A beautifully repackaged two-in-one reissue of Saving Zoe and Faking 19 by #1 New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël Secret wishes, hidden heartaches and painful truths. Everyone has them―but some secrets are harder to hide. We usually tell our best friends everything. Our crushes, our embarrassing stories, our secrets―but sometimes there are truths so deep and dark that we can't tell anyone. Not our parents, not our sisters…not even our best friends. Some secrets are so unspeakable that we keep them safely locked away so no one will ever discover them. But what happens when they become more than you can handle alone? In these two magnificent novels, two girls can't tell anyone about the terrible burdens they carry. But as they're about to learn, it's not our secrets that matter most―but those who still love us once they learn the truth. #1 New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël has had 9 books on the NYT bestseller list and more than 8 million copies in print. Her books have been translated into 36 languages and have made numerous US and international bestseller lists. Born and raised in Orange County, California, she’s lived in both Mykonos and Manhattan and is now settled back in Southern California. You can learn more about her books at alysonnoel.com. Keeping Secrets By Alyson Nol St. Martin's Griffin Copyright © 2012 Alyson Nol All right reserved. ISBN: 9781250018625 FAKING 19 FIVE CELEBRITIES I'D SLEEP WITH IN A SECOND 1. Richard Branson 2. Tobey Maguire 3. Edward Norton 4. Jake Gyllenhaal (sp?) 5. That guy with the dark hair and sunglasses that I saw at Java Daze that time with M that I know is famous but I just don't know what I've seen him in. Okay, so maybe my list isn't the same as yours. You're probably going, "What's with all the old guys?" or "Richard who?" or "What about Justin Timberlake?" or maybe just, "Eww!" Well, technically, I'm a virgin, so the whole list is sort of hypothetical anyway My best friend M thinks the Richard Branson thing is really sick. She thinks I'm obsessed and swears I've gotten all Freudian since my dad abandoned me. Personally I think M is taking her psychology class a little too seriously. My parents divorced when I was twelve. I knew it was over when my dad mumbled something about having to find himself as he walked out the door. I swear he was just like Burt Reynolds in Boogie Nights . I wish I could tell you about how much I miss him, but the truth is I just wasn't sorry to see him go. That was five years ago, and now at seventeen and a half I can honestly tell you that the only real difference is that these days we're kind of poor, when before we had stuff. Really, that's it. Sometimes it sucks, but for the most part it's totally worth it. I mean, nobody screams in the middle of the night anymore. There's just nothing worse than living in a house where people scream. I don't remember much about being a little kid. I guess it was an average California childhood. I mean some days I was in trouble and other days I was riding the Matterhorn at Disneyland. I just wanted to go to school, see my friends, ride my horse, eat dessert, and stay up past my bedtime. Those were my goals. Then when a few years passed, and I got a little older, I would just burrow deep under the covers when the screaming started. My sister swears it was really good once. Really happy, just like the Nickelodeon channel. But I can't remember that part. She's eight years older than me, so I guess all that happiness was before I was born. I've pretty much always assumed that I'm a product of make-up sex. Having divorced parents isn't so bad; when you grow up in Orange County it just makes you normal. Nearly everyone's parents are split, and those who aren't, are like totally on the verge. People here are stuck in a state of permanent adolescence. Most of my friends' mothers take yoga classes and raid their daughters' closets for cool stuff to wear, and their dads watch us a little too closely when we swim in the pool. It's like a continuous midlife crisis, and the parents are like teenagers with credit cards and no curfew. California is like a high school where no one graduates. I'm not kidding. Anyway, getting back to my "Branson thing," it's not problematic like M says. I'm not obsessed. I just really like him, admire him, and yeah, I think he's sexy. I mean who's supposed to make the list? *NSYNC? The Backstreet Boys? I'm sorry but I just can't go for that prepackaged, focus group, made-for-teens junk. Those guys are like shrink-wrapped with a Mattel stamp on their ass. I like to think I've developed a more mature, refined taste, but M just swears I've got a daddy complex. It all started one day last year when M and I were shopping around in this thrift store in Los Feliz (that's in LA). M was in the fitting room squeezing into a pair of old wrecked Levi's and I was just trying to entertain myself when I noticed this book titled Losing My Vi