Very Twisted Things
A Standalone Briarcrest Academy Novel #3
by New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills
Release Date: March 1, 2015
This is a standalone New Adult novel with graphic sex and language.
Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.
But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.
After being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.
Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who's lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.
He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.
When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.
Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.
I, Violet St. Lyons, who once believed herself the luckiest girl in the world, was born on the same day that the Violette–Sells comet was discovered. My parents, two avid stargazers, said it was a sign of how special I was and promptly named me Violet. They claimed my life had been blessed with fairy dust.
At the very least, comet residue.
I’d foolishly believed it for eighteen years, until the moment of my death.
Which was now.
Boom! Another explosion rocked the plane and metal ripped away as a section of the aircraft to my right vanished. Luggage flew through the air. People disappeared. The mom with the baby who’d sat in the aisle across from us—gone. The redheaded flight attendant who’d been collecting trash—gone. Disembodied screams echoed from the surrounding passengers as my own scream took up most of the space in my head. Air sucked at us viciously from the outside as a tornado of people banged around the space and one by one got pulled out into the swirling abyss.
I watched, helplessly transfixed, as I sat between my parents, gripping each of their hands as the plane we’d boarded six hours earlier for Dublin spiraled toward the Atlantic Ocean. I was going to die. My mother was already dead, a twisted piece of shrapnel sticking grotesquely from her chest as her head lolled around her neck. Blood had already soaked her shirt, yet I refused to let go of her hand. She’d be okay. We were always okay. We were the St. Lyons family of Manhattan, an icon of old money wealth with deep political ties. Page six of the New York Times featured pictures of us on a monthly basis. We couldn’t die on a plane.
Reality dawned as we plummeted. The yellow breathing apparatus dropped and dangled in my face, taunting me with its pointlessness. Fire and black smoke boiled in front of us where the cockpit had been, and my mind recognized that the pilots had to be dead. Just a few minutes ago, they’d come over the intercom and announced that the plane was making its descent into Dublin Airport exactly on schedule.
Then the first explosion had gone off.
Bits of debris flew around, narrowly missing me. My elderly father grabbed my hand and squeezed, his face drawn back in a horrible grimace. Fear and then horror flickered across his face as he saw Mother, but there was no time to comfort him.
Paralyzed in my seat, we spun like a drunken top, and a part of my brain noticed the sun was rising, its pink tinge lending a soft glow, catching the reflection of clouds and making them silver-lined. The rocky coast of Ireland glittered in the distance. Mocking me. We’d been headed there to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.
Just then my violin case flew past my head from the overhead compartment and crashed against the wall of the plane. Shards flew. I shuddered and wanted to vomit. God, help us. We were here because of me. Our deaths were my fault. I spared a glance at the diamond promise ring Geoff had given me before we’d left. Would the Mayor of New York’s son go on without me?
The air was turbulent yet thin, and my chest tightened as dizziness pulled at me. I resisted. Had to stay awake. Had to be with my dad. I was younger, stronger, faster. My eyes went to the gaping hole in the plane. Had to think ahead. Plan. Water would fill up the plane on impact, ensuring we’d sink rapidly.
My fear escalated as the ocean rushed at us, its surface choppy and ominous. I took in a giant breath and braced myself. We hit at an angle, the plane a torpedo as it sliced into the sea. Daddy disappeared, ejected by the impact, and I yanked on my seat belt, unclicking it to go after him. Heart thundering, I sent a final look at my mother. I wanted to take her with me, but she was gone.
Water everywhere, bubbling and gurgling as it filled up the plane. Salt water stung my eyes. People floated by, some alive as they floundered for the opening. I kept my gaze off the dead ones. Focus. Get out. Only seconds left.
I swam from my seat and fought my way out of the large hole in the plane, lungs exploding. Burning. I’d been under too long.
Daddy! I caught a glimpse of his red shirt above me and kicked harder.
Up, up, up. Must get up. My arms moved. My legs kicked. Excruciating pain. Ignore it. Almost there. So close that I could see the daylight breaking through the water.
The hottest fire I’ve ever known lit in my chest. Scorching. Air. Just want to breathe. Just get to the top. Please.
My body rebelled and I inhaled and swallowed water, the burn racing down my throat making it spasm as I tried to cough it out. I struggled but took in more and more, the cold liquid filling my lungs.
Dark spots filled my eyes. This was drowning.
My body twitched. I grew disoriented.
I let go of the fight. My hands floated in front of me.
No bright lights, no tunnel.
No heaven, no mother, no father.
No fairy dust.
© Ilsa Madden-Mills 2015 Very Twisted Things
Can Ilsa Madden Mills write a crappy book? No. She kills it every time. Plain and simple. Very Twisted Things is the third phenomenal story in her Briarcrest Academy Series and possibly my favorite so far.
This novel has all the familiar aspects I've come to expect in Ilsa's stories -- angst, bold, in your face lust and attraction between our hero and heroine, and a unique plot that is unlike anything in the published realm. She isn't afraid to write a prologue that is so horrifyingly gritty and raw your heart shatters before you've truly delved into reading Very Twisted Things. Instead of being scared away, you find yourself with a morbid hunger to read more and discover what comes next. Ilsa Madden-Mills destroys the standards set by other authors in her genre and raises the bar with every work she publishes. She's on a level all her own.
Get your hands on Very Twisted Things by Ilsa Madden-Mills and prepare to have your world rocked. This is a five-star must read book!
I think I fell in love with Sebastian Tate when we were first introduced to him in Very Bad Things. My love for him only grew during Very Wicked Things. And now I want to marry him and live happily ever after with him forever and ever!
This book is part of a series but you could totally read this book as a standalone. However, I HIGHLY recommend reading the other books, it will enhance your experience.
In Very Twisted Things, Sebastian is living in LA and is a hot rock star with the Vital Rejects. He is all grown up and far away from Briarcrest Academy. His new neighbor, Violet St Lyons, turns him into a peeping Tom. Violet isn’t only gorgeous she is a talented violinist. Every night she plays on her back patio and Sebastian can’t get enough.
I loved these characters so much. Their mutual attraction was the only part of their relationship. I think Violet is my favorite character of Ilsa Madden- Mills. She was so down to earth. Her sense of humor is hilarious. Violet is the type of person I want to be best friends with. And she didn’t let Sebastian take over her world. She still remained her own person.
This book is also Ilsa Madden- Mills sexiest book! And boy can she write a great sex scene. I will never look at a swing the same again! I loved every single word on the pages!
This author is an automatic one click for me!
BUY HER BOOKS HERE: http://amzn.to/1qNbF3y