Check out the cover of Pretty Girl County by Lakita Wilson! The glitz of Gossip Girl meets the hustle of Leah Johnson’s You Should See Me in a Crown in this charming and hilarious story of ex-BFFs from PG County, Maryland, perfect for fans of Joya Goffney and Elise Bryant. On shelves July 1, 2025!

Girls like Reya Samuels always come from Prince George’s County. Reya is rich and she’s not afraid to show it—she wears designer clothes, drives a custom pink Audi, and lives in a neighborhood tucked behind a fancy cast iron gate. She works hard, but she can get anything she wants with a snap.

Sommer Watkins is from Seat Pleasant, where the cast iron gates are significantly smaller—and attached to the windows, where most folks are still trying to make ends meet. Every day for Sommer is a hustle, working at her dad’s bookstore, and using her art skills to scrounge up enough scholarship money for her dream school, Spelman.

Reya and Sommer used to be BFFs—back when Reya lived in Seat Pleasant, too. Now the girls are from different stratospheres—but when Reya desperately needs help to prove to FIT admissions officers that she has what it takes to make it in fashion, the only person who can help is Sommer. Reya promises to help Sommer in return—she’ll pay her for her services, helping Sommer afford the school her parents can’t.

As the girls work together, slowly they begin to trust each other again. But when new relationships push them both, and Sommer’s dad’s bookstore is suddenly in danger of closing, old wounds bubble up. Can the girls find a way to repair their friendship and stay true to themselves along the way?

Scroll down to read a sneak peek. And remember to preorder your copy here!

Cover Art: Natalia Agatte; Cover Design: Jessica Jenkins

Girls like Reya Samuels always come from Prince George’s County. If she were from Montgomery County, where generational wealth flows like water, the other rich Black girls would be calling her over-the-top for driving around in that flashy pink Audi. And if she came from Fairfax County, she’d be one of the only Black girls with money—period.

But here in Prince George’s County? Girls like Reya Samuels are expected to flaunt their money—encouraged even—because most folks around here didn’t start out that way. It’s a whole thing to show everyone you’ve finally made it.

Imagine, huge homes sitting on honest-to-goodness golf courses, multiple luxury cars tucked inside huge garages, catered backyard barbecues. Here in PG? Almost everyone you know is chasing a check or running up the bag.

“Sommer,” my dad likes to say, “never make assumptions about someone’s pockets. Some of those people living in those big houses don’t have enough left over for furniture.”

I’m not convinced that’s exactly true. Back when everyone’s parents made them invite the entire class to birthday parties, I’ve personally witnessed the following: Furniture that doesn’t slide across the floor when you bump into it, original artwork on walls, live-in housekeepers.

Some say Prince George’s County, Maryland, is a place of infinite possibility. And I guess that’s sort of true. Every day, there’s another Black doctor, politician, or entrepreneur moving into a neighborhood tucked away behind ornate cast-iron gates. Practically every time I scroll socials there’s a new “started from the bottom” post featuring a kid from my high school hanging out in the bowling alley in their basement, or lounging on an inflatable flamingo in their Olympic-sized swimming pool.

Me, personally? I know nothing about this kind of life.

I live in PG County, too—except I started from the bottom and I’m still there.

Shall I introduce you to Seat Pleasant, Maryland, where our cast-iron gates are significantly smaller—and attached to our windows? Where bus stop benches provide seating for the overworked and beds for the unhoused? Where dead-end streets become football fields, and someone’s grandma runs a corner store out the side window of her house?

In Seat Pleasant, swing sets are dangling metal chains without rubber seats. Basketball hoops are missing backboards, and kids are more likely to climb the hills of an evicted neighbor’s furniture than a jungle gym because no one’s coming to rebuild the playgrounds.

I may be attending the same high school for talented and gifted students like Reya Samuels does, but trust and believe, we are not the same.

Not anymore, at least.

Which is why I don’t pay Reya any mind when she walks to the podium in the middle of lunch to remind everyone to come out for the Annual School Fashion Show auditions next period.

“Just so you know, I’ve convinced teachers to issue thirty-minute passes for any student who wants to audition. How’s that for school spirit?!” she says in that fake pep rally voice of hers.

Thunderous applause immediately rips through the cafeteria, showering the stylish queen bee with gratitude and reverence.

Listen, Reya Samuels and that two-hundred-dollar cashmere sweater she’s rocking well into the month of May just isn’t relatable enough for my applause. She’s busy lording over the cafeteria, offering the student body an opportunity to participate in a carefree after-school activity.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting at the cafeteria table closest to the trash cans with my friends Amara and Reed, working like a dog on an extracurricular side gig so I’ll be able to afford college come fall. I got into my dream school, Spelman, but even with financial aid, paying for everything is going to be a stretch. Food, books, transportation to and from the ATL . . . This side hustle and my shifts at my dad’s bookstore will put a tiny dent in it all, but let’s keep it real, until I’m rocking the white dress at New Student Orientation, there’s no guarantee I’ll have enough money to go.