Big Bad Academy

by Sophie Stern

  Big Bad Academy

  Sophie Stern

  Published by Sophie Stern, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BIG BAD ACADEMY

  First edition. January 9, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Sophie Stern.

  Written by Sophie Stern.

  Also by Sophie Stern

  Alien Chaos

  Destroyed

  Guarded

  Saved

  Alien Chaos: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Bundle

  Anchored

  Starboard

  Battleship

  All Aboard

  Abandon Ship

  Below Deck

  Crossing the Line

  Anchored: Books 1-3

  Anchored: Books 4-6

  Club Kitten Dancers

  Move

  Dragon Isle

  My Lord and Dragon

  The Dragon Fighter

  A Dragon's Bite

  Lost to the Dragon

  Beware of Dragons

  Cowboy Dragon

  Dark Heart of the Dragon

  Once Upon a Dragon

  Catching the Dragon

  Dragon Isle (Collection: Books 1-3)

  Dragon Isle (Collection: Books 4-6)

  Dragon Isle (Collection: Books 7-9)

  Good Boys and Millionaires

  Good Boys and Millionaires 1

  Good Boys and Millionaires 2

  Honeypot Babies

  The Polar Bear's Baby

  The Jaguar's Baby

  The Tiger's Baby

  Honeypot Darlings

  The Bear's Virgin Darling

  The Bear's Virgin Mate

  The Bear's Virgin Bride

  Office Gentlemen

  Ben From Accounting

  Polar Bears of the Air Force

  Staff Sergeant Polar Bear

  Master Sergeant Polar Bear

  Airman Polar Bear

  Senior Airman Polar Bear

  Red

  Red: Into the Dark

  Red: Through the Dark

  Red: Beyond the Dark

  Shifters at Law

  Wolf Case

  Bearly Legal

  Tiger Clause

  Sergeant Bear

  Dragon Law

  The Fablestone Clan

  Dragon's Oath

  Dragon's Breath

  Dragon's Darling

  Dragon's Whisper

  Dragon's Magic

  The Hidden Planet

  Vanquished

  Outlaw

  Conquered

  The Wolfe City Pack

  The Wolf's Darling

  The Wolf's Mate

  The Wolf's Bride

  Standalone

  Saucy Devil

  Billionaire on Top

  Jurassic Submissive

  The Editor

  Alien Beast

  Snow White and the Wolves

  Kissing the Billionaire

  Wild

  Alien Dragon

  The Royal Her

  Be My Tiger

  Alien Monster

  The Paralegal

  Roses in the Dark

  Honeypot Babies Omnibus Edition

  Honeypot Darlings: Omnibus Edition

  Red: The Complete Trilogy

  First Shift

  The Swan's Mate

  Eternity: A Vampire Romance

  The Feisty Librarian

  Polar Bears of the Air Force

  Wild Goose Chase

  Star Princess

  The Virgin and the Lumberjacks

  Resting Bear Face

  Seized by the Dragon

  Fablestone Clan: A Paranormal Dragon-Shifter Romance Collection

  Star Kissed

  Big Bad Academy

  Big Bad Academy

  Sophie Stern

  In a world where vampires rule the night,

  In a place where werewolves roam free,

  In a universe where anything could happen,

  You have to be ready.

  I’m a writer. I’m not a fighter, or a hunter, or the kind of girl who carries a sword. I’ve never shot a gun and I’ve never even gotten in a real fight before. I dream up love stories; I don’t cause trouble.

  At least, I didn’t think I did.

  But when Flynn Richardson marches into my book signing and hauls me off into the night, I realize that my books have done more harm than good, and I’m forced into a school where the monsters I write about are real.

  They actually exist.

  And not a single one of them likes me.

  Welcome to Big Bad Academy.

  It’s going to be a bad year.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Author

  Books

  Hybrid Academy

  Chapter One

  Heather

  “Five minutes, folks!” Jenna walks around the ballroom, smiling and giving last minute directions to authors. She points out crooked tablecloths, reminds us of how long we have to speak with readers, and lets us know that in just a few minutes, the doors to the space are going to open. We’re going to be swarmed with dozens of happy, excited, and curious readers who are here for one purpose: to buy books.

  It’s my very first book signing as an author and I don’t know whether I’m feeling more excited or horrified. Maybe I’m feeling a little bit of both. My stomach churns, but I know it’s not hunger because I definitely ate this morning. Definitely. I made sure to.

  I found this list online that had ten things every writer needs to know before their first signing. One of the first things on the list was to have a good breakfast and to bring snacks. My book signing is in the evening, but I definitely ate right on time all day long and even though it’s nearly seven now, I packed some snacks to tide me over in case I get hungry. Besides, the author at the table next to me is giving away donuts. If I need to, I can always sneak one.

  “Are you ready?” The writer beside me, Sunflower Wilson, leans over and smiles.

  I nod, jerking my head up and down. Somehow, I feel like a robot. Since when did normal interactions and gestures become so damn hard?

  She doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Don’t worry. It gets better. The first ten minutes are the hardest, anyway.”

  I hope she’s right.

  The doors to the ballroom open and anxious readers hurry in. I stand up straight and paste a smile on my face. I try not to let everyone know just how nervous I am. I mean, it’s my first book signing. It’s supposed to be fun. Not a nightmare.

  So why do I suddenly feel nervous?

  My anxiety lasts only a few minutes. Readers start hurrying toward the tables of the authors they really love and want to have books signed by, but then someone arrives in front of my table. It’s a tall, slender redhead and she grins.

  “Hi!” I say. “Do you like paranormal romance?”

  She laughs and shoves a stack of my books at me.


  “You could say that,” she says. “I’ve read the entire Polar Bear Shifters and Their Beloved Mates series three times, and Werewolves Who Love Humans was my favorite!”

  “Wow,” I blush, taking the books from her. “That’s so great to hear. I mean, thank you! Who should I make these out to?” I ask.

  “Clarissa,” she tells me. She spells it out and I try really hard not to mess up the spelling. How embarrassing would it be to make a mistake like that at my first signing? Pushing the thought away, I finish writing a little greeting, I sign my name, and I hand the books back.

  “Well, it’s so great to hear you enjoyed the books!” I tell her.

  “My friend Missy is here, too,” Clarissa says. “So keep an eye out for her. She’s an even bigger fan than me!” She laughs and takes her books, grabs a couple of mints from my table, and takes off. As soon as she’s gone, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I did it.

  I survived my first reader.

  A feeling of satisfaction settles in my belly. That wasn’t so bad, after all. Was it? I might be a newer writer, but I have some real fans who make sitting down and working on my stories every day totally worth it.

  A few minutes later, another woman comes by with her boyfriend in tow. He doesn’t look bored the way I assume boyfriends at these events would look. Instead, he’s carrying her stack of books and smiles as he hands over a few copies of books I’ve written.

  “Can you sign these for us?” He asks. “We loved Anna and Thad in The Werewolf’s Human Baby.”

  “They were perfect,” the girl nods. “Truly wonderful. The way Anna and Thad overcame all of their differences and reunited at the end,” she swoons and grabs her heart. “It was perfect.”

  I grin.

  “Thank you! And yes,” I take the books from them. “You know, figuring out how they were going to overcome her terrible family history wasn’t easy.”

  “What was the hardest part about writing this book?” The girl asks me.

  “Probably trying to find a good way for them to move past her childhood. I mean, she was raised in a society that totally hated werewolves, right?”

  “And she was so shocked to discover that he was one!” The man holding my books shakes his head. “I got so into those books that I stayed up until 4 in the morning reading them. I was almost late to work. Wasn’t I, Winnie?”

  “It’s true,” Winnie nods. “Not me, though,” she laughs. “I started reading the second they arrived at the house and was finished before midnight.”

  “That’s fantastic,” I grin. A feeling of satisfaction washes over me as we chat about my stories for a few more minutes. Being a writer can be a really lonely journey, but having people who read and enjoy my books makes me feel a little less alone. Besides, it also feels really, really good.

  I finish signing the books, and then Winnifred and her boyfriend buy another two from me. I sign them and then the happy couple takes off to meet other authors. For a minute, I’m able to just chill and relax, so I take a chance to sip my water and look out over the room.

  It’s crowded: more crowded than I thought it would be. The event I’m signing at is a three-day ordeal with writers from all over the country. Everyone flew in to get together for drinks, networking, and general information-sharing. A few of the more experienced writers even put on workshops, so I got to find out more about how to hire a graphic designer for my book covers and even how to start marketing on deeper levels.

  Overall, it’s been a wonderful few days, but for me, this is the highlight.

  Spending Saturday night hanging out with other writers, connecting with readers, and signing books before sending them out into the world is a thrilling experience. Part of me never wants this to end.

  As I’m looking out into the crowd, I don’t notice the man approaching my table at first. He clears his throat and I turn to look, but I’m caught off guard and I jump back a little. The corner of his lips twitch and he smirks at me.

  “First time meeting new people?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

  Instantly, I bristle. Okay, so this guy is hot. He’s like, rip-off-my-panties and spank-me-until-I-come hot. Why is he here? The models are on the other side of the room, and as far as I know, he’s not one of them. At least, if he is a model, he’s someone I’ve never seen, but oh, I’d love to put him on a book cover. He’s tall, dark, and delicious.

  “No,” I finally seem to find words. “It’s not my first time meeting people.”

  “Ah, well, you could have fooled me.”

  I cock my head and stare at him. Who is this guy? Unlike most of the people who wander by, he’s looking at me: not my books. Most people who read care about what the book looks like: not the author. He doesn’t even seem to notice my books at all. Instead, his gaze is just centered totally on me, and it’s making me really, really uncomfortable.

  “So,” I say, searching for an ice breaker that isn’t Do you have a girlfriend already or may I apply for the position?

  “So.”

  “What kind of books do you like to read?”

  “Oh, I like a little bit of everything,” he says. He reaches out and traces one of my covers. He doesn’t look at the book, though. Instead, his eyes stay on mine, but I’m drawn to his hand. He’s careful with my books. He touches them gently, almost in a caressing way.

  What would it feel like to have him caressing me with those hands?

  “That’s great,” I swallow. Suddenly, my mouth feels really dry. “Well, there are quite a few choices available, if you like paranormal stories,” I point out.

  “Where do you get your ideas?” He asks, interrupting me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your ideas,” he says. “Where do they come from?”

  It’s a question I get a lot, but I can’t quite put it into words without sounding like a total idiot. I mean, I’m definitely not going to tell this guy that I have dreams about werewolves and vampires and secret worlds that exist alongside our own. That would be crazy.

  Right?

  I’m not going to tell him that these dreams started when I was thirteen or that I’ve been spending the better part of my adult life trying to get the stories out of my head so I can live a normal life.

  For me, writing isn’t just about entertaining the reader.

  It’s about survival.

  There are way too many stories spinning around in my brain for me to ever be able to stop writing. For me, it’s therapeutic to get all of the words out that I need to.

  “Oh, well, a writer can get ideas from anywhere. Some writers get ideas when they’re at the supermarket and some find that the ideas seem to flow when they’re having fun or trying new things. Some people-”

  He slams both of his palms down on my table and looks right at me.

  “I didn’t ask you where other people got their ideas.” He practically snarls at me as he says this, and suddenly, I get the distinct impression that this guy isn’t a fan after all. “I asked where you get yours.”

  I open my mouth and close it again. There’s no way he could know about the dreams. No way, no how. There’s no chance that a guy like this knows anything about a girl like me, but it’s on the tip of my tongue just to tell him.

  I shouldn’t.

  That would be a horrible idea that wouldn’t end well for any of us, but there’s a very strange part of me that just wants him to know.

  “Hey, is everything okay over here?” Sunflower is leaning over, looking at me and my strange visitor. “Are you two all right?” She looks at me and raises an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, we’re fine.”

  “You sure? Because I can call Jenna over here if this guy is bothering you.”

  Jenna is the organizer of the event and she’s thought of everything. She’s got security and she’s got snacks and water bottles and she’s got absolutely everything else anyone could possibly want or need. She’s got it all.

  Do I need her security guys?

&
nbsp; The man in front of me waits. He doesn’t look at Sunflower Wilson. He just keeps staring at me like I’m the only person in this room he cares about. My panties are soaked, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. A guy like this could be very, very dangerous.

  “I’m okay,” I say.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Okay, because I can-”

  “She said she’s fine,” the man snaps. He finally looks over at Sunflower, and she juts her chin out.

  “Fine, then,” she tells him. “But I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Pity,” he says. “Perhaps you should be.”

  Then the man turns and walks away. He slips into the crowd, and both Sunflower and I stare at him until he disappears from sight.

  “What the hell was that about?” She asks. Her pink hair bounces as she shakes her head. I can’t tell if she’s scared or disgusted by that man’s appearance, but one thing is for sure: he’s not a reader.

  Why did he come here to ask me about my ideas?

  More importantly, why do I have the feeling that this won’t be the last time I see him?

  BY THE TIME THE BOOK signing ends and I’ve finished packing up my leftover books and swag, it’s nearly midnight. I’m exhausted, practically dead on my feet, and I wave goodbye to the other writers as I head back to my hotel room. My plan is to get to my room, crash with my clothes on, and get up early to shower and drive back home. I live three hours from the hotel we’re holding the event at, which means I can easily be home by noon tomorrow if I leave early enough.

  Pulling my roller-suitcase that’s filled to the brim with signing supplies, I head through the hotel lobby and to the elevators. The event went better than I thought it would. A feeling of relief washes over me as I press the up button and wait patiently. The lobby is almost completely silent. There’s not even someone at the front desk. I close my eyes for a second and just take a deep breath.

  This is it.

  It’s over.

  Everything went perfectly.

  When I decided to become a paranormal romance writer, I wasn’t really sure what I was getting myself into. After all, most writers are people who love creating stories. The writers I met this weekend are all people who have known since they were kids that writing was in their blood, but me?