Cover Reveal: The Destruction of Rose

The Destruction of Rose: A High School Bully Romance

Albany Nightingale Duet

Book 1

Release Date – 11th January 2020

Hey guys, I’m so excited for you to see the cover for my next release! It was so much fun exploring this genre and I really hope you like this bully romance as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Please let me know what you think to in the comments below and be sure to read the prologue further down and one click your copy,

Happy reading

Rach xo


If I’d known then what I know now, I’d never have tried to reclaim my crown.

After fleeing London and the scandal that tore my family apart, I’m left broken, confused, and mourning a life I never realized was so fragile. I’m used to being on top. I’m used to being admired, and now I’m desperate for a way back in.

I think I’ve found it when I see Aston Cole—my first crush, my first kiss—at my new school. But Ash isn’t who he used to be. He’s the king. And me… well, I’m not going down without a fight—even with the lies and secrets filling the school halls around us.


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~ What Are Early Reviewers saying? ~

The Destruction of Rose was absolutely one of the best starts to a new series I have read in such a long time! It captures what teenagers are dealing with in this day and age to another level. Do you remember high school? Bullying, popularity contests, lying to reach the top… Well Rose’s experience are on a whole other level. Do your self a favor and pick up Book 1, you will not be disappointed!
– Goodreads review


I had my first kiss at age thirteen. It was during the one and only summer I spent with my grandparents in Manhattan, on the Upper East Side… a summer I remember anyway. When I was four, my parents left New York to fly across the pond and set up home in London. My memories before London are hazy, flickers of a story I can’t remember living.
On the summer of my thirteenth year, my parents went on a luxury cruise and I was put on a plane and sent to the grandparents I barely knew. Sure, they sent birthday cards and a ridiculous amount of money for my birthday and Christmas each year, but I didn’t know them. I can recall maybe two phone conversations with them over my entire childhood.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I arrived, but it certainly wasn’t being put in my own suite at one of the hotels my grandparents owned and more or less being left to fend for myself. With room service on tap and my own personal slave, I wasn’t going to starve, and the first few days of ordering her around and having her organize trips and drivers and whatever else my immature thirteen-year-old brain could think up was fun. But then it wasn’t, and I was left with over three weeks of nothing but mindless boredom.
It was on the third day into my boredom, when I was contemplating attempting to book myself a flight home to my friends, that I met him—Ashton Cole. My first real crush and the boy I’d have my first kiss with. You know, the real kind, with tongue and these feelings that rush through your body and make you want to do irresponsible, crazy things. I bumped into him, while trying to read a street sign and got knocked on my arse. He took pity on the poor British tourist and offered to show me around and from then on, we were inseparable.
Three weeks were spent with Ash. We hung at his apartment in Brooklyn and he came to my hotel room where we’d order huge amounts of food and stuff ourselves silly. I spent days beside him in Central Park watching clouds pass by while talking about all kinds of things. We played video games and visited New York’s tourist spots, and then on my last week, he rolled over and leant on his elbow above me as I lay on the grass. I remember my heart kicking up speed as his cinnamon-dusted eyes gazed down at me. He didn’t say a word, but I knew what he wanted. It was written right there on his face for me to see. The kiss was sweet and perfect and something I’ve never really forgotten. Of course, the kisses got better over time, less messy and unskilled. But the flutter in my chest, the catch of our breaths, nothing ever really compared after Ash.
Aston Cole ruined me for all the other boys to come, and in my head, I pictured him ruined too. But I should have known better than to think there was a boy in New York comparing me to others over the years. I should have told my stupid heart to shut up as his emails became less and less frequent, until there was none. But as I grew older, I convinced myself he didn’t matter. I became wrapped up in boys and social status. I became a person Ash wouldn’t recognize.
I became the queen of St. Paul’s Grammar.
Becoming the queen took hard work and a lot of scheming. Staying the queen was even harder. My pursuit of a kiss was more for status than the flutter of my heart, and I’d convinced myself it was all that mattered. I was on top. I had a privileged, blessed life unfolding before me. I thought I was invincible. I thought my reign was set in stone. I never realized how fragile it all was until I fell from grace.
When my world tore apart, I recalled my summer with my grandparents. Longing for its simplicity. But it wasn’t until I set eyes on Ash again, I realized he’d never left my mind at all. I’d buried him, but not erased him. And for just a second as I walked on feet that seemed to float, with a heart that fluttered again, I thought life could turn around as fast as it had burned.
But it turned out Ashton Cole had changed too. Only he still wore his crown, while mine… it’s twisted and bent. Never to be worn again…

#oneclick your copy now!


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