A modern-day Alice in Wonderland meets the undead… Alice in Zombieland , the first book in The White Rabbit Chronicles, introduces readers to a world newly overrun by zombies...and the one girl who may be able to save mankind. She won't rest until she's sent every walking corpse back to its grave. Had anyone told Alice Bell that her entire life would change course between one heartbeat and the next, she would have laughed. But that's all it took. One heartbeat. A blink, a breath, a second, and everything she knew and loved was gone. Her father was right. The monsters are real. To avenge her family, Ali must learn to fight the undead. To survive, she must learn to trust the baddest of the bad boys, Cole Holland. But Cole has secrets of his own, and if Ali isn't careful, those secrets might just prove to be more dangerous than the zombies. The White Rabbit Chronicles: Alice in Zombieland Through the Zombie Glass The Queen of Zombie Hearts A Mad Zombie Party "Showalter has created a promising playground for future story installments." --Kirkus Reviews "[An] action- packed paranormal story with a giddy focus on the push-and-pull attraction between Ali and Cole and the nastier side of the high school social scene. The result is a zippy story with crossover appeal that highlights the power of guilt, faith, and self-confidence." -- Publishers Weekly "The action-oriented plot mixed with scenes of a passionate romance between Ali and Cole-and a new way to look at zombies (by fighting them in spirit form)-will be certain to delight fans of paranormal fantasy." --VOYA Gena Showalter is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over seventy books, including the acclaimed Lords of the Underworld series, the Gods of War series, the White Rabbit Chronicles, and the Forest of Good and Evil series. She writes sizzling paranormal romance, heartwarming contemporary romance, and unputdownable young adult novels, and lives in Oklahoma City with her family and menagerie of dogs. Visit her at GenaShowalter.com. "Please, Alice. Please." I lay sprawled on a blanket in my backyard, weaving a daisy chain for my little sister. The sun shone brightly as puffy white clouds ghosted across an endless expanse of baby blue. As I breathed in the thick honeysuckle and lavender perfume of the Alabama summer, I could make out a few shapes. A long, leggy caterpillar. A butterfly with one of its wings shredded. A fat white rabbit, racing toward a tree. Eight-year-old Emma danced around me. She wore a glittery pink ballerina costume, her pigtails bouncing with her every movement. She was a miniature version of our mother and the complete opposite of me. Both possessed a slick fall of dark hair and beautifully up-tilted golden eyes. Mom was short, barely over five-three, and I wasn't sure Em would even make it to five-one. Me? I had wavy white-blond hair, big blue eyes and legs that stretched for miles. At five-ten, I was taller than most of the boys at my school and always stood out—I couldn't go anywhere without getting a few what-are-you-a-giraffe? stares. Boys had never shown an interest in me, but I couldn't count the number of times I had caught one drooling over my mom as she walked by or—gag—heard one whistle as she bent over to pick something up. "Alless." At my side now, Em stomped her slippered foot in a bid for my attention. "Are you even listening to me?" "Sweetie, we've gone over this, like, a thousand times. Your recital might start while it's sunny out, but it'll end at dark. You know Dad will never let us leave the house. And Mom agreed to sign you up for the program as long as you swore never to throw a tantrum when you couldn't make a practice or a, what? Recital." She stepped over me and planted those dainty pink slippers at my shoulders, her slight body throwing a large enough shadow to shield my face from the overhead glare. She became all that I could see, shimmering gold pleading down at me. "Today's your birthday, and I know, I know, I forgot this morning…and this afternoon…but last week I remembered that it was coming up— you remember how I told Mom, right?—and now I've remembered again, so doesn't that count for something? 'Course it does," she added before I could say anything. "Daddy has to do whatever you ask. So, if you ask him to let us go, and…and…" so much longing in her tone "…and ask if he'll come and watch me, too, then he will." My birthday. Yeah. My parents had forgotten, too. Again. Unlike Em, they hadn't remembered—and wouldn't. Last year, my dad had been a little too busy throwing back shots of single malt and mumbling about monsters only he could see and my mom had been a little too busy cleaning up his mess. As always. This year, Mom had hidden notes in drawers to remind herself (I'd found them), and as Em had claimed, my baby sis had even hinted before flat out saying, "Hey, Alice's birthday is coming up and I think she deserves a party!" but I'd woken up