It was January, the second week of spring semester. I was the girl who’d fallen asleep while people discussed the tragic deaths of the Bronte siblings, the girl who was currently checking page 178 for drool. Sitting in back meant every face in my Victorian Literature class was turned toward me. My book lay open, a pillow I’d faceplanted into. Laughter broke over me as I raised my head. Manufactured in the United States of America No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.Ĭover photography by Gabriel Georgescu/Shutterstock Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.Īll rights reserved. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Total: 26 accepted, 0 declined, 0 skipped
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