dad's garage to drink Coke and talk cars with Tyler, Logan, and Megan. It was the most relaxed I'd been during the visit.

The Richards family went home after the funeral, to my relief. I was tired of being told what to wear, how to style my hair, and how to behave like a "nice young lady." My mother had never ordered me around that way, and I wasn't about to let Aunt Darlene do it. She just didn't get me. Aside from Megan and Tyler, Logan seemed to be the only one who understood me.

But then again, I doubted Tyler ever really "got" me. Two weeks ago, he'd broken off our relationship with two simple sentences: "You're really cool, Em, but I'm just not attracted to you that way. Let's be friends."

Thanks for the love, Ty.

But my failed relationship with Tyler was only a fraction of the train wreck that I now called my life. Since we'd lost Mom, my dad's business, Curtis Collision Center, had tanked; our house was ripped from us due to foreclosure; and we were left with only a rented trailer full of boxes and bags containing the remaining pieces of our former existence.

"Check out that brand-new Lamborghini," Dad said, pointing to a canary yellow car in a driveway. "Wow. That's what money looks like, Baby Doll."

Crossing my arms, I stared at the cracked and faded tan vinyl dashboard and frowned. We'll never fit in here.

"Well, this is the place," my dad said, steering into a horseshoe driveway winding in front of a huge, two-story, dark-red brick colonial.

Although I'd been here seven years ago, I was still taken aback. The house featured huge windows, an attached three-car garage, and a wraparound porch. As our truck crept around the curve in the driveway, I noticed that the concrete snaked to the back of the house, where I caught glimpses of a cabana, a wrought iron fence surrounding the Olympic-size in-ground pool, and a detached three-car garage.

I took my first thought back — our house could've been someone's garage.

I looked over at my dad. His dream, aside from his collision repair business, had always been to have a huge garage to tinker in at home. Chuck had two garages—a total of six bays counting the one attached to the house—but I doubted he even knew how to change the oil, let alone build a car.

Two shiny Mercedes M-Class SUVs sat next to each other in the concrete driveway like a his and hers set. Were they issued upon entrance to the neighborhood? Both were new models, and both vehicles were also evidence Uncle Chuck was still raking in the dough with his high-powered job at the bank. My fingers itched for a chance to look under the hood of those two machines, to see what made them tick. Maybe my dad and I could take them out to the interstate and blow the cobwebs out of the engines to see just how quickly we could get from zero to seventy. But I doubted Chuck would let me get behind the wheel. Based on how clean the cars were, I wondered if he ever pushed them beyond forty miles per hour.

Behind the SUVs was an older-model Honda Accord SE with a faded red paint job, which had to belong to Whitney. Maybe the Suburban wouldn't be so out of place ... I briefly wondered how Miss Perfect dealt with driving such an old car and parking it next to the SUVs.

My dad brought the truck to a complete stop, and the U-Haul groaned in response. Turning to me, his lips formed a reluctant smile as he patted my leg. "Well, Baby Doll, we're here. Time to begin fresh."

Before I could respond, a voice rang out behind us.

"Welcome!" Aunt Darlene yelled, trotting down the steep front steps. "We're so glad y'all made it here safe."

Pushing the door open, I slid from the seat and leaned back against the truck.

"Hey, little sister!" My dad rushed from the driver's seat, slamming the door and enveloping my tall, slender aunt in one of his famous bear hugs.

Darlene laughed and smacked his arm before stepping back and assessing him with her big, brown eyes. Her platinum blonde bob was perfectly manicured, much like the lush, green landscaping. While her style was impeccable, my stare was drawn to the hint of her black roots.

Dressed in white shorts and a collared shirt, she looked like she'd just returned from playing tennis at the country club. "You're looking well, Brad," she said. "It's so good to see you. I hope you'll be comfortable here and stay as long as you need."

He smiled. "Thank you." He then made a sweeping gesture with his arm and motioned for me to join him at his side. "Get over here, Emmy."

Taking a deep breath, I stepped over to him and forced a smile. "Hi, Aunt Darlene." I held out my hand for her to shake.

"Oh my!" Aunt Darlene tugged me into a tight hug. "You're still pretty as a picture, despite that messy hair. I can't believe how much you've grown up in the past year."

I gasped for air and tried in vain to escape her crushing embrace.

"Let me look at you." She pushed me back, her hands still gripping my shoulders like vices. "My goodness. You look just like your mama." Her smile turned to a grimace, and she quickly added, "Lord rest her soul." Studying me, her eyes filled with concern. "You must miss her so. How are you doing, Emily?"

I shrugged. "I'm fine." I was not going to open up to her. She'd never understand how I felt.

She frowned, her eyes moving down to my hands, streaked with grease stains from last-minute fixes on the Suburban this morning.

Oh no. Here come the lectures. Why didn't I scrub my hands with Gojo before we left? I swallowed a sigh.

Darlene clicked her tongue. "You got yourself back into that grease again?"

I leveled my glance, not backing down. "Dad needed some help with the truck this morning, so I pitched in."

She took her hand in mine, running her fingers over my dry skin. "You know it's not very ladylike to play with engines. Boys tend to like girls who dress and act like girls."

I swallowed a gasp. The words stung almost as much as when Tyler broke up with me.

"Yeah, well, someone has to help him get the truck running, right, Dad?" I glanced at my dad, who grinned while nodding. "Besides, it's not very ladylike to be broken down at the side of the road with a packed U-Haul, right?"

"That's right," Dad chimed in.

Darlene frowned, her eyes focused on my hands. "I guess you're right. Why aren't you using that lotion I bought you? You've got some seriously dry skin, young lady. The goopy stuff is not very good for your hands."

So when did she become my mom? I bit my bottom lip, censoring my words. "I ran out." It wasn't exactly the truth, but Darlene wouldn't have been happy to hear I'd given the froufrou-smelling lotion to Megan a month ago. The scent of lilac didn't appeal to me.

"Well then," Darlene said with a smile. "We'll just have to take you out shopping and get you some more. Oh, and look at those nails." She clicked her tongue. "Emily Claire, we've got to get you back to the salon too."

"Absolutely," I muttered. "I can't wait."

My dad placed a hand on my shoulder. "I think the nail salon may have to wait until we're all moved in."

I breathed a sigh of relief when Uncle Chuck appeared on the stairs, taking the focus away from me.

"You made it!" he announced, taking the front steps two at a time. He definitely looked the rich banker part. His graying brown hair was cut short and his smile was bright against his tanned skin. I'd bet the tan was courtesy of the golf course.

My mom once called Darlene and Chuck "Barbie and Ken," and I could totally see that now. They were perfect standing in front of their "dream house" with their designer clothes and brown tans. All they needed was the pink Corvette. Maybe there was one in the back garage.

I suppressed a smile at the thought.

"Good to see you, Brad," Chuck said, shaking my dad's hand.

The backfire of a loud engine drowned out my dad's reply. I turned toward the street just as a dark-haired boy my age piloted a 1970 Dodge Challenger into the driveway next door, the motor ticking with an irregular sound. Obviously a project car, it was faded green and peppered with gray primer spots.

I could feel the thump of the engine reverberating a deep, low drone against my chest. I bit my lower lip, squelching the urge to run over to the garage and help him fix that tick. My interest and specialty had always been Chevrolets, an affection I'd inherited from my dad. But rebuilding a Dodge would be a fun challenge. One I could use right now.

My dad's brown eyes flashed with a question, waiting for me to diagnose the car's thumping problem as I always did when I helped out at his shop back home.

"I hear a bad tick," I said. "Bet he's got to tear it apart and rebuild the whole top end of the motor. Sounds like a big block."

He smacked my back. "Good girl."

I grinned with triumph. I still loved impressing my dad. Lately it seemed like cars were all we talked about. But at least we still talked.

As the thundering engine died in the distance, I turned toward the sound of the front door slamming shut. Tall, slender Whitney negotiated the front steps like a runway model. At five foot ten, she topped me by three inches. A faint hint of black roots lined the symmetrical part on her blonde head as well, and I wondered if she and her mother made a girls' day out of their salon appointments to take care of those pesky roots.

With a pink, sequined cell phone pressed to her ear, she spoke, gesturing with her hands. Her fingernails and toenails were painted a deep red, matching her lipstick. I wondered if Teen Vogue had ever considered her for one of their covers. Surely Grandma must've sent them at least one photograph.

"Exactly, Kristin," she was saying as she headed toward us, all business. "I'm having a small pool party at my house tonight. Come over around seven. Call the rest of the girls. This is our last chance for some fun before school starts Tuesday." She nodded, listening. "Okay. Gotta go. My cousin is here. Ciao."

Snapping the phone closed, a smile grew on her rosy lips. "Uncle Brad! Emily!" Arms extended, she pulled my dad and me into a hug, and I nearly choked at the stench of her flowery perfume, without a doubt the latest designer fragrance.

She stepped back and grinned. "It's so wonderful to see you again. You look great!"

"Thanks." I adjusted the baseball cap on my head. Whitney was a good liar, seeing as she'd nodded in agreement when her mother criticized my attire during their last visit.


Excerpted from roadside assistance by Amy Clipston Copyright © 2011 by Amy Clipston. Excerpted by permission of ZONDERVAN. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Roadside Assistance 4.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 19 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I thought this book was amazing and I wish it could've continued. I loved how Amy Clipston made most of it about how Emily had lost her faith in God. She couldn't talk to him and thought he forgot about her. I also liked how tom-boyish Emily was. I like reading books with girls as tom-boyish as I am. It was an awesome book.
TaylorSwift96 More than 1 year ago
This book is too good to describe in words. This book is the best. I have never ever read a book like this in my whole entire life! You have not lived until you read this book. It's perfect and flawless. I highly recommended this book to everyone.
DanielleL More than 1 year ago
I got right into this book. It's not the normal book and story line I like to read and even though this is a book targeted to Young Adults I really got into this book! This book starts off with Emily and her dad heading to Emily's dad's sisters house after loosing everything due to her mom having cancer. The story goes from there on Emily transitioning to a new school and a new town, living with relatives and dealing with her mom's death, add in she has lost her faith in god and can't talk to him any more and this story is very inspirational. I will say there were a few spots in the book my eyes watered and toward the end I had tears running down my cheek. Hubby had to think I was nuts. I wanted to finish the book I was so wrapped up in it I stayed up till 1am and one point to finish the book. It was worth it. This book is very inspirational and even got me thinking about some of the verses and thoughts mentioned in the book. I would LOVE to see this book in a movie it would make a great movie and I would be there opening weekend! Disclosure: I received a copy of this book from Zondervan Books to conduct my review. All opinions remain my own. Visit The Frugal Navy Wife for more info.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
It was an original story and the characters were so easy to relate with. I am looking forwars to more books with these characters.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Personally, I really enjoyed the book. I cried probably three different times while I was reading it. It is a great story about finding your faith after trials. It is well written and the characters are believable human beings who have their strengths and faults, as do we all. Worth a read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I got this book from the library, and loved it, and than i bought it. So i could read it again. It made me cry, it made me smile, amd it toughed my heart. I loved that it was so real. There could be a girl out there somewhere that this book is their life. If you like this book, try Girl Overboard, or North of Beautiful. They both are really good, real world books.
MiscMaria More than 1 year ago
Roadside Assistance is about lead character, teen tomboy Emily Curtis coping with the recent loss of her mother to cancer and the adjustment her life takes. Emily and her father are forced to move in with her wealthy aunt while they climb from the debt of hospital bills incurred while her mother was sick. On top of all this, Emily is a teen struggling with her religion, other typical highschool drama, and her aunt wanting to make her as girly as her cousin Whitney. (Clipston is interested in making the sequel about Whitney’s story.) In her struggle with religion, Emily feels like God has forsaken her and remember how strong her mother faith was through her sickness. She struggles with the fact that she feels like she can’t talk to God. Instead she starts journal entries to her mother. Some of these entries had me really teary eyed. I loved these entries. However, a lot of the time…I felt like Emily was coming off as a little rotten…but I attribute this to being a typical teenager. I dread to think how horrible I was as a teen. *Shutter!* Throughout the novel, I kept wanting her to just wake up and see the greatness of what was around her. Her father to me was another key character. (I’d like him to have his own book too – if this were to be a series, especially to know more about his talk with the pastor.) I mean, Emily felt like she had NO one to talk to…but he just lost his wife. My husband is my best friend…no idea where I would be or how I would cope if I lost him the way her father lost his wife. I felt like Emily was being a little unfair to him and could have been more understanding…but again, she is a teen. I mean how hard must it be for him to no longer be able to provide for his child the way he once did. He had to give up his auto business and everything he knew too. I like the turn the book took when Emily and her father met Zander (the gearhead neighbor). I also like that this book wasn’t ramming too many technical car facts down your throat. I think there was a good balance and the references weren’t hard to unerstand. Clipston kept them at a minimum with just enough inserted to make the point. All in all, I thought this was really well written and even though it was a young adult book I still enjoyed it. It was a very good, emotional read with a really happy ending. I would like to get more in depth into Whitney, Zander, and Mr. Curtis’ storys. Hopefully, we will see more of that if Clipston decideds to make a sequel. I will definitely be reading the sequel and after seeing all the comments about the Kuaffman Bakery Series, I will be reading those as well! Though my finding this author was somewhat accidental, I am so glad I did. On a personal note, Amy Clipston and I have had short conversations through FB chat a few times and she seems to be a very patient, caring, and giving person. Very down to earth – and I am extremly glad I came to find her by way of book! Keep writing Ms. Clipston – you are doing great and I think those of us who have enjoyed any of your books can say we really appreciate what you do.
specialteacher13 More than 1 year ago
Although this book was written for the teen audience, it was still a great read! I hated to put it down. Modern teen girl deals with losing a parent to cancer, and due to medical bills, her family also lost their house and moved in with family members. This is a 9 out of 10 tissue book!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I think this book was very well written! The story was great because it is true to life when it comes to Christian teenagers. Some parts of the book were a little iffy, but all in all it was an awesome book :)
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