The Neverland Novels

Second star to the left and continue until morning.

I got that line tattooed on my wrist the day I turned twenty-one. So much symbolism in such a simple sentence. At the time, it was a nod to the future and the infinite possibilities to come, while reminding me to remember the past and to look for magic in the world.

​Growing up, nothing was ever what it seemed. The shift of leaves on a tree was a faery skipping by. Shooting stars were a chance to make wishes. Shadows were souls stuck between this world and the next, mirroring a life they once had.

My imagination was limitless, the world a wonderful adventure waiting to unfold.

It’s easy to lose that sense of wonder with the weight of life on your shoulders and I wanted a reminder to get me through the hard days.

Most importantly, it was an ode to the boy who earned the title of my first crush, even if he was animated. Peter Pan wasn’t a save the damsel kind of prince. He was daring, and selfless, and took care of the ones he loved. He was a friend to all but never afraid to fight the Pirates when their moral compass broke. Wendy was an idiot for leaving him. She rushed home to a heartless world full of men willing to lie through their teeth to get down her pants.

But that’s the beauty of a book, the characters are perfectly flawed. Damaged just enough that we still love them. Whereas reality is nothing but empty promises and baggage the size of mountains.

The day I got my tattoo I would have given anything to be whisked away into a fairytale. My world was crumbling and all I wanted was to go back to when life was simpler. I didn’t realize I had sealed my fate in ink.

Branded myself as one of the Lost.

Neverland was everything the stories made it out to be. Beautiful. Full of magic. Filled with handsome men and debonair pirates. But the author of my favorite tale left out one crucial detail.

In order to get there, you have to die.

NOTE: The Island of the Lost is an adult reimagining of Peter and Wendy. Characters have been aged up for this darker, grittier version. If you like your fairytale retellings with hot, ruthless, morally gray love interests, you’ll enjoy this series. The Island of the Lost is the final book in the main storyline for the Neverland Novels. Please read this series in order, starting with The Lost Darling.

★★★★★ "This book provides a beautiful retelling of the Neverland story and I was here for the spice 🥵🥵🥵. It does end in a Cliffhanger, which I was not prepared for but I need book two like yesterday" --Reviewer

★★★★★ "I love this book so much!!!! It is one of my favorite that I have read this year!! The chemistry and development of these characters are spot on! There’s some spice and a great plot!!." --Reviewer

★★★★★ "THIS BOOK ::chefs kiss:: It was absolutely amazing. I have read quite a few Peter Pan retellings at this point and this is in the top 3." -- Reviewer

• Twisted Fairy Tale 
• Peter Pan Retelling 
• Enemies to Lovers 
• Abduction 
• Multiple Love Interests 
• Morally Gray Males 
• She’s Mine 
• fae 
• betrayal 
• scorching hot lost boys 
• spice  and more!

Thank you for reading the Lost Darling. Please be warned some content may be triggering for some readers: antihero, foul language, sexual content, enemies to lovers, murder (not graphic), drinking, a backstabbing sister, cheating exboyfriend, misunderstandings

Three drinks down and I am convinced this bartender has magic hands. She’s found a way to mix rum and a dozen other concocktables together until it tastes like a liquid dessert. Her sweet, pineapple slice of heaven is exactly what I need to forget the utter shit-storm my life has become in the last six months.

I pull the mini umbrella out of its ice bath and place the Maraschino cherry between my teeth and pop the stem. I close my eyes and suck on the little round fruit until all the flavor has faded away, then bite down. The cherry alone is a treat but paired with whatever else is in my cocktail, chef’s kiss. 

A few more rounds, mixed with the spritzers I drank earlier, and I might be able to forget that I walked in on my sister six months ago, legs spread, my boyfriend’s hands cupped around her perky double-d’s, while she bounced on his cock. Unlikely, but with every ounce of alcohol I swallow I get that much closer to temporary peace.

“You okay there, Wens?”

The simple answer? No, but life hasn’t been simple for a long time. I open my eyes and smile at Kierra, my sister’s maid of honor, the liquor lifting my lips even though I’m beyond pissed. 

My sister broke her pinky promise. That was supposed to be my job. I should be the number two in command. 

I was supposed to help plan this weekend’s festivities, picking which booze cruises we went on during the day and which bars we bounced to after dark. I would have made sure she had a spotlight dance at the strip club we went to last night and kept boobs-McGee from drinking too much and causing a scene because that’s the maid of honor’s job.

Instead, I’m just the sister of the bride. Not even a bridesmaid in the wedding or a ridiculed adult flower girl. I’m a guest with a pity invite to the bachelorette party.

I’m the reject. 

The girl the bride was forced to bring along that pretty much everyone ignores.

Tyle—said sister…twin sister… who is getting married in two weeks to my ex-boyfriend—and I have been planning our weddings since we were innocent, star-eyed ten-year-olds who found Leonardo DiCaprio back in his Titanic days on cable TV. That man was fine as sand during the late nineties and has only gotten better with age. He made me realize I had a thing for the preppy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, heart-throbs. 

And my sister had a thing for what was mine.

“I. Am. Peachy.” I take another sip through the paper straw in my cup (hate those) and frown when I pull more air than yummy goodness. I feel like my glass is broken, possibly with a hole in the bottom. 

So was the one before that.

And the one before that one too.

I hold the empty drink up, signaling the wizard behind the bar that I’m ready for another round of her signature drink, a kiss me on the lips. 

I have no shame in ordering it, but I wonder how many guests our bartender has honored with its name. I bet her drink makes for some great tips and even better stories. 

If I were working behind the bar, I’d be kissing every hottie that ordered one. Male. Female. Unicorn. It doesn’t matter anymore. A broken heart has made me open to all sorts of things I never thought I’d do. If it’s not illegal and will make me forget the searing pain in the center of my chest, I’ll try it. 

Right now, our bartender has her eyes set on a tall drink of broody goodness, probably deciding if he’s worth a little lip-locking. I vote yes, but there’s no telling what this chick is into. For all I know, she may have a vag badge. Not hating that prospect, she’s a gorgeous girl. 

I fight a smile. Tyle would have a fit if I kissed a girl this weekend. She’s still living in the past when it comes to relationships. 

As much as she deserves to have her perfect weekend ruined (in her eyes kissing the wizard would cause waves) I’m trying to be good. 

That’s what family does. They respect each other. Even if my sister doesn’t know what it means to leave well enough alone, I know my place. 

Kierra takes the scalloped glass from me and sets it on the bar top, a concerned frown on her face. She stares at me for an uncomfortably long amount of time. I don’t know what she expects to come out of my mouth.

Venom about the wedding?

Curses to her name for stealing my job?

If that’s the case, she’s going to be sorely disappointed because the one thing I’m not gonna do is give Tyle a story by making waves. That’s the ocean’s job. Mine is to cruise through this weekend in a drunken haze and make it to Monday morning.

I hiccup and cover my mouth with my hand, laughing in between each breath of air. 

“You should go back to the boat and get some rest.” Kierra took on the role of mom for the group this weekend. I should be grateful. Without her intervention last night, I would have ended up with so much more than another tattoo on my forearm. Nipple rings were this close to happening. I’m grateful for her presence, but I’m still mad at her. 

She helped my sister not pick oleanders for the table decorations.

She didn’t suggest the sweetheart, A-line gown that hugged Tyle’s curves in all the right ways. 

And she didn’t talk my sister out of sleeping with my boyfriend. 

Or marrying him. 

Although, if I’m being fair, by the time Kenny proposed to Tyle, I couldn’t claim him as mine anymore. Whatever. It’s all semantics. Either way, my sister is marrying my ex six months after our breakup and it’s fucked.

“I’m fine.” I hiccup. “I just need another one of these.” Hiccup. I reach for my glass, but Kierra slides it out of reach. I frown at her, ready to give her a  piece of my mind, when the wizard appears again.

“Here you go, honey.” Our bartender sets another delicious piece of heaven in front of me. 

I snatch my drink before Kierra can steal it away. I don’t know how the bar babe saw me, but I don’t care. I’m grateful. Memories I’d rather not relive are burning through this haze of alcohol and I need to extinguish them. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” The chick steps back and tilts her head, signaling down the bar. “That gentleman bought it for you.”

“Oh!” I say as Kierra murmurs my name—Wednesday—in a warning tone. 

The bartender steps away, turning her attention back to paying customers. A temporary moment of disappointment that she wasn’t the one who noticed me is replaced by a flicker of excitement. This whole weekend, all eyes have been on Tyle. 

This is the first drink someone outside the wedding party has bought me. I’m not gonna waste it or an opportunity to talk to a hot guy.

Tall, dark, and broody stares at the flat screen above the bar. There’s a football game playing, probably a re-run, but he seems interested in it. Tattooed fingers curl around a tumbler of amber liquor, bringing the glass to his lips as he studies the screen.

I take a sip of my yellow-orange goodness and smile against the straw. It’s heaven in my mouth. Just like the other three. Or was it four? I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. My goal is to stay numb this weekend, and this man is helping me reach the finish line. The fact that he’s eye candy is an added bonus.

Kierra grabs my arm as I slide out of the stool. The sheer white cover-up I have over my bright red bikini slides down my shoulder, exposing sun-kissed freckles. Tyle took after our mom. Her natural brown hair, before she bleached it, was four shades lighter than mine, her lips fuller, her waist smaller. I look like our dad. Darker. Thicker and just… more. 

“What are you doing?”

I shrug and back-step away from Kierra. She doesn’t try to stop me, probably because she knows the effort is futile. Considering all the things I’ve almost done this weekend, me talking to a guy is the least of her worries, but it doesn’t keep her from scowling as I creep away.

“It’s only polite for me to thank the sexy stranger.” I flash Kierra a grin we both know too well. It was Tyle’s go-to back in the day when she was up to no good. I don’t know what my plans are for this dude. Probably nothing more than a little shameless flirting, but knowing that Kiera will tell Tyle and that Tyle will be jealous makes me happy.

A few tiny waves won’t hurt anyone. 

“Wens…” Kierra warns again.

“Relax, Mom. I’m just gonna say thank you. Maybe chat him up and get some more free booze. What’s the worst that can happen?”

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