Today we’re spotlighting Lake Life by Tanya Boteju!
Read on for more about the author and the book!
About the Author: Tanya Boteju
Tanya Boteju lives on unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh First Nations (Vancouver, BC). Part-time, she teaches English to clever, sassy young people. The rest of her time, she uses writing as an excuse to eat pastries. Her debut novel, Kings, Queens, and In-Betweens, was named a Top Ten Indie Next Pick by the American Booksellers Association. In both teaching and writing, Tanya looks to bend the universe even the tiniest bit toward justice.
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About the Book: Lake Life
Perfect for fans of Becky Albertalli, this charming, chaotic romance follows two teens who agree to fake-date when stuck together one summer in a quirky, scenic lake town.
This is definitely not how Maya wanted to spend the summer—depressed at her once-beloved cabin in Spruce Lake, and unable to avoid seeing her lifelong best friend, Rashida, after confessing her woefully unrequited love to her last year. Maya can’t decide if she wants to escape, or convince Rashida they’re still meant to be.
Gabe is sent to Spruce Lake by her mom in hopes she stays out of trouble. Gabe is NOT excited to be here. She does NOT like nature. She does NOT want to spend her summer in a tiny town with outdoorsy environmentalist types.
Gabe is pretty sure she’ll be spending this entire summer bored and alone…until she meets Maya. Together, they hatch a fake-dating scheme to make Rashida jealous and convince Gabe’s mom that Gabe has turned a wholesome new leaf.
But as the plan plays out, and Gabe and Maya contend with protests, a relentlessly concerned community, and romantic twists, they start to realize that their assumptions about friendship and love might have led them completely astray. Can they find their way through this mess without hurting each other in the process?
~Excerpt~
1.
I need to get to my spot. After finding it back when I was twelve, I set up a hammock (that I named Ruth, after one of my favorite characters in my favorite book, Fried Green Tomatoes) and stashed a couple of important items in a waterproof box next to the pond.
It was the only place in Spruce Lake I’d kept for myself—Rish knew I had a spot, but she didn’t know where it was, and she seemed to get why I needed it. I’ve always liked a bit more alone time than her. But I’d imagined sharing it with her at some point—after we were officially together. I would bring her here, and it would be like magic, revealing this place to her that had been just for me, but was now for us.
Except.
A half-naked white girl is lying on Ruth right now, her eyes closed, one bare foot propped over the edge of the canvas. Her bright red bikini pops off her light skin and very full, very curvy body. She has dark brown hair that sprawls around her face, and even from where I’m standing, maybe fifteen feet away, I can see she has several piercings in at least one ear. One hand is visible where it loosely grips the edge of the hammock, and both her fingernails and toenails are painted a bright red that matches her bathing suit. A tiny tattoo I can’t quite make out sits just above her hip bone.
I’ll admit, it’s not a terrible sight, but . . . that’s my hammock.
Who are you, and what are you doing on Ruth?
I’m perplexed. After a morning of annoying, painful conversations, my instinct is to creep away, silent and unseen.
But . . . this is my place. My special place. And I really need it right now.
“Um,” I say, genius that I am.
The girl doesn’t move.
I take two steps forward. “Excuse me,” I try, a little louder.
Nothing.
“PARDON ME.” Finally, her eyes pop open, and she sits up with a start, which you just don’t want to do in a hammock. She loses her balance and flops out of Ruth onto the—lucky for her—soft forest floor beneath.
Only she doesn’t see how lucky she is. “What the actual fuck?” she yells from where she’s lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She finds me with her glare, and part of me wants to just run away, but another part of me is very defensive of this place.
“Oops. Sorry. I just—I—this is kind of my spot.”
She scrambles to her feet and brushes off nonexistent dirt like she’s being attacked by it or something. Not exactly one with nature, it seems.
“Your spot? Like, you own it or something?”
She’s gorgeous, but I can also tell she’s a jerk, and I find the whole package a little jarring. I’m also in no mood for her attitude.
“Well . . . no. But I set up that hammock that your practically bare butt was on, and I’ve been coming here for years for peace and quiet.”
“My butt is not bare.”
“I said practically.”
We stare at each other for a moment or two.
“You could’ve been less abrupt,” she says.
“I tried to be, but you weren’t responding.”
“Right—because I was sleeping.” She rolls her eyes like she actually has a reason to. “I should have known this spot was too good to be true.”
She moves to get her clothes from on top of my stash box. I watch as she pulls on her jean shorts and crop top, trying very hard not to notice her butt cheeks still visible beneath the hem of her shorts, or her soft-looking stomach, or the cleavage rising above her shirt.
I’m obviously failing at not noticing.
She catches me, and my cheeks get hot. A smirk lifts her lips, and my cheeks grow even hotter.
She taps her flip-flop against the lid of the box. “What’s in here?”
I shrug. “Just a blanket and book.”
“What book? Something dirty?”
Funny enough, when I was younger and first read Fried Green Tomatoes, I did think I was getting away with something. It was the first time I’d read a book with a romance between two women, and I thought Idgie and Ruth were badass. I always keep a copy of it in the stash box.
“What? No. Maybe that’s the kind of stuff you read,” I say, knowing I sound juvenile.
“And? Nothin’ wrong with a little of that kind of dirt.” She’s still smirking as she walks toward me.
I roll my eyes now, losing patience for this cocky girl already.
“So this is your secret spot, huh?” she says, when she stops a foot in front of me.
“Yeah. It is.” She places her palms backward against her hips, which only thrusts out her chest more. She’s definitely not shy. “Why d’you need a secret spot?”
To get the hell away from rejection and my annoying family and everyone’s pity, I think, but instead say, “Who doesn’t need a spot to call their own?”
She studies me for a moment. Then she shrugs. “I don’t.”
“But you liked this spot.”
“I need a tan. The sun was there.” She turns a little sheepish. “And maybe I couldn’t find the beach.”
My eyebrows lift a little at this admission. “You’re new here, then?”
“Obviously. Do I look like I’m from here?” This needles me. “Do I?” I ask, and immediately regret it as she eyes me up and down and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Whatever,” I say. “Are you visiting?”
“Unfortunately,” she says.
“Okayyyy . . . ?” I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t. I really don’t want to stand here while this girl judges me, and so I decide the only way to get her out of here is to take her to where she was going. At least she doesn’t know anything about me or last summer, and her judgment is reserved for this moment, not any previous ones. “Do you want me to show you where the beach is?”
She looks surprised by my offer. “What about your ‘peace and quiet’?”
I shrug. “The beach isn’t that far. I can come back. Call it small-town hospitality.” Then, hospitably, I add, “My name is Maya, by the way.”
She considers me, her eyes narrowing. But then she shrugs and says, “Sure. Why not?” like she’s doing me a favor. “I’m Gabe.”
We walk for a minute in silence through a shortcut to the beach. Well, almost in silence. Gabe curses under her breath at least four times as she lurches through foliage behind me.
“Is this really the way to the beach?”
“It’s a shortcut.”
“Can we take the long cut?”
“This is way faster,” I say, meaning, I can drop you off and get back to some peace and quiet faster. Feeling a little spiteful, I add, “Although the beach isn’t that far. And the regular path is pretty clear. Not sure how anyone can get lost on the way.”
She scoffs. “Thanks for pointing that out. So much for smalltown hospitality, I guess?” she says.
“I’m taking you there, aren’t I?”
“Sure. I might die from thorn punctures and a branch to the gut, but your generosity is noted.”
I roll my eyes again and immediately think of Rashida. She’d find this girl aggravating as hell and would say something sharp and witty about her. Then we’d laugh and push through the foliage with no trouble at all, because that’s just the way it is with us.
Gabe stumbles and bumps into me, interrupting my pesky thoughts. She grabs my arm to keep her balance, cursing again.
“All right there?” I ask, a tiny bit amused by this ridiculous girl. Something about her complete incongruity with this place is actually kind of refreshing. Maybe it’s just nice meeting someone who knows nothing about me or my embarrassment.
She drops her hands from my arm and narrows her eyes at me. “Enjoying this, are you?”
I shrug and keep walking, unable to keep the smile off my lips.
Title: Lake Life
Author: Tanya Boteju
Release Date: 5/26/2026
Publisher: Quill Tree Books
Genre: YA sapphic romance
Age Range: 13+
