Uninvited by Amanda Marrone

What's on the back of the book:
When rejection comes back to bite you . . .

Jordan hates her life! Her boyfriend Michael dumped her, hooked up with half the other girls in the neighbourhood, and then killed himself. And, if that wasn't bad enough, her life now consists of a succession of boring parties, meaningless flirting and friends she can't relate to. But now, somehow, Michael is back, appearing at her window every night, begging her to let him in.

Jordan can't understand why he wants to get back together; he was the one that dumped her! But, as the weeks drag on, she feels her resistance wearing down. Instead of partying and socialising with her so-called friends, now Jordan runs home to the safety of her room before dark, and waits, alone and terrified, for the sun to go down.

Creatures like Michael need to be invited in before they can cross over the threshold. All Jordan has to do is say the word . . .

A piece from the book:
"Jordan, let me in."
"Go away, Michael. I will never let you in." My voice is steady and calm, without emotion. I've said these words a hundred times today, so they'd become automatic. So I wouldn't change my mind.
Michael sighs, and I think I see him nodding. He knows I'm not ready to let him in. I suspect he knows I think about it, though. I suspect he knows that a part of me wants to.
"You don't know how good you have it, Jo."
I don't like where this is leading. This won't be a "let's talk about the future" night. Michael's missing his old life and he'll keep me up for hours if I encourage him.
"Did you go to school today? Did anyone talk about me?"
I roll my eyes. "This is high school, Michael, you're old news. People have found better things to gossip about. I mean, dying in the summer . . . well, your timing was way off. If having people remember you is important, that is. There's just way too much happening, people move on pretty quickly. Now, if you had died during the school year, that would have made a bigger impact."
"God, Jo! This isn't easy for me, you know."
I nod and wonder if his eyes see better than mine. Can he see I'm putting on an act, that every inch of my skin tingles when he sits outside my window? "I'm sorry, Michael, but I'm tired. I need to sleep."
"But I miss you, Jo. It's not like you think. I can't sleep. I can't sleep at all. I'm awake with nothing to do. Nothing to do but think, and miss you."
"I'll leave some books outside for you tomorrow. Maybe you can accomplish something you never did when you were alive - you can actually read a book. Or, hey, how about this? You can walk into the sunlight and end this all. Have you thought of that? What would happen if you walked into the sun?"
Michael's quiet, and I think he may keep it short tonight - until he taps his foot on my window.

Mediator Series by Meg Cabot

I really liked these book, I thought they was great, but I read them a bit differently lol, so I thought I would explain. The first four I read was the UK versions and the last two I read was the USA versions. So I thought I would just put both versions of the books down on here in reading order just so I don't confuse anybody. :)

USA Version

Shadowland
Ninth Key
Reunion
Darkest Hour
Haunted
Twilight

UK Version

Love You To Death
High Stakes
Mean Spirits
Young Blood
Grave Doubts
Heaven Sent

Twilight (The Mediator Book 6) by Meg Cabot

What's on the back of the book:
A girl. A guy.
A new kind of ghost story.

You want me to make your boyfriend disappear?" Paul asked.
His body was warm against mine, so there was no other explanation for why my heart went suddenly cold as ice, except that his words terrified me to the point that my blood seemed to freeze in my veins.
"We have an agreement," I said, my tongue and lips forming the words with difficulty because they, like my heart, had gone ice-cold with dread.
"I promised I wouldn't kill him," Paul said. "I didn't say anything about keeping him from dying in the first place."

A piece from the book:
This time it's life or death

Suze has gotten used to ghosts. They wake her up in the middle of the night. They haunt her locker at school. She's even spotted a few down at Carmel Beach. Suze is a mediator, after all, and communicating with the dead is all in a day's work for her. The last thing she ever expected was to fall in love with one: Jesse, a nineteenth-century hottie.
But when she and Paul Slater, himself a mediator of undeniable power (and dubious intent), discover that the powers they share aren't limited to helping ghosts resolve their earthly woes, but can also be used to determine whether or not they become ghosts in the first place, Suze can't help but freak. Not because she suddenly knows how to alter the course of history, but because Paul can, too. And Paul would like nothing better than to prevent Jesse's murder, keeping him from becoming a ghost and allowing him to live a natural life at last . . . but in the nineteenth century. Meaning Jesse and Suze would never meet.
Suddenly, Suze is faced with the most important decision of her life: allow the only guy she's ever loved to have the life he's always longed for . . . or keep him anchored forever in half-life at her side. Will Jesse choose to live without her, or die to love her?

Haunted (The Mediator Book 5) by Meg Cabot

What's on the back of the book:
My name is Susannah Simon, and I am a Mediator - a liaison between the living and the dead. Yes, this does get in the way of my attempt at a normal sixteen-year-old life. At least I have Jesse, the ghost of a nineteenth-century hottie, haunting my bedroom.
But there's also this other guy. A live one, who has the same gift of gab with the undead I have. In the same way I'm after Jesse, this guy is after me. And he knows how to send Jesse to the Great Beyond. For good.
So I guess you could say I'm haunted. I just never thought it would be by someone who isn't dead.

A piece from the book:
Paul's blue-eyed gaze bore into me. There wasn't the slightest hint of a smile on his face anymore. "Suze, when are you going to get it?"
That was when I finally noticed how close his face was to mine. Just inches away, really. I started instinctively to pull away, but the fingers that had been holding down Dr. Slaski's papers suddenly lifted and seized my wrist. I looked down at Paul's hand. His tanned skin was very dark against mine.
"Jesse's dead," Paul said. "But that doesn't mean you have to act like you are, too."
"I don't," I protested. "I - "
But I didn't get to finish my little speech, because right in the middle of it, Paul leaned over and kissed me.

Hello, Gorgeous! by MaryJanice Davidson

What's on the back of the book:
Here's the story: one minute I'm out with my sorority sisters; the next, there's a terrible accident (beyond my friend Stacy's outfit), and I'm waking up in some weird clinic with the Eggheads Du Jour telling me I'm now officially a human cyborg, and I'm supposed to work for them from now on. You know, super spy style . . . stop people from doing evil things and stuff. Uh, hello - did I ask for this? I've got a beauty salon to run. If those bad guys need highlights and a pedicure, call me. Otherwise, I'll be at the bar.

Okay. So it is cool to move faster than a Ford Mustang when I need to, even if it's totally hard on my shoes. But I just want to get back to my old, normal life. Except The Boss - that's his name, I swear - wants me to bring in another human cyborg on the run. And here's the thing: He's totally gorgeous. Smart. Funny. And, um, his "enhancements"? Let's just say he's not faster than a speeding bullet, if you know what I mean. So what's a former party girl-turned-spy-cyborg supposed to do? Arrest the hunk? Turn him in? Neutralize him? As if . . .

A piece from the book:
Nine days after she died, Caitlyn James woke up in a private hospital in Minnesota.
This was problematic, because her last memory was of passing out in the backseat of a Miami limo.
It was a private hospital room, in itself a miracle in these days of HMOs and accountants making medical decisions. One such accountant was in the room with her. He was leaning over her bed and moving his lips. He had thinning blond hair, rimless glasses, and was wearing an utterly spotless lab coat. No name tag. No hospital name stitched over his pocket. She dubbed him Egghead #1.
She squinted at #1, and as if someone were turning up the volume in her head, he slowly became audible.
". . . everything's all right. You're in a branch of the O.S.F. in Minneapolis, Minnesota."
"Minnesota?" she rasped. No hangover, that was something. A miraculous something. She was reasonably certain she and her girlfriends had been mixing Kahlua and tequila. Or had it been tequila and Baileys? They'd been mixing something with chocolate milk. . . .
She sure felt like she could spit cotton though. Her mouth was as dry as the desert. She reached for the shiny cup beside her bed, but it crumpled in her hand. Dammit! She'd do anything, lay anything, for a glass of water.
"Minnesota?" she tried again, clearing her throat.
"Yes. There were special circumstances and we had to airlift you here."
I. Am. So. Thirsty. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. What?"
"We had to airlift you here and - and there are some things I need to go over with you."
"What day is it?" Rent was due on Monday, and she'd be damned if Old Lady Shea was going to nail her with another fifty-dollar late fee. Like the woman needed more money to bury in her chive patch. "The day . . . what - what time is it?"
"It's October thirty-first. Halloween," Egghead #1 added brightly, as if looking forward to a brisk round of trick-or-treating after work. "Just after lunchtime, in fact. If you're hungry, I could - "
"Hallo - " She cut herself off, shocked. The party had been on the twentieth. Her twenty-fourth birthday. She and a bunch of her sorority sisters had rented a limo and driven from Minneapolis to Miami. Things got a little blurry after her sixth pina colada. They got even blurrier after the Kahlua-Baileys-chocolate-milk mixture.
Where were her friends? Why was she still here? Had there been an accident?
Oh, God . . . had there?

City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments Trilogy) by Cassandra Clare

What's on the back of the book:
Clary Fray is seeing things: vampires in Brooklyn and werewolves in Manhattan. Irresistably drawn towards a group of sexy demon hunters, Clary encounters the dark side of New York City - and the dangers of forbidden love.

A piece from the book:
Clary stepped forward to touch Jace's arm, say something, anything - what did you say to someone who'd just seen his father's killers? Her hesitation turned out not to matter; Jace shrugged her touch off as if it stung. "We should go," he said, stalking out of the office and into the living room. Clary and Simon hurried after him. "We don't know when Luke might come back."
They left through the back entrance, Jace using his stele to lock up behind them, and made their way out onto the silent street. The moon hung like a locket over the city, casting pearly reflections on the water of the East River. The distant hum of cars going by over the Williamsburg Bridge filled the humid air with a sound like beating wings. Simon said, "Does anyone want to tell me where we're going?"
"To the L train," said Jace calmly.
"You've got to be kidding me," Simon said, blinking. "Demon slayers take the subway?"
"It's faster than driving."
"I thought it'd be something cooler, like a van with DEATH TO DEMONS painted on the outside, or . . . "
Jace didn't even bother to interrupt. Clary shot Jace a sideways look. Sometimes, when Jocelyn was really angry about something or was in one of her upset moods, she would get what Clary called "scary-calm." It was a calm that made Clary think of the deceptive hard sheen of ice just before it cracked under your weight. Jace was scary-calm. His face was expressionless, but something burned at the backs of his tawny eyes.
"Simon," she said. "Enough."
Simon shot her a look as if to say, Whose side are you on? but Clary ignored him. She was still watching Jace as they turned onto Kent Avenue. The lights of the bridge behind them lit his hair to an unlikely halo. She wondered if it was wrong that she was glad in some way that the men who'd taken her mother were the same men who'd killed Jace's father all those years ago. For now, at least, he'd have to help her find Jocelyn, whether he wanted to or not. For now, at least, he couldn't leave her alone.

Captivate by Carrie Jones

What's on the back of the book:
He smiles. It's a wicked smile. Kind but not kind.
Handsome but dangerous. Feral almost.
I can see why Nick nearly killed him. Nick . . .
I ask again, 'Why were you in the road?'
'I was waiting for you.'

Zara and her friends thought they'd solved the pixie problem. And they had - sort of. They're locked away, deep in the woods. But the king's needs grow stronger each day that he's in captivity, while his control over his people weakens. Who will fill the power vacuum? Astley. He claims he's different. He claims that it doesn't have to be violence and nastiness all the time. Zara wants to believe him . . . until Astley also claims that she's fated to be his queen.
There's no way Zara would ever turn pixie. And she's got good friends who'll make sure of that. Besides, she and Nick are so in love they're practically inseparable. But when the very thing Zara most wants to protect is exactly what's at risk, she's forced to make choices she never imagined.

A piece from the book:
He moves just a little bit and my fingers fall off of his wrist. He stands up and just walks away, shoulders straight, but different than before. There's something humble about them almost. I don't know. I don't understand anything.
"Hey! Do you have a name?" I call after him. My voice is weak but it stops him.
He turns around. This time he gives a full smile, revealing perfect teeth, white and even. His whole face transforms into something beautiful, the same way Nick's face changes. "Astley."
I touch my feet to the ground, repeat it "Astley?"
He lifts his shoulders and smiles. "We do not have the opportunity to choose our own names, unfortunately."
"What does it mean? Does it mean something?"
"Star." He turns and disappears into the woods like he was never there at all.
"Wait! Can you tell me about Valkyries?" I yell after him.
There's no answer. I collapse onto the car upholstery and watch my skin gradually turn back pale again, almost like nothing happened. Almost.
"I will never kiss you," I whisper. "I will never kiss anyone except Nick."
Of course, nobody hears.

Need by Carrie Jones

What's on the back of the book:
Pain shoots through my head.
Fireworks. Explosions. All inside my brain.
The white world goes dark and I know what's
about to happen.

Zara White suspects a freaky guy is stalking her. She memorizes phobias and chants them when she's nervous. OK, she hasn't exactly been herself since her stepfather died. But moving to a freezing Maine town to stay with her grandmother is supposed to be the perfect fix - so her mum says.
Except, this plan of sending Zara away to help her stay sane? Yeah, not working. Turns out the stalker is not a figment of Zara's imagination. He's still following her, leaving behind an eerie trail of gold dust. There's something not right - not human - in this sleepy Maine town, and all signs are pointing to Zara.

A piece from the book:
The best thing about crying is that it always knocks me out. I slept really well last night, even with the stupid dogs howling around midnight or so. It's a good thing I'm not cynophobic because I would have freaked all night.
It's quiet now.
The snow muffles the outside world and when my alarm goes off there is no way I want to get up and face it. Grandma Betty's house is just to safe and cozy, especially my bed. Still, I haul my tired butt up to look out the window. Snow covers everything and it's . . . what? The middle of October.
"This is just wrong," I announce and pull the lace curtains all the way open. The strange white light that snow reflects drifts into my room.
It's breakfast and I'm by my lonesome. Grandma Betty left me a huge note in the middle of the table, right by a water mark that looks just like South Carolina. I swallow and touch where Charleston would be. Then I check out the note:

Zara . . . I'm off to the station. A logging
truck jackknifed on Route 9. Minor injuries.
There is still school. You didn't prey hard
enough. Better luck next time. Ha-ha. All
juniors have PE so make sure you take
clothes. Drive careful. It's slippery out.
Here's a map. It's a pretty straight shot. Do
not drive after dark. I'll be home by
nightfall. Knock them dead. The keys are
right here. -------->

She drew an arrow pointing at the keys, next to the note on the table, like I'd miss them.
I scoop them up and dangle them in the air. One catches at the string around my finger. It's getting loose.

Mean Spirits & Young Blood (The Mediator Books 3 & 4) by Meg Cabot

What's on the back of the book:
'A date, with the boy I actually like,
would be nice. But do I get dates?
Oh, no. What do I get instead? Ghosts.'

Susannah Simon has a secret: she can see and talk to the dead, and she is tasked with helping ghosts to cross over into the afterlife even if some of them are not so willing to go. When four vengeful high-school students rise from the grave to wreak havoc on the living, Suze faces her toughest challenge yet. Meanwhile . . . Suze has fallen dead-over-heels for smouldering spook Jesse and, while trying to discover how he passed away, she unearths some deadly secrets . . .

A piece from the book - Mean Spirits:
The person ahead of me stepped up to the cashier, and I moved into her place. Michael moved, too, only he went a little too far, and ended up colliding with me. He said, 'Oh, I'm sorry,' and backed up.
'That's okay,' I said. I began to wish, even if it had meant risking a brain hemorrhage, that I'd stayed with Gina.
'Your hair,' Michael said in a soft voice, 'smells really good.'
Oh, my God. I thought I was going to have an aneurism right there in line. Your hair smells really good? Your hair smells really good? Who did he think he was? James Bond? You don't tell someone their hair smells good. Not in a mall.
Fortunately, the cashier yelled, 'Next,' and I hurried up to pay for my purchase, thinking that by the time I turned around again, Michael would be gone.
Wrong. So wrong.

A piece from the book - Young Blood:
So when I turned out the light that night, it was with a definite sense of satisfaction. I was, I felt, well protected from anything Maria might pull. I had with me beneath the covers a veritable arsenal of weapons, including an axe, a hammer, and something I could not identify that I had taken from Andy's workshop, but which had evil-looking spikes on it. Furthermore, I had Max the dof with me. He would, I knew, awaken me as soon as anything otherworldly showed up, being extremely sensitive to such things.
And, oh, yes, I slept in Doc's room.
I know. I know. Cowardly in the extreme. But why should I have stayed in my own bed and waited for her, like a lame duck, when I could sleep in Doc's bed and maybe throw her off the scent? I mean, it wasn't like I was looking for a fight or anything. Well, except for the whole not-doing-a-thing-she-said-thing. I guess that was sort of indicative of looking for a fight. But not, you know, actively.
Because, I have to tell you, while ordinarily I might have gone out looking for Maria de Silva's grave, so I could just, you know, have it out with her then and there, this was a little different. Because of Jesse. Don't ask me why, but I just didn't think I had it in me to go and rough up his ex, the way I would have if she didn't have this connection to him. I can't say I'm really used to waiting for ghosts to come to me . . .
But this. This was different.

Love You To Death & High Stakes (The Mediator Books 1 & 2) by Meg Cabot

What's on the back of the book:

'I can see ghosts. I can talk to ghosts.

And, if necessary, I can kick some serious ghost butt.'

Susannah Simon has an unearthly gift: she's a Mediator. She must help trapped and tortured souls move on to the next world. But not all spooks want her guidance or want to go quietly - that's when Suze has to get tough. Then she meets Jesse, a drop-dead-gorgeous ghost who just happens to haunt her bedroom. It's hard to boot a guy into the afterlife when he makes your heart beat faster - even though he's been dead for 150 years . . .


A piece from the book - Love You To Death:
To say that the guy looked surprised to be addressed in this manner would have been a massive understatement. He didn't just look surprised. He actually looked over his shoulder, to see if it was really him I was talking to.

But of course, the only thing behind him was the window and through it, that incredible view of Carmel Bay. So then he turned back to look at me, and must have seen that my gaze was fastened directly on his face, since he breathed, 'Nombre de Dios,' in a manner that would have had Gina, who has a thing for Latino guys, swooning.

'It's no use calling on your higher power,' I informed him, as I swung the pink-tasselled chair to my new dressing table around, and straddled it. 'In case you haven't noticed, He isn't paying a whole lot of attention to you. Otherwise, He wouldn't have left you here to fester for - ' I took in his outfit, which looked a lot like something they'd have worn on The Wild, Wild West. 'What is it, a hundred and fifty years? Has it really been that long since you croaked?'

He stared at me with eyes that were as black and liquid as ink. 'What is . . . croaked?' he asked, in a voice that sounded rusty from disuse.

I rolled my eyes. 'Kicked the bucket,' I translated. 'Checked out. Popped off. Bit the dust.' When I saw from his perplexed expression that he still didn't understand, I said, with some exasperation, 'Died.'

A piece from the book - High stakes:
The first time she showed up, it was about an hour after I'd come home from the pool party. Around three in the morning, I guess. And what she did was, she stood by my bed and started screaming.
Really screaming. Really loud. She woke me out of a dead sleep. I'd been lying there dreaming about Bryce Martinsen. In my dream, he and I were cruising along Seventeen Mile Drive in this red convertible. I don't know whose convertibleit was. His, I guess, since I don't even have my driver's licence yet. Bryce's soft wheat-coloured hair was blowing in the wind; and the sun was sinking into the sea, making the sky all red and orange and purple. We were going around these curves, you know, on the cliffs above the Pacific, and I wasn't even carsick, or anything. It was one really terrific dream.
And then this woman starts wailing, practically in my ear.
I ask you: who needs that?
Of course I sat up right away, completely wide awake. Having a dead woman show up in your bedroom screaming her head off can do that to you. Wake you up right away, I mean.
I sat there blinking because my room was really dark - well, it was night-time. You know, night-time, when normal people are asleep.
But not us mediators. Oh, no.
She was standing in this skinny patch of moonlight coming in from the bay windows on the far side of my room. She had on a grey hooded sweatshirt, hood down, a T-shirt, capri pants and Keds. Her hair was short, sort of mousy brown. It was hard to tell if she was young or old, what with all the screaming and everything, but I kind of figured her for my mom's age.
Which was why I didn't get out of bed and punch her right then and there.
I probably should have. I mean, it wasn't like I could exactly yell back at her, not without waking the whole house. I was the only one in the house who could hear her.
Well, the only one who was alive, anyway.
After a while, I guess she noticed I was awake because she stopped screaming and reached up to wipe her eyes. She was crying pretty hard.
'I'm sorry,' she said.
I said, 'Yeah, well, you got my attention. Now what do you want?'
'I need you,' she said. She was sniffling. 'I need you to tell someone something.'
I said, 'OK. What?'
'Tell him . . .' She wiped her face with her hands. 'Tell him it wasn't it fault. He didn't kill me.'
This was sort of a new one. I raised my eyebrows. 'Tell him he didn't kill you?' I asked, just to be sure I'd heard her right.
She nodded. She was kind of pretty, I guess, in a waifish sort of way. Although it probably wouldn't have hurt if she'd eaten a muffin or two back when she'd been alive.
'You'll tell him?' she asked me, eagerly. 'Promise?'
'Sure,' I said. 'I'll tell him. Only who am I telling?'
She looked at me funny. 'Red, of course.'
Red? Was she kidding?
But it was too late. She was gone.
Just like that.

Shadows: A Dark Touch Novel by Amy Meredith

What's on the back:
Fifteen-year-old Eve Evergold is cute, sassy and enjoying a busy social life. What she doesn't know yet is that someone close to her is an evil demon that only she has the supernatural power to defeat.

She needs to work out who it is - and fast. Because although there's something very attractive about the dark side . . . dating a demon?
Pure hell.

A piece from the book:
Eve and Jess didn't stop running until they'd turned onto Marigold Lane, where the church was. Eve could see the spire jutting up in front of the full moon. Gasping for breath, they slowed to a walk - a fast walk. Only one block to go.
Here the only light came from scattered windows in the houses - houses that felt like they were miles back from the street.
That's why the shadows feel thicker, Eve told herself. That's why it's darker now. That's the only reason. Except that didn't explain why the shadows looked like they were moving; twining around her ankles.
She glanced at Jess. Was Jess seeing what she was seeing? Eve didn't want to ask.
But the shadows were sticky. As if they were made of thick black treacle or something. Walking through them got harder with every step. And the shadows - they were murmuring.
No, Eve decided. The murmuring - all hisses and low moans - was in her mind.
But the murmuring continued. It deepened, grew louder . . .
And then Jess screamed.

FALLEN by Lauren Kate

Spirit Bound: A Vampire Academy Novel by Richelle Mead

What's on the back of the book:
Rose Hathaway has been outrunning death ever since she swore to be the protector of her best friend, Lissa, no matter what.

She's finally made it back to the haven of St Vladimir's but with Dimitri, the boy she once loved, stalking her, Rose can only run so far.

She failed to kill him when she had the chance, and now her worst fears are about to come true. Dimitri has tasted her blood, and she knows in her heart that he is hunting her. And if Rose won't join him, he won't rest until he has silenced her . . . forever.

A piece from the book:
My dearest Rose,
One of the few downsides to being awakened is that we no longer require sleep; therefore we also no longer dream. It's a shame, because if I could dream, I know I'd dream about you. I'd dream about the way you smell and how your dark hair feels like silk between my fingers. I'd dream about the smoothness of your skin and the fierceness of you lips when we kiss.
Without dreams, I have to be content with my own imagination - which is almost as good. I can picture all of those things perfectly, as well as how it'll be when I take your life from this world. It's something I regret having to do, but you've made my choice inevitable. Your refusal to join me in eternal life and love leaves no other course of action, and I can't allow someone as dangerous as you to live. Besides, even if I forced your awakening, you now have so many enemies among the Strigoi that one of them would kill you. If you must die, it'll be by my hand. No one else's.
Nonetheless, I wish you well today as you take your trials - not that you need any luck. If they're actually making you take them, it's a waste of everyone's time. You're the best in that group, and by this evening you'll wear your promise mark. Of course, that means you'll be all that much more of a challenge when we meet again - which I'll definitely enjoy.
And we will be meeting again. With graduation, you'll be turned out of the Academy, and once you're outside the wards, I'll find you. There is no place in this world you can hide from me. I'm watching.
Love,
Dimitri