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    All Good Things Come to an End: Free Teen eSampler
    All Good Things Come to an End: Free Teen eSampler
    All Good Things Come to an End: Free Teen eSampler
    Ebook84 pages1 hour

    All Good Things Come to an End: Free Teen eSampler

    By Kate Brian, Jessica Verday, Richard Yancey and

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    About this ebook

    These bestselling series may have ended, but it’s never too late to start reading them!

    This e-sampler features excerpts from the first books in each series.

    Private by Kate Brian
    The Hollow by Jessica Verday
    The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey
    Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld
    Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
    Release dateJul 5, 2011
    ISBN9781442445543
    All Good Things Come to an End: Free Teen eSampler
    Author

    Kate Brian

    Kate Brian is the author of the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling Private series and its spin-off series Privilege. She has also written many other books for teens including Sweet 16 and Megan Meade’s Guide to the McGowan Boys.

    Read more from Kate Brian

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      Book preview

      All Good Things Come to an End - Kate Brian

      SELECTIONS FROM

      Private

      The Hollow

      The Monstrumologist

      Leviathan

      Hush, Hush

      Tradition, honor, excellence… and secrets so dark they’re almost invisible.

      Fifteen-year-old Reed Brennan wins a scholarship to Easton Academy—the golden ticket away from her pill-popping mother and run-of-the-mill suburban life. But when she arrives on the beautiful, tradition-steeped campus of Easton, everyone is just a bit more sophisticated, a bit more gorgeous, and a lot wealthier than she ever thought possible. Reed realizes that even though she has been accepted to Easton, Easton has not accepted her. She feels like she’s on the outside, looking in.

      Until she meets the Billings Girls.

      They are the most beautiful, intelligent, and intensely confident girls on campus. And they know it. They hold all the power in a world where power is fleeting but means everything. Reed vows to do whatever it takes to be accepted into their inner circle.

      Reed uses every part of herself—the good, the bad, the beautiful—to get closer to the Billings Girls. She quickly discovers that inside their secret parties and mountains of attitude, hanging in their designer-clothing-packed closets, the Billings Girls have skeletons. And they’ll do anything to keep their secrets private.

      KATE BRIAN is the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Private series and its spin-off series, Privilege. She has also written many other books for teens including Sweet 16 and Megan Meade’s Guide to the McGowan Boys.

      Where I come from everything is gray. The bland, square strip malls. The water in the lake at the center of town. Even the sunlight has a murky quality. We barely get spring and we never get autumn. The leaves fall off the sickly trees early each September before they even have a chance to change, tumbling down on the shingled roofs of the standard-issue houses, each one exactly the same as the last.

      If you want to see beauty in Croton, Pennsylvania, you’ve got to sit in your ten-by-ten bedroom in your boring split-level house and close your eyes. You have to use your imagination. Some girls see themselves walking red carpets with movie-star boyfriends while flashbulbs pop. Others, I’m sure, go the princess route, conjuring up diamonds and tiaras and knights on white horses. All I imagined my entire ninth grade year was this:

      Easton Academy.

      How I found myself there, in the place of my daydreams, while the rest of my classmates were entering the dank dreariness of Croton High, I still am not totally sure. Something to do with my soccer and lacrosse skills, my grades, the stellar recommendation of outgoing Easton senior Felicia Reynolds (my brother Scott’s older, cooler ex), and I think a little bit of begging on my father’s part. But at this point, I didn’t care. I was there, and this place was everything I had dreamed it would be.

      As my dad drove our dented Subaru through the sunny streets of Easton, Connecticut, it was all I could do to keep from pressing my nose to the dog-slobbered window. The shops here had colorful cloth awnings and windows that gleamed. The streetlamps were the old-fashioned kind that were electric now, but had once been lit by a guy on a horse toting a pole and a flame. Potted plants hung from these lamps, bursting with bright red flowers, still dripping from a recent dousing with a garden hose.

      Even the sidewalks were pretty: neat and lined with brick, topped by towering oak trees. Beneath the shade of these trees, a pair of girls my age chatted their way out of a boutique called Sweet Nothings, swinging clear bags stacked with neatly folded sweaters and skirts. As out of place as I felt in my worn Lee jeans and my blue T-shirt, I had never wanted to live anywhere more than I wanted to live here, in Easton. I couldn’t believe that very soon I actually would. I felt something warm inside my chest. Something I had felt less and less over the last few years since my mother’s accident. I recognized it dimly as hope.

      Easton Academy is accessible by a small two-lane road, which winds up from town into the hills above. A small wooden sign on a short stone base marks the entrance to the school. EASTON ACADEMY ESTABLISHED 1858 it reads in faded letters. The sign is obscured by the low branch of a birch tree, as if to convey that if you belong here, you know where you are going, and if you do not, they aren’t going to great lengths to help you find your way.

      My father turned the car under the iron and brick archway and I was sucked in. Hard. Here were buildings of brick and stone, topped by shingled roofs and spires, tradition and pride oozing from every dated cornerstone. Here were ancient, weathered, arched doorways, thick wooden doors on iron hinges, cobblestone walks lined by neat beds of flowers. Here were pristine playing fields of bright green grass and

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