Read Online Books/Novels:

Fashion Jungle

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Rachel Van Dyken

Book Information:

Four women… Four very different paths. One incredibly cutthroat world.
Welcome to the Jungle.

As America’s sweetheart, Brittany is perceived as the “good girl.” The sort to bring her Bible to a photoshoot… only to garner the attention of a most unlikely suitor. Until one mistake irrevocably changes both of their lives forever. Fortunately, both now and then, Brittany has wonderful support systems, including her tribe.

The leader of the tribe and a model who’s fought every battle and obstacle in the industry, Zoe, knows her worth. Until a sex tape scandal rocks her world. She sees no choice but to put her trust in the one man she shouldn’t, to make it all go away and help her succeed. Unfortunately, not only is he mired in New York’s underbelly, he wants repayment… with interest. Namely, her hand in marriage.

Despite her seemingly perfect life, Everlee has problems of her own. Not only has her world-renowned photographer husband been cheating, but it’s actually much worse than that. The things surrounding what he’s done are so dark and dangerous, Everlee’s life may actually be in jeopardy.

And then there’s Danica, cold, dead in the ground Danica. Some secrets stay hidden while others are just waiting to be discovered- hers has the power to alter the industry forever.

In the world of the Fashion Jungle, it’s easily eat or be eaten… but, if you make it out alive, you just might have a story to tell – though it will likely be one of secrets, lies, deceit, and loss.

Strap on your stilettos, it’s about to get wild.

Based on true stories and events.

Books by Author:

Rachel Van Dyken Books

For Greg…

Because of Love…

we’re forever on The 4th Watch.


To every person who reads these pages

may you feel acceptance and love,

may you find your happily ever after

and realize you ARE enough.

Hugs, RVD

It happened too fast.

She wouldn’t listen to reason.

They’d tried everything.

One movement, large enough for her to stumble.

Big enough to set the universe into action.

One movement.

One decision.

A scream.

And then, nothingness.

“Nobody has to know,” a voice said from the left, and they listened because the alternative was unimaginable.

“It was an accident.”

“And the evidence?” A finger pointed to the notebook next to the blood that trailed down her chin. “What do we do about the evidence? What if there’s more?”

“You better hope to God there isn’t… because all of it points to you.”

Nobody has to know.

Nobody has to know.

The blood was cleaned.

Nobody has to know.

The future was set.

Nobody has to know.

And somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed.

Time’s. Up.

Rain slid off the umbrella.

Dane counted the drops.




Why did it always rain at funerals? Maybe because the world was painfully aware that it had lost someone good—someone incredible. Perhaps this was the Earth’s way of mourning while Dane couldn’t.

He was too livid to mourn.

Familiar faces locked onto his. The entire fashion world had come to pay its respects, even politicians and people who feared him as much as they loved her.

And all of them seemed altered.

A chill ran down Dane’s spine as he locked eyes with Frederick. The man was married, and yet he cried as if he’d lost more than a friend, more than his wife’s best friend—almost as if there were something hidden behind the depths of his dark gaze.

Her best friends surrounded Dane, each of them staring at the ground in disbelief as the casket was lowered.

It was a nightmare.

Dane had done nothing but dedicate his life to collecting secrets so that he could protect those he loved.

His eyes locked on Zoe.

She refused to look at him.

Maybe because he looked so much like her.

He was the darkness to Zoe’s light.

He had done everything to protect Danica.

And still.

Still, he’d found her with a crumpled-up note in her hand that said simply: I’m sorry.

The police said suicide.

But Dane wasn’t stupid.

His sister had been murdered.

Because she was a fighter.

Because he couldn’t bear to think he hadn’t seen the signs.

Because he wouldn’t survive if suicide was her truth.

His gut clenched as he squeezed his gloved hands together.

The leather tightened around his knuckles.

Somebody would pay for this.


Somebody standing around that casket knew the truth.

And he was a patient man. He searched the faces once more and imagined the number of secrets, the amount of deception, and how each and every one of them was drowning in it.

The land wept.

He did not.

Because he chose to focus on revenge… on collecting trust, secrets, money, power. He would amass it all, and then he would bring hell down on this city.

On these people who had somehow made Danica feel less than worthy.

On the plastic faces with their plastic bodies.

Dane would destroy them all.

He stared down at the three women again and pressed his lips into a grim line. He would destroy them all.

And he was going to use Danica’s best friends to meet that goal.

A man wrought his revenge not in seconds, minutes, or even days. No, he found his revenge in years, by planning, building, brick by brick.

Thunder boomed.

An omen, perhaps.

Not that it mattered. The devil owned his soul the minute Dane had handed it over in exchange for one thing.


“Let us pray.” The pastor lowered his head.

Everyone but Frederick did the same.

Dane narrowed his eyes.

The last person his sister had been seen with refused to pray.

Dane lowered his head with a cruel smile on his lips. Dane would kill Frederick as a bonus.

Because beneath the sadness etched in his eyes, Dane saw something he knew all too well.


New York Fashion Week Countdown – 17 Days

It was impossible not to notice him. His height alone dominated half the people in the room, and the other half, well, the other half didn’t pack the same amount of muscle, did they?

Zoe sipped her champagne and fought to keep her attention on her friends, Everlee and Brittany. They’d fought tooth and nail for this moment. Twenty years in the modeling industry had a way of leaving a woman jaded, and they’d shed enough tears between the three of them to create a tropical storm.

But it was worth it.

For this moment.

Zoe flashed a smile at Everlee, who thrust her champagne flute into the air. “To the new fall line.”

“Hear, hear!” Brittany’s laugh was easy and carefree. The woman was walking, talking sunlight from her long, golden-brown locks to the freckles dusting her nose. She’d been America’s sweetheart for so long, it would be impossible to think of any other model—retired or not—taking her place. She was still the it girl, while the rest of them clawed to stay on top. It seemed that Brittany didn’t need to lift a fingernail to stay there. Editor at one of the most sought-after magazines in the world, and they still asked her to pose for pictures because they had to do additional reprints every time she graced a cover.

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