Cover reveal! In this contemporary YA novel, high school student Charlotte Goh is an aspiring Asian American fashion influencer desperately trying to lift her family out of hardship, only to find it may come at a cost higher than any Chanel bag. Coming to shelves April 29, 2025!

Seventeen-year-old Charlotte Goh is juggling two very different personas: the dutiful Korean daughter, and the hustling NYC fashion influencer. Her best friend Steven scoffs at her ambition, but she secretly hopes that her posts will help financially support her struggling family. Then one night, after posting about a racist experience she had at an influencer event, Charlotte finds herself going viral and garnering the fame she’s always craved. And as much as she doesn’t want her newfound popularity to change her, she can’t help but be swept away by the exciting perks: chic new friends, the attention of one of Hollywood’s hottest heartthrobs, and a slew of companies clamoring to sponsor her.

But as she falls deeper into the influencer world, she finds that she may have to sacrifice more than she bargained for—including her unexpected new feelings for Steven. Will Charlotte be able to stay true to herself, or will she lose the things that are most important to her?

Scroll down to see the cover and read a sneak peek. And remember to preorder your copy here!

Cover Illustration: Yordanka Poleganova; Cover Design: Maria Fazio and Lori Thorn

“Deep breaths, Char. You got this,” I say to myself. But as I get closer and closer to the venue, my hands are shaking and my confidence is disappearing. I squeeze them together, willing them to calm down. I want to fit in so badly tonight.

I see the Lotte New York Palace Hotel from the end of the block and I watch as influencers I recognize make their way past the red velvet ropes and into the lobby. I tell myself that I belong here, too. One more deep breath and I walk past the main entrance and stop by a giant mirror and do some touch-ups on my face. Audrey and I agreed to meet by the main entrance, and I scan the area, looking for her.

“Charlotte!” a voice calls from a distance. I look and see Audrey waving and rushing toward me with a big smile on her face. I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me as she comes over.

“Wow, I love your dress,” I tell her. She’s wearing a beautiful sequined blush dress that falls to the floor, trailing behind her just enough to turn heads in awe. She looks like an actual celebrity. Her hair is up in a chic high pony and she has a graduated diamond necklace on with matching earrings.

“Thanks, I got lucky with such an incredible design team.”

“Whose is it?”

“Celine. Look at you, though. You look like a modern but vintage Barbie. Whose is yours?”

“It’s Dior,” I tell her. “Custom vintage.”

“Ugh, I knew it. Custom dresses are the best, aren’t they? It looks so good on you.”

Okay, so maybe it’s not really custom but tailoring is technically custom. Today I just need to be royalty, even if I have to lie to Audrey. But as Audrey links my arm with hers and we walk toward the ballroom, guilt washes over me. I know she wouldn’t have judged me at all if I told her I thrifted it. But I would’ve judged myself.

I push it out of my mind and focus on tonight. In front of the main room where the gala is taking place, a sparkling black step and repeat is propped up and influencers are having their photos taken. When it’s our turn, photographers flash their cameras as Audrey and I wave. We stand in front of the backdrop, posing in different positions next to each other and it’s a moment I want to hold on to forever. It feels every bit as glamorous as I imagined it to be as we stand side by side, shoulders slightly slung back, turning with our backs to the camera. The tension I had building up in my chest disappears and I’m pumped with excitement and endorphins by the blinding lights and the special treatment. This is probably why so many celebrities end up depressed. How do you even come down from this high? Everything else pales in comparison. I already don’t want to leave.

We make our way inside. The ballroom looks incredible, decked out in romantic and dreamy centerpieces with dim lighting. The bar is creatively curated with fifteen different mocktail options and hot beverages for the chilly early evening. I order an espresso mocktini and Audrey gets a virgin mojito. She takes some photos of me at the bar and we snap some selfies before posting them online. Surrounding us, everyone is doing similarly. My drink is beautiful, with a few coffee beans as the drink topper and a sprinkle of sparkling sugar on top.

The energy is loud and electric, and the coffee from the mocktini has my blood buzzing even more. Most people are standing and chatting, and there’s a photobooth line that’s insanely long. I see the party guests using Instagram live to show everything in real-time, which I remember influencers doing last year because I obsessively followed anyone that would show me a glimpse of it.

And now I’m on the other side. It feels surreal.

A guy slides into a bar stool on my left. And I know him. Everyone knows him. It’s Alan Travis Smith, influencer turned actor. I saw one of the movies Alan was in—a rom-com about a girl who’s trying to win him over. It was probably his biggest hit and his popularity grew massively after that.

He’s attractive in that mysterious way, with broad shoulders and toned arms. His eyes are grayish-green and his long lashes emphasize the depth of his features. I want to say something but nothing comes to mind. His presence feels overwhelming, in a way, like you can’t turn your attention away. I’m starstruck and I realize that some people are meant to be actors. When he gets his drink, he pulls out a flask from his jacket and pours some into his glass. When we lock eyes, he discreetly offers his flask to me and I shake my head no. Alan raises his drink to me and I mimic him, but there are no words exchanged.

I hop off the barstool, and as Audrey and I head back to our table, I turn around to see if I can spot Alan again—purely out of curiosity—and see that he’s already looking directly at me. We lock eyes before I avert my gaze and ignore the goosebumps rising on my skin…