Dreams of 18(117)
A girl I’ve loved since the first time I saw her.
My beauty.
My Violet.
THE END
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Coming 2020
Welcome to St. Mary’s School for Troubled Teenagers: an all-girls reform school where bad girls are sent to become good.
Here rules are iron-clad.
Girls are still bad and wild, albeit secretly.
And no boys are allowed. Like, ever.
Meaning crushing on the principal’s hot son, Arrow, who’s visiting for a few weeks from college and sending him naughty love letters – just for fun – is a big no-no.
If only the new bad girl, Salem Salinger, cared about that. And if only the broody and dark, Arrow Carlisle, cared about her…
ADD ON GOODREADS
My husband: As always, he’s my strength and my reason to do all of this. Thank you for being my very first and true champion.
My parents and my sister: Thank you for being so supportive and enthusiastic about my very unconventional career choice.
Sophia Karlson: Thank you for your time and invaluable suggestions that made this manuscript shine.
Bella Love: Thank you for being my friend right from the start and sticking with me through the good and the bad. And thank you for reading the book and giving me your amazing feedback.
Danielle Sanchez: I’m so glad that we crossed paths earlier this year. You’re so innovative and talented, and I’m so happy to have you in my corner.
Melissa Panio-Peterson: Thank you for always being my cheerleader. I adore you and your enthusiasm.
My team: Najla Qamber – my cover designer who made this gorgeous cover; Leanne Rabesa – for always cleaning up manuscripts and keeping track of timelines and seasons; Virginia Tesi Carey – for being so easy going about things and for a keen eye that catches everything.
My readers: I want to thank all my readers (blogging and non-blogging) for always supporting me and taking the time to read my words. You guys put a smile on my face every day.
Writer of bad romances. Aspiring Lana Del Rey of the Book World.
Saffron A. Kent is a USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary and New Adult romance. More often than not, her love stories are edgy, forbidden and passionate. Her work has been featured in Buzzfeed, Huffington Post, New York Daily News and USA Today’s Happy Ever After.
She has an MFA in creative writing and she lives in New York City with her nerdy and supportive husband. Along with a million and one books.
She is represented by Meire Dias of Bookcase Agency
www.saffronkent.com
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I remember the day I lost my mind.
The sun was out, and the day was bright. It was fucking miserable.
Through the window of my apartment, I saw people jogging, cycling, laughing in Central Park. The birds were chirping and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.
Did I mention it was miserable?
Yeah, I remember everything about that day. Every single thing. But that’s not the worst part.
The worst part is that everyone else remembers it too. And the thing about everyone else remembering is that they don’t ever forget it. And they don’t let you forget it, either.
As if you need any more reminders.
As if you don’t relive those moments in very vivid and graphic detail. The day you crossed over to the other side.
The side where the crazies live.
I’ve always straddled that line and done a great job of staying on the sane side. Because unfortunately, everyone else in my family is sane and un-crazy. I’ve always wanted something in common with them. Other than my silver hair, that is.
I come from a family of silver-haired and green-eyed women. Also, tall.
Taylor women are tall and willowy and stunning and have been for generations. It’s our signature, actually. Not to mention fashionable and successful.
We own a boutique clothing store called Panache on Madison Avenue that caters to the old-money New Yorkers and Upper East Siders.
When I was born, my mom, my grandma, my aunt, my older cousin who was eight at the time, they all thought I’d be like them. In fact, they were so confident about my Taylor-ness that they’d already decided on a name suitable for a Taylor baby: Willow.
They shouldn’t have.
There’s nothing willowy about me. I’m not delicate or graceful or tall.
Except for the legendary silver hair, I don’t possess any of the Taylor qualities. My eyes are a startling shade of blue. I’m too short and my fashion sense is a pair of shorts, sneakers, and t-shirts with Harry Potter quotes.
But the thing that bothers me the most is that I was born with something more than blood in my veins. Something extra-terrestrial, alien, quite possibly blue-colored – hence the weird, un-Taylor color of my eyes. Something dark and shadowy, with long claw-like fingers. Something that has weighed me down all my life.