Tucked in the tall, rugged hills of limestone and granite in Texas Hill Country sits Bradford Academy, boarding school to the offspring of Texas’s elite. Bradford Academy houses and shapes the minds of the sons and daughters of senators, oil tycoons, large ranch owners and foreign billionaires. These kids are filthy rich, entitled and authority means nothing to them. They can have anything they want, go anywhere they want and do anything they want. Even get away with murder.

Dare Book Trailer

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Fallon Teaser
(c) Rowdy Rooksy

"No open seats. Let's just go to the back," I say and turn to head towards the back of the room. I'm stopped cold as my body slams into solid muscle. "My bad," I mumble as I look up and connect with the most arresting blue-violet eyes I've ever seen. 

Those blue-violet eyes narrow and take me in from head to toe and back up again. Chills run down my spine as I stare at the boy they belong to. His features are perfect in a dangerously handsome sort of way. His hair, perfectly wavy and the color of midnight falls precariously across his forehead. His lips are full, pink and totally kissable and his smell. Oh gawd! He smells like black licorice and cola. I'm not sure what it is about that combination but but it's intoxicating. 

I reach for the edge of the seat at the end of the row to steady myself and keep from swooning. What the hell is wrong with me? This is the third time this morning that the sight of some boy has me all hot and bothered.

Bexley Barringer Teaser
​(c) Rowdy Rooksy

“Crap,” Devya says, the word barely audible.
I shoot her a look and for the first time all day she actually looks a bit nervous. “What?” I ask.
“Bexley,” is all she says.
Clearly, she’s referring to one of the blondes. Which one, I’m not sure. The seven of them make their way to our table. Lucca and Alisander take a seat but the girls remain standing.
“So, you’re the stray I’ve been hearing about,” the bombshell says a nasty sneer gracing her pretty mouth.
“Here we go,” Alisander says, leaning back in his chair.
“Hey Bexley, this is-” Devya starts to introduce me but Bexley holds up a finger shushing her before she can even get my name out.
“Wasn’t talking to you, Devya darling,” she says, her steely gaze fixed on me.
My hands curl into fist and press into my thighs as I brace myself for whatever vitriol Bexley is about to reign on me.
“You’re even more homely looking than Tatum said,” she laughs and the group of hens standing with her join in.
“You must be Bexley,” I say.
​“I am,” she says. She leans over the table, pointing a manicured finger at me. “And you, stray bitch, are sitting at the wrong table. You see, this here table belongs to us,” she gestures towards everyone else at the table. “Bradford’s cream of the crop, top of the food chain, the pure bloods and some accidental transplant from bumfuck Nebraska is not welcome at this table.”
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