Showing results by author "C.M. Stunich" in All Categories

There’s one mistake you don’t make at Prescott High, not unless you want me to ruin you. Do not touch my beautifully broken Havoc Boys. Harbin, Fadler, Channing-Blackbird, Montauk, and Park. Death stalks the halls of Prescott High. Once upon a time, my best friend betrayed me. For over a year, I let that two-faced bitch go. But not anymore. This time, she’s stirred up the devil in me.

Whoa, there. Stop right now. You don’t want to listen to this. Trust me. You really don’t want to listen to this. So back away slowly, hands up, and I won’t have to kill you. They might, though. They might be willing to warm my bed, but I wouldn’t say I trusted them. Just a bunch of psychos, really. My three f--kboys, my three psychos.

Break the rich boys. It’s tricky, but doable. Jerks like them don’t deserve to rule Burberry Prep. No, Tristan, Zayd, and Creed are going to pay, and I plan to make an example of them. Then, there’s Zack, the varsity football d*ck. Oh, and did I mention a prince just transferred to the academy? Whatever will I do with those two? Revenge is wicked sweet; I can’t wait for a taste.

Finding out you’re the daughter of a millionaire true crime novelist isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. When I was two, I was kidnapped. Kidnapped by a loving family, sure, but still kidnapped. Now, my biological mom wants me to live with her on the opposite side of the country. Her…and my new stepdad and his jerk of a son: Parrish.

Hi, I'm Eve Wakefield, twenty-five years old, professional caterer, recently abducted by aliens alongside my best friend. I'm also completely and utterly screwed. Lost on a jungle planet. Rooming in a downed spaceship with a dragon dude. Being hunted by a moth man with demon eyes and vampire teeth. Begging for help from a tentacle-tailed fox man who also happens to be… a space cowboy?

I'm the princess to a dirty throne of motorcycles and madness, daughter of the president of the Death by Daybreak Motorcycle Club. My father's four closest officers—men dressed in blood and death and sin—they're my honor guard, cloaked in leather vests and tattoos. Only, there's nothing honorable about them at all. They're all wrong for me. Every motorcycle club has its old ladies. These guys...they share one. They share me .

I fell through the Looking-Glass; I got back home. But get this: I didn't come alone. Oh, and it doesn't feel like home anymore. Unlike Alice in the original story, this is not my Wonderland.

I’m the salvation for the dirty throne of the city’s underworld, the only person who can secure a future for the Death by Daybreak Motorcycle Club. There are few people in this world whom I can trust—a mafia brat, a soon-to-be nun, and four lascivious demons—but that’ll have to be enough, or we’ll all burn together in glorious flame. Only, there’s no telling what my father will do now that he knows the truth.

Break the new girl. That should be easy, right? Trash like her doesn’t belong at Burberry Prep. No, Marnye Reed is going down, and we plan to make a spectacle out of it. Let’s see who can make her fall in love first. Bet’s on. Any takers? Take on the filthy rich boys. They’re the idols of the school, veritable gods on earth. Old money. New money. A rising star. These guys are nothing like the ones at my old school. I might come from nothing, but I’m determined to be someone, and I won’t let them get in my way.

These forgotten witches aren't too wicked to fall for. A coven of shadows with a curse on my heart and my house. They bake f*cked-up cupcakes in my kitchen and unalive influencers in my front yard. These men make zombies out of their own relatives, and a panting mess out of their own wife. The Witchwoods are a violent stain on the world. Eradicating that blight is worth the dirty, rotten things we do. With a second coven's sacrifice, we can close the gate. Locking the Hag Wytch in her supernatural prison has to be easier with more witches.

Shh, I have a secret. The sinfully gorgeous members of the Student Council—Church, Ranger, Spencer, Micah and Tobias—can't ever find out. I already get picked on because my father's the headmaster. I don't need them to know I’m the only girl, too; I’d rather dress like a boy. Adamson All-Boys Academy now has its only female student, but I'm not about to be their guinea pig. Not when there's a secret at this school nobody is talking about. Not when the last female student here ended up dead.

Senior year is my year. This year, I'm going to bring down my enemies. This year, I'm going to run my tongue along the blade of vengeance and taste blood. The Havoc Boys are mine, and we were here first. You don't mess with a Havoc Girl without paying the price. You don't start a rebellion without a little bloodshed. My boys and I don't mind using two wrongs to make a right - I just hope our brewing obsession with one another doesn't kill us all first.

I’m the queen to a dirty throne of men and mania, a dissenter who's supposed to be a quiet accomplice to the Death by Daybreak Motorcycle Club. The four wicked men I’ve summoned are like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse—albeit dressed in leather and riding chrome stallions—and I’m the last judgement, bringing the end of the world as the club knows it. Only, it’s with my own hands bathed in blood and betrayal.

Psst, I know a secret. The same secret that the Student Council—the super-rich, super handsome elite of Adamson All-Boys Academy—knows, too. Jenica Woodruff, the only girl to ever attend the academy before I showed up, didn't commit suicide: she was murdered. Now, someone is after me, too, but no matter where I go, the killer follows. My new high school isn't safe, and turns out, neither is my old one.

Um. Um. Um. Are you reading this? If you are, I need your help. I was at a party; I was running; I fell. And get this - this is the part you'll never believe - I fell down a rabbit hole. Like Alice in those old books. Except in those books, there wasn't blood everywhere. In those books, the characters weren't all male, attractive, and interested in me.

There's one heart you can’t break at Prescott High, not unless you’re one of them. The Havoc Boys. They’re my family, my redemption, and my future. Victory at Prescott High has always meant escape. Once upon a time, that meant graduation and a one-way ticket out of town. But everything is different now. This year, my life changed in irrevocable ways. The Havoc Boys have a Havoc Girl; they have a queen who wears her crown with pride. I’ll need every ounce of strength I possess to dig us out of an early grave.

They tricked me into a dark and unholy union. Three bastards in witch hats, leather pants, and iron masks. These supernatural stalkers have claimed me for their coven. They won't go away. These assholes will. not. leave. All because I fell for an urban legend: touch the Witch's Tree on a moonless night and discover magic. Wholesome magic like: kinky rituals, blood sacrifice, and jizz potions. Oh, and a forest god who eats people—while they're still alive and screaming. Send help, and I'll send cupcakes.

I did not intentionally get my butt stuck to a frozen toilet seat. I did not mean to spray my favorite singer in the face with pepper spray. Promise: I'm just a fangirl, not a stalker. Pop-rock band, Inked Pages, has just rescued this failed bookshop owner from a desolate rest stop. These four spicy rockstars plan to drop me off at home and skedaddle to their ultra-viral holiday concert. But the blizzard is a Christmas miracle in disguise.

Dearest Listener…. My story is cancelled. Sharing my words thus far has only put us both in danger. It’s better to just call the whole thing off, before somebody gets hurt. Or maybe, just maybe, you are the one who keeps spilling my secrets. That it? You sold me out? I knew it; I knew I couldn’t trust you.

My name is Arizona Smoke, and I'm the proud owner of a house haunted by my dead Gram, best friend to a cocktail dress loving werewolf, and apparent soul mate to four plumbers who also happen to be elemental dragons. Besides rippling pectorals, tattoos, and … uh, nice, long pipes, the guys also have control of the elements. Supernatural law (whoever heard of such a thing anyway?) dictates that since I stumbled upon the guys in their alternate forms, I have to marry them. All four of them. Oh, and apparently one lousy (okay, awesome) night of sex means that I'm an elemental, too—and no amount of magical penicillin can cure this disease.