Last Dance at the Kitten Club

Abbey's not a bad writer, but she's a terrible journalist. Forced to work at a small bookstore after losing her job, she decides to work on a personal project: recreating a story about 1920s Chicago told by her late grandfather-a story that may or may not be true.

Only her co-worker Finn is frustratingly directionless (even if he is attractive), strangers are running pub quizzes in her store, her roommate going on tour with her band, and one of her customers might be a psychopath.

Oh, and the bookstore is located above a sex shop. Perfect.

People tell Abbey she needs to lighten up, but how can she when the world is so darn annoying? Can't a girl just write in peace?