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