The Roses Academy
The Entire Collection
Tara Brown
Copyright
This is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2011 Tara Brown
This work is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This work may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written consent of the publisher.
Published by Tara Brown.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No alteration of content is permitted.
Printed in the United States of America
Cover Art by Dark Tree Designs
Edited by Andrea Burns
All rights reserved
ISBN-13: 9780463874875
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Contents
Volume 1
Cursed
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
The End
Volume 2
Bane
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
The End
Volume 3
Hyde
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
The End
Volume 4
Witch
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
The End
Volume 5
Death
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
The End
Volume 6
Blackwater
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
The End
Volume 7
Midnight Coven
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
The End
Volume 8
Redeemers
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapt
er 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
The End
Volume 9
Betrayers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
The End
Crimson Cove Vol. One
Pretty Girls Die First
Other YA Books by Tara Brown
About the Author
For my girls
Volume One
Chapter 1
Senior year
Port Mackenzie, 2010
“Aimee?”
I glanced up from my pages of scribbles. My daydreaming and doodling had gotten the best of me again.
“Aimee?”
Ms. Simms, my English teacher, offered a zesty stare. She was giving me the look she gave bad kids. I glanced behind her to the board, trying to figure out what we were doing.
Twelfth Night.
“Well?” She tapped her toes and crossed her arms. My Morse code was rusty, but I translated enough of it to know she was pissed off. “What’s the theme Shakespeare is trying to hide beneath the themes we easily see?” The way she asked hinted she might have already done that a few times.
“Oh, uhh”—I cleared my throat—“beyond the obvious themes of the folly in ambition and the uncertainty of gender, Shakespeare, as he always did, liked to use the theme of love as a means to suffering, as if it were a weapon. Twelfth Night is one of many plays where this theme is present.” I sounded like her.
Ms. Simms smirked. “Nice answer.” She didn’t sound as if she thought it was a nice answer. “Pay attention.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And there it was.
The difference between the other spaced-out morons she normally gave that look to and me: I actually knew enough to get lost and still pass the class.
She was back to nattering while I noticed the eyes of my fellow underachievers stuck on me.
My focus darted to the right, catching a gaze narrowing in on me. “Nice answer. How do you pull that outta your butt?” Shane—sigh. That was my brain’s version of his name. His eyes sucked me in, bright blue with thick, dark lashes. I barely noticed the smugness in his face while he made fun of me. “You are such a nerd.”
“Whatever.” I looked back down, fighting the urge to stare back at him. It was hard. He was everything. The whole package. And if even I noticed him, with my heart covered by a mile of frost and snow, he was hot.
He chuckled and turned back to Ms. Simms who rattled on about the themes I’d given her. Her passion for Shakespeare was undeniable.
She was single.
A cat lover.
Essentially me in fifteen years.
It was a sad fact I was slowly getting comfier with.
Seeing her passion for it made me realize I couldn’t ever be an English teacher. No single females should ever teach English. Austen, Hardy, Brontë, and Shakespeare abused our already tattered hearts with prose, but adding the undeniably perfect male characters was setting a spinster up for failure. No modern man could compare to Mr. Darcy or Captain Wentworth.
Except maybe Shane. Sigh.
I got lost in the way he made the classroom glow brighter, letting the creepy staring and sighing go for ten more seconds before I forced my gaze back to Ms. Simms. I reminded myself to forget I had ever wanted him. He was dating my sister which made him a no-go.
In my peripheral he moved and flicked something at me, a ball of paper. “Did I mention I might need a tutor if I want to grad?”
“It’s too late for you, Shane. Year’s almost up.” I smiled wide, unable to stop myself from teasing. I was far too comfortable with him to be as attracted as I was.
“The year’s not up, Aimes. There’s always hope. If I ace the final, I might actually get into college.”
“No. You should have applied to colleges last year.”
He seemed to want to say something else but didn’t. He just shrugged and grinned.
While I fought the urge to sigh aloud.
That smile had once been my food.
The bell rang, saving me from whatever else we might have awkwardly said to one another. My responses wouldn't have been witty or intelligent. More akin to something Ms. Simms might have said while accidentally dumping tea on her cardigan and blouse.
Ms. Simms shouted homework and other things at us, but I jumped up and grabbed my books, fleeing the class as Shane called my name.
When I got to my locker my hands fumbled with the cold metal lock, in a panic to hide my crimson cheeks within its small opening. The second the lock popped I pulled the door open and leaned inside, shielded.
In the safety of the small opening, I took deep breaths and tried to convince myself Shane hadn’t actually flirted with me.
“Aimee.” I winced when he spoke from the other side of the metal door.
“Yeah?” I took my last deep breath and closed the locker, smiling up at him. “Hey.”
Why had Shane followed me to my locker?
“I need to ask something.” He took a step toward me as if we weren’t already close enough. Naturally, I backed up but he missed the social cue and put a hand on my closed locker, stepping nearer and blocking my path. “I was wondering if you were coming to my party.”
“What?” I’d heard him, I just didn’t understand.
“Yeah. I’m having a party.” He peered down at me in a way that melted the ice around my heart. I let myself believe his eyes held emotion that stretched beyond the simple question he had asked. “You haven’t been to a party the entire year, and it’s senior year and you’re going away to college. Who knows how long before we see each other again—all of us? I just thought, you know, ‘cause it’s been a while and stuff.” He winced the second he said it, like he regretted what he was hinting at. His regret didn’t stop the clenching feeling in my belly.