Christine Evans doesn't remember why she played her hand in the suicide game, or why the boy with eyes of red urged her to. Christine Evans couldn't understand why, on the anniversary of that same attempted suicide, a boy with eyes of indigo appeared seemingly out of nowhere and why he looked so damn familiar. Christine Evans, as surely all heroines are, is special and caught in a dance between two men with eyes of colour no eyes should have any business being. What might be the price of the truth behind an attempted suicide and the cost of understanding the mystery around Red and Indigo? Christine Evans may just have to risk more than her soul to find out. My days, is this blurb pretentious enough...please do let me know...

When faced with a time loop, an adorable boyfriend, and impending death, you can, may, and probably will experience crazy stuff. But that's good; crazy is good. It means that something's going on. And that's what we need to have a story.

They reminded me of Peter Pan's Lost Boys, wild and rebellious, but all grown up in a way that could only be described in one word: sexy.

"Tate Moore is fucking psychotic." He stared at me blankly, like he hadn't just insulted himself. He snapped his gum, as my mouth hung open. Then something completely unexpected happened. He plucked the gum from his mouth and stuck it on my nose, thumb pressing it onto my skin until in stayed. I blinked in shock as he ducked forward and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was short and brief, and he pulled away with that same expressionless look. I could feel the cool air drying the gum on my sniffer as he said, "Now, Poppy Dawson is fucking crazy, too."

"When he first heard her, he knew. She was his bestseller." Before there were great stories, there were only words. Luke's were smart and eloquent but hollow. It was nothing like Emma's story, bleak and awkward, but honest to a fault. This is a coming-of-age journey of a writing prodigy in search of a story, his story, and a doe-eyed, homeless storyteller stifled by secrets, her secrets .

❝In which dorky, quirky, super-duper nice and anything-but-cool, Liam Argent, transforms into a loud, arrogant and belligerent bad boy in hopes of catching the eye of a girl who's clearly not worth it.❞ Copyright © 2014 All Rights Reserved. [extended summary inside] [very ROUGH draft: plot holes, grammar mistakes, and missing words]

"Write down one word that describes you." psy·cho·path noun noun: psychopath; plural noun: psychopaths a person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behavior. ⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄ "I'm psychopathic..." Oliver muttered as he glared at me suspiciously and condescendingly. He was waiting for me to run away. Grinning widely to piss him off, I shrugged. "If you're a psychopath, then I must be a lunatic. Because I like you. And because of that, I'm not leaving." He'd watched me stand my ground because we'd surely been through way too much for me to give up now. A small smile spread through his emotionless facade and in a second, he was back to who I really saw him for. He let out a laugh, "Do you have a death wish?" S L O W U P D A T E S C O V E R B Y @ZiaDavis

Growing up, Abigail Lee made wishes on everything. From eyelashes to shooting stars, or birthday candles and many 11:11's, she wished. And each time she wished, it was all on the same thing, for the same person each and every time. For him. © rinapoo33 2013

"And it seems the famous Lolita killer has caught herself another victim." -SOME PARTS OF THIS STORY MAY BE TRIGGERING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED-