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Bad, Bad Blue Bloods (Rich Boys Of Burberry Prep #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

C.M. Stunich

Book Information:

Break the rich boys.
It’s tricky, but doable.
Jerks like them don’t deserve to rule Burberry Prep.
No, Tristan, Zayd, and Creed are going to pay, and I plan to make an example of them.
Then there’s Zack, the varsity football d*ck. Oh, and did I mention a prince just transferred to the academy? Whatever will I do with those two?
Revenge is wicked sweet; I can’t wait for a taste.


Defend ourselves against the charity case.
We’re the Idols of the school, the kings of the campus.
Marnye Elizabeth Reed.
That girl is nothing like the ones we’re used to. We just can’t decide if we hate her … or love her.
She might come from nothing, but she sure is determined to stir up something at the academy.
She says she’ll meet our challenge dead-on; we’ll make sure she regrets that.


***BAD, BAD BLUEBLOODS is a 94,000 word reverse harem/dark high school bully romance novel. This is book two of four in the series. Contains foul language and sexual situations; any sex featured is consensual.

Books in Series:

Rich Boys Of Burberry Prep Series by C.M. Stunich

Books by Author:

C.M. Stunich Books

There are flames dancing across the water.

How that happened, I have no idea. I clutch my fingers to my chest, heart pounding. I almost lost my ability to make music with the harp … forever. This thing with the Idol girls is so much more than just a nasty case of bullying. Everything to do with the Infinity Club is so much darker and more involved than I first thought.

Tristan grits his teeth, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The way he looks at Harper du Pont is terrifying. If I were her, I would leave. Now. But she doesn’t. Instead, she flicks that blue gaze of hers to the right, checking to make sure her cronies are in tow before she launches another attack.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing right now,” Tristan says, his voice as smooth as silk, “don’t.” His tone hardens on that last syllable, a perfect match to the rage in his face. They saved me, I think, glancing from Tristan to Zayd’s bloody lip to Creed with his arm around Miranda. Zack is standing on the opposite side of the boat, behind Harper and her new friends.

“If you do this,” Harper says, taking a step forward, her short brown hair billowing in the breeze. It makes me feel good to see it cut like that. Don’t dish it if you can’t take it. I take a step back and bump into Zayd. He puts an arm around me, and all these strange feelings flood over me. My mind changes with each beat of my heart. Please don’t touch me; touch me more; get away from me; kiss me until I see stars. “Then you’re giving up control of the school. You’re Plebs, all of you.”

Abigail Fanning and Valentina Pitt flank Harper as she steps forward, the chair they’d tied me to dividing the space between us. I try to look past them to see Zack, and I notice that he’s bleeding, too, but much worse than Zayd.

“If you think we’ll fold that easy,” Creed begins as bored as always, but when I glance over at him, his blue eyes meet mine, and a strange spark passes between us. He’s shaking, too, but he tries to hide it as he pushes a lock of white-blond hair from his face. “Then you clearly haven’t been paying attention. We’ll destroy you.”

Harper’s mouth is so wicked when it curves up in a smirk, and the reflection of the flames in her eyes mirrors the hate in her heart. Most of the Inner Circle is standing with her, her new girlfriends, and the three boys she’s handpicked to take Tristan’s, Zayd’s, and Creed’s spots as Idols.

“So you’ll break up the greatest collection of Bluebloods in the history of Burberry Prep for some commoner? We’re the future rulers of the world. People live and die based on the decisions our families make. Tristan, I’m your fiancée.” Harper takes another step forward, and then pauses as the ladder on her right creaks and sways.

Windsor York, the screw in the cogs of this machine, appears, his mouth twisted in a wry little smirk.

“Well, bloody hell,” he curses, pulling himself over the edge and then standing up. He brushes his palms down the front of his white second-year uniform. His hazel eyes glitter as he takes in Harper, the chair, me. “Looks like I’m a bit late to the party.”

He walks over to stand in front of Zayd, reaching out a hand for me. The flames catch on his red hair, bathing it in orange light. I reach out to touch him, but Zayd pulls me back. Windsor raises an eyebrow and sighs.

“Yeah, way late, asshole,” Zayd snaps, but I elbow him and step away from his embrace, wrapping my arms around myself and keeping my own space. I need to stand on my own; I can’t trust anyone. Not anymore. “If we hadn’t gotten here when we did …” His voice trails off, but he has to know that Windsor’s on my side. He has been since moment one.

Turning, the prince gives Harper’s group a skeptical sort of look.

“I disabled the motor on your friends’ boat,” he says, his English accent crisp and charming. “I don’t imagine they’ll be showing up tonight.” Harper’s face, already colored red-orange by the fire, looks like a ripe tomato now. She’s furious. “And I’m not late.” He rolls his eyes and flashes me a wink and a smile. I almost smile back. Almost. I’m too confused right now. “I saw Zack on his way up here, with these idiots trailing behind.” He gestures with his thumb in the direction of the Idol boys, and Tristan growls at him. Almost quite literally. “My time was better spent elsewhere. Oh.” Windsor snaps his fingers and then reaches down to pull up the edge of his shirt.