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Also by Vanessa Saint

Disclaimer: This book is intended for adult readers 18+. THIS book contains dark themes of bullying, suicide, abuse and detailed sexual situations, and may not be suitable for all readers.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Ruined

Contains Dark themes and the first book in a series!*

Ruined

That’s what people call me.

Ever since it happened to my mom, I’ve only had one goal.

Discover the truth—no matter the cost.

But to find the answers I seek, I’ll have to dive into the dark underbelly that took her from me. Beneath the pristine surfaces of two elite rival colleges in Charleston, lies a world of wealth, power, and sickening corruption, that runs deeper than anyone could imagine.

And I intend to destroy it.

Problem is, I can’t do it alone.

I need help, and I’m willing to sacrifice my soul to get it.

That’s where they come in; Julian, Adam and Michael.

A friend, a stranger, an enemy—and the only ones who can help me.

But each of their help comes at a price, and by the time I’m done, I’ll have gone passed every moral and rational boundary I’ve ever known.

But I don’t care, because there is no coming back from where I intend to go.

You see, the danger in surrounding yourself with monsters, is that there’s a good chance you’ll eventually become one…

This is a dark bully romance intended for readers 18+. This book contains dark themes, including abuse, violence, suicide and sexual relationships that some readers might be uncomfortable with.

There were some dreams that I didn’t care if I forgot, and then there were others that I would have given anything to hold onto.

In my dreams, my mother was brushing my dirty-blonde hair until it was as soft as silk. She always had so much patience. Never getting angry when I yelled at her about pulling too hard on the knots and tangles that always found their way to the bottom of long, straight hair.

Even when I was in high school, I would still ask her to do it sometimes. She always managed to get a sheen from my hair that I could never seem to replicate. That was the thing about moms. They always knew ways to make things . . . better.

As much as I wanted these moments to be real again, I could always tell they weren’t.

My mom never smiled that much in real life. She tried, especially whenever I was around to notice her mood, but much of the time, her smile masked a pain no one knew about.

Not even me.

But in my dreams, whatever worries weighed her down in the real world didn’t exist here. In my dreams, she smiled constantly. I listened to her hum a soft melody, one she probably overheard from my iTunes playlist again and found pretty. Once she’d finished combing my hair, she braided it, and then whispered into my ear about how strong I was. How smart I was. How I would do great things now that I was in college.

God, I miss that.

I tried to hold on to the sound of her voice. Even when I felt myself waking up, I pressed my eyes closed to linger in the dream for just a moment longer. But no matter how desperately I tried, I could never hold on for long enough.

And then came the worst part—the waking up. It was as if my brain had to realize all over again that my mother was dead. On the nights I dreamt of my mom, I always woke in an anxious, cold sweat, terror clawing at my stomach as if she were being freshly murdered each and every time.

And murder is what happened to her—regardless of what anyone else claimed.

I swallowed down my pain, just as I had done every day since, and got out of bed.

I stumbled over to the bathroom, tying my hair into a messy bun that rested on the crown of my head and wobbled with each step. Day three hair always ended up in a bun, but even pulled back, I could tell that with my next shampoo, I’d have to spend time working out the knots before the whole thing became a giant tangle.

I hated when that day came.

Until you’ve lost someone, you can never understand how the small things you lose are the biggest things you miss. And I didn’t care about grooming my hair anymore after Mom died.