Minx:

College? Dating? Fun? Not for this girl. I have a one-way ticket to the werewolf academy.

Which is strange since I'm not fully convinced I'm a werewolf. Anyway, I thought the politically correct term was shifter. I haven't sprouted fur, and my pink nails haven't lengthened into claws. No cravings to run into the night and hunt for harmless animals.

I have been feeling off. Fevers. Insatiable hunger. Enhanced senses. There's also the little spontaneous fire issue.

My mom thinks I will find myself here.

I think it's a flipping waste of time but I can't exactly move onto a regular life.

This place will have to do.

I expected something like a convent —although we weren't Catholic —or maybe just a military school for girls. And I thought it would be out in the middle of nowhere, like it one of those gothic novels I was into at thirteen or fourteen.

But the car they sent to pick me up had prep school all over it. My parents were not prep-school wealthy, and since they were at work when the uniformed driver loaded my beat up duffels into the trunk, they weren't home to ask.

When I arrive, I find this is nothing like a convent at all. It's a college under the guise of the name academy and the classes all revolve around being a shifter. I don't know how this will translate to real life for me, but I'm here for it. Maybe I can figure out what exactly I am.

The males outnumber the females by a mile. And a lot of them have their eyes on me–another different experience.

Maybe this werewolf thing isn't so bad after all.