The Fault In Our Maids

Maids are all bitches.

Aren't they?

For years, Genevieve has struggled with the utter lack of good help. Her rather provocative, somewhat perverse father employed four maids before he died - with a contract that ensured their employment until Genevieve turned eighteen years, two months, four weeks, sixteen days, four hours, three minutes, and four - three - two - you know what I mean.

Roshanda - the sassy one.

Obamanique - the sassy one.

Monique - the sassy one.

Clatiqwa - the sassy one.

They were all horrendous. The toast was never toasted enough, the bread never bready enough, the sheets sheeted enough. Worst of all, the sky was never blue enough. Morons. This is the story of one summer, when Genevieve and her maids do something they never thought they'd do. Hate each other even more. Also they start a book club.