V.E. Schwab

This is a story about hunger.
1532. Santo Domingo de la Calzada.
A young girl grows up wild and wily—her beauty is only outmatched by her dreams of escape. But María knows she can only ever be a prize, or a pawn, in the games played by men. When an alluring stranger offers an alternate path, María makes a desperate choice. She vows to have no regrets.

This is a story about love.
1827. London.
A young woman lives an idyllic but cloistered life on her family’s estate, until a moment of forbidden intimacy sees her shipped off to London. Charlotte’s tender heart and seemingly impossible wishes are swept away by an invitation from a beautiful widow—but the price of freedom is higher than she could have imagined.

This is a story about rage. 

2019. Boston.
College was supposed to be her chance to be someone new. That’s why Alice moved halfway across the world, leaving her old life behind. But after an out-of-character one-night stand leaves her questioning her past, her present, and her future, Alice throws herself into the hunt for answers . . . and revenge.

This is a story about life—
how it ends, and how it starts.

Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil

Shiloh Stucky

"Some people keep their heart tucked so deep, they hardly know it's there. But you," she went on, turning back toward Charlotte, "you have always worn it like a second skin." She ran a hand down her daughter's arm. "Open to the world. You feel it all. The love and pain. The joy and hope and sorrow." She pulled Charlotte close, carrying the scent of the garden. Of home. "It will make your life harder," she said into her daughter's hair. "But it will also make it beautiful."

Cassidy Nolan

soft red petals hiding sharp white teeth.

Born restless, her father used to say. Which was fine for a son, but bad for a daughter.

Stand straighter, María. Be tidy, María. Have some modesty, María.

 She smiles and curtsies as she passes, a gesture with all the flair of a curse.

But María has known, all her life, that she is not meant for common paths, for humble houses and modest men. If she must walk a woman’s road, then it will take her somewhere new.

As if she did not see the hunger in his eyes and know that she could use it.

She had learned when to hold a look, and when to drop it. When to let a smile flicker like light on her lips, and when to bow her head.

When to be the predator, and when to play the part of prey.

“It is a happy day,” says her mother.

“Indeed,” says Rafa, looking as smug as Andrés, each convinced that 

 are the mind behind this meeting. As if she did not set the game and arrange the pins so all they had to do was knock them down.

The house has a heart and it is pounding.

She ducks into the hall, and there’s the front door, and past it, the mile walk back to the Yard, and it would be so easy to just leave, leave, go back to Matthews, which is probably a graveyard of abandoned rooms because it’s Saturday night and everyone is here, and Alice 

 she shouldn’t go, because she decided, the day she left home, that everything back in Scotland was 

Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil quotes

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