His Final Girl: B Mine, #1

PRAISE FOR BROOKLYN ANN’S HEARTS OF METAL SERIES

Hearts of Metal is a rock series that is not to be missed. ~Kara’s Books

Kissing Viciöus

KISSING VICIÖUS is a sensual, rockin’ romance with a hero to die for. ~Fresh Fiction

This is not your usual rocker romance. I thank the author for creating strong characters and taking a different course from usual. We really need more strong characters like Kinley and Quinn in the romance genre. ~The Romance Reviews

With Vengeance

I was hooked the minute I started reading!! This is a totally different rock star book, but that’s not a bad thing at all!! It’s refreshing to see a rock star not be all about the ‘rock star’ lifestyle. Klement and Katana’s relationship is pure and genuine and I can’t say enough good words about it! ~B1tches N Books

Plenty of kicking ass, hilarious moments, and one hell of a romance. ~Librarian by Day, Reader by Night

Rock God

This story has the right mix of sex, sweet and romance. I fell in love with the characters from the very first page. ~Bramley, Emma, Obsessed Book Reviews

Brooklyn Ann weaves us another amazing story fill with drama, angst, passion, and inspiration. Her characters are so realistic and written with so much depth… it’s hard not to become emotionally attached to them all! ~Rachel, Behind Closed Doors Book Reviews

Metal and Mistletoe

Another winner. If you haven't read this author you're missing something. ~LuvLeeLorraine

I will definitely read this one again when I want to feel warm, fuzzy and hopeful for my own happy ending. ~Fan Forever

Forbidden Song

This is my favorite Bleeding Vengeance story. I was a little emotional as this story unfolded with happy tears at the end. I highly recommend this book and series. ~Christine Woinich

Brooklyn Ann has created another great read in her Hearts of Metal series. Brooklyn writes in such a way as to show you the character development. Well worth reading. ~All Things Book

Tempting Beat

The author is smart enough to keep the reader hooked - the characters are terrific, and even the secondary characters are well drawn. So read this book and slip into your Cinderella shoes - and fall in love with a young, handsome rock star who is more than he appears to be! ~JennM

I always look forward to a new book by Brooklyn Ann! I know I'm in for a treat and a fantastic read long into the night. I've read all her books, I've never been disappointed. This is book 6 in the Hearts of Metal series, but each book can definitely stand alone. Though you will want to go back and read about the other characters lives and how they came to be together. They are not typical romance books. There's something special about each one, making each one different. More than five stars! ~ginger@thebeach

Heart Throb

I don’t want this series to end because I need more from all of the bands! I loved the way each character was not only depicted as skilled at what they did but also as imperfect, vulnerable, normal human beings. This was a fabulous read, with well-developed characters and a fascinating setting. ~BookLover

"Hot chemistry, romance, drama, and perceived betrayal make up this gripping rockstar romance. Heart Throb is an entertaining read that moves at a good pace, thus keeping you entertained until the very end. Both Brand and Lexi are likable characters and are well developed. I really enjoyed this book and I am definitely going back to read the rest of the series." ~AT_202

DON’T GO IN THE WOODS

Computer nerd, Wes Carpenter, dreads having to spend ten days at summer camp with the rest of his in-coming high school senior class. But when he meets strong-willed and confident farm girl, Linnea Langenkamp, everything about being away at camp improves immediately. When a malicious prank awakens an ancient evil, turning their summer romance into a bloodbath, Wes and Linnea pray they make it home alive while fighting for the survival of their classmates. With Wes’s ingenuity and Linnea’s knowledge of the forest, together they may be able to stop the killer, save the camp, and maybe even find their happily ever after on the way.

HIS FINAL GIRL

B Mine – Book One

Brooklyn Ann

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

HIS FINAL GIRL

Copyright © 2019 Brooklyn Ann

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-948029-87-2

E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

To Karen Ann, who introduced me to horror movies and started my lifelong love of the genre.

To my grandmothers, Sharon and Ruth,

both strong women who know how to run a farm and so much more.

And to Kent Butler, my own nerdy hero.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you so much to all the people who helped make my dream come true.

Thank you, Kent, for reminding me that I need to write what I love and giving me the courage to approach my editor and agent with the crazy idea to write horror romance.

Thank you to my agent, Nephele Tempest, and my editor, Michelle Klayman, for giving said crazy idea a chance.

Thank you, Raye Roeske and Layla J. Omorose, for being incredibly supportive friends.

Thank you to the Night Writers group for doing sprints with me so I could keep the words flowing.

Thank you to Bad Movie Club for watching every summer camp slasher movie with me and for giving me the idea to feature the epically bad movie Caligula in this book.

Thank you to Hans Curtis for helping me come up with one of the funnier death scenes.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

When I was two years old, I crept out of my room and hid behind the couch, peeking around it while my mom watched Nightmare on Elm Street. When she caught me, she picked me up and set me down beside her. We watched horror movies together for the rest of my childhood.

All my life, I’ve loved horror movies and novels. And when I began my first efforts to become a writer, I wanted to write horror, but as with my attempts at writing fantasy, my characters kept falling in love. So, I resigned myself to writing romance, which didn’t bother me at all because I’ve ADORED romance novels ever since I picked up my first one. Come to think of it, I think my romance novel addiction happened at the same time as my Stephen King addiction.

But all through my nineteen books and counting career of writing romance, my love and enthusiasm for horror, ESPECIALLY the cheesy 80s movies, never waned. In fact, it grew.

Then a year ago, Boroughs Publishing said they wanted a new series from me. I was suffering burnout from my Regencies and rock stars (still love ’em, but after six of each, it was time for something different).

I STILL want to write horror, I whined to Kent. But everything I write turns into a romance.

Why can’t you do both? he asked.

At first, I opened my mouth to argue, then I shut it. Why couldn't I?

In Nightmare on Elm Street 4, Alice’s boyfriend lives. In Night of the Demons, the final girl AND a guy live. (In my head-canon, they fell in love after.)

And an idea came.

I emailed my publisher and agent and pitched a series of books themed on 80s B horror movies, only instead of there being a Final Girl, there’d be a Final Couple who’d get their HEA after defeating the killer/monster/demon/etc.

I expected them to reject the idea, but they loved it.

The series will be called B Mine after my beloved B movies, and I hope you enjoy this first one, a summer camp slasher romance.

As always, I want to thank my readers for following me in my journeys of stories of people falling in love in the strangest circumstances.

This one may be my strangest yet.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

About the Author

HIS FINAL GIRL

Chapter One

August 1978, Sinchlep, Idaho

Linnea parked the old red tractor in the barn, wincing as black exhaust blatted out the tailpipe before she killed the ignition. The 1958 International was in dire need of a tune-up and she prayed it wouldn’t croak before money came in from the harvest. Sweat beaded on her brow from laboring in the late summer heat, but she didn’t dare wipe it off with the sleeve of her shirt. Not with all the hay chaff from the fields and barn. At least the haying was finished last week. Her muscles still ached from bucking the heavy bales onto the flatbed trailer.

After she jumped off the worn tractor seat, her work boots sent up a cloud of dust from the barn floor. Shafts of sunlight turned the swirling motes a brilliant gold as she turned to admire the orderly stacks of hay in the barn. Pride swelled in her chest. Mr. Ferguson, who owned the dairy farm a few miles down the road, had said that they couldn’t do the haying without a man, but Linnea, Mom, and Grandma had proved him wrong. Technically for the third time, since Grandpa had been too sick to do much in the last two years before the cancer had claimed him.

The Langenkamp women had been managing their farm fine as could be without a man. Sure, they weren’t swimming in cash like the Fergusons, but they hadn’t had as much to start with as the dairy farmer from Texas. Besides, they were keeping their bills paid and had enough to eat, and that was what counted. And when Linnea graduated next year, she’d be able to work the farm full time and dedicate herself to doubling its profit.

Shucking off her work gloves, she pulled her handkerchief from her overalls and wiped the sweat from her brow. She winced as she felt the painful swelling of a new pimple right in the middle of her forehead.

Great, she muttered. As if her sunburned face over her farmer’s tan and her mousy brown hair weren’t screaming ordinary enough, she had to get acne too. The girls—and some of the boys—at school would have more ammunition to add to their arsenal of mockery.

Linnea kicked a stray scrap of tree bark on the path outside the barn. It didn’t matter what they said. She had more important things to worry about. Like how to get the lumber on the farm back on the market. Only Grandpa had been able to bring down the tall pines on their six hundred and forty acres of land. But Linnea was strong, and she was eighteen. Mom couldn’t stop her from learning the lumber aspect of the business.

She would save that argument for later, though. Now all she wanted was to head into the shaded house, have a snack, and drink a tall glass of apple juice. Exhaustion, coupled with the sweltering heat, nearly made her knees buckle as she walked up the steep driveway to the farmhouse. Maybe she could have a swim in the pond before supper.

Mom and Grandma were in the kitchen, snacking on some of Grandma’s famous frosted gingersnaps. Linnea’s stomach rumbled, but she knew that if she reached for one before washing up, she’d get a smack on the wrist.

As if reading her mind, Grandma tipped her a wink. At fifty-five, Ruth Langenkamp was still a beautiful woman, though years of hard work had etched deep lines around her eyes and mouth. Strength radiated from her wiry muscles and sun-browned face. Alongside her husband, she’d built this house with her bare hands. Linnea admired her more than anyone in the world.

A smidgen of guilt nipped her conscience as she scrubbed the dirt and grime from her hands beneath the soothing cool water at the kitchen sink. Her mom was pretty strong too, having faced the shame of her peers when she had found out she was pregnant after her high school sweetheart got drafted. Mom was expelled the moment her pregnancy began to show, but she didn’t let that ruin her life. Instead she helped her parents on the farm and wrote letters every week to her love. He wrote back ten times, promising that when he came home, they’d be married. But before Linnea was even a year old, he was killed by a sniper in a surprise attack from the Viet Cong.

Faith Langenkamp’s spirit refused to break. She turned down three marriage proposals, more if one counted the many that Mr. Ferguson had offered. Faith’s heart was still joined with Linnea’s father, and besides, Faith knew that Mr. Ferguson only wanted her for the land. He was almost as old as Grandpa.

Sometimes, Linnea thought it was sad that her mother had never found another love, but most of the time she was happy with the cozy foursome—now triad—at home and was relieved that some strange man hadn’t come in and interfered with their peace. She didn’t want to go to school with bruises on her back like her friend, Suzanne. Or with a constant look of utter terror like Jenny Dunaway, who, Linnea had learned, was touched by stepfather at night.

No, she was fine having only her mom and grandma raising her. Grandpa had been father enough.

Her mom’s voice pulled her back into the kitchen where she stood with a towel in her hands. Woolgathering again?

A little. Linnea finished drying her hands and returned to the table to collect her well-earned cookie. That fencepost had been a real pain in the ass.

Mom picked up a letter from a stack of mail on the counter and smiled at Linnea. I have some good news, Linny. Your name was drawn for a free trip to the Senior Summer Camp.

Linnea choked on her cookie. After coughing crumbs into the napkin Grandma handed her, Linnea managed to croak, What?

For the past thirty years, it had been tradition for Amteep High School’s incoming senior class to spend ten days at Camp Natliskeliguten, Camp Natty for short. Pictures of the place and its happy campers were prominently featured in every yearbook. Rumor had it, more virginities were lost at camp than at Homecoming and the Prom combined. Linnea had heard some of her classmates talking about it before summer break started, but hadn’t expected to, or wanted to go.

It looks like you’re going to get a little vacation after all, Mom continued, oblivious to her daughter’s dismay. I can see why you didn’t ask me. The fee is normally a hundred dollars. In my day it was thirty-five. But there’s a lottery and—

I’m one of the charity cases, Linnea finished bitterly. And God knew how many there were. As far as she knew, fundraising for the camp scholarship was indifferent at best. "Can we have them send someone else? Plenty other students would appreciate camp more than me. I already know the forest experience. I live in one."

It’s not about the forest, Mom said in that chiding tone that always built to a full lecture. "It’s about the whole experience. Spending time with your friends, meeting new people."

I’ll see my friends at school, Linnea objected. And I already know everyone in my class.

There will be some new people, Mom fired back. That lovely house on Elm in downtown Amteep sold two months ago, remember? And I heard from Donna that it’s a family with a boy your age. Also, the Creeds fell on hard times and can’t afford to send their children to private school anymore, so their eldest will probably be going to Amteep High. And three houses in the new subdivision uptown were sold and we’ve seen all sorts of new faces at the grocery store.

Well, I can meet them when school starts. Linnea’s shoulders slumped. She knew she had lost the argument before making her case. Grandma gave her a little smirk before turning back to Mom.

You’re going and that’s final. Mom grasped Linnea’s hands across the kitchen table. You’ll leave on the twelfth and be back on the twenty-first.

But I don’t want to. Desperation strained Linnea’s voice. Why are you pushing this on me?

Because I want you to have some life experiences and not end up like me. Mom’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. I missed out on half my senior year. No prom, no graduation, no opportunities for sleepovers and adventures. You were worth it, of course, but…

As she trailed off, Linnea opened her mouth to argue that she didn’t want to live out her mother’s missed opportunities, but then Mom said, You’ve spent all summer working on the farm. And though we needed the help and the property will be yours someday, you should have some normal teenage fun before you take the reins. This is your last year to be a kid and I want you to at least enjoy some of it.

I’m eighteen, not a kid anymore.

Grandma lowered her glasses. Don’t talk back to your mother.

Sorry, Grandma. Linnea looked down at the blue checkered tablecloth. But I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you two. There’s so much work to be done and—

Hogwash. Grandma rose from her chair and opened the fridge and