Tired of happily ever after? Bring back yearning with some paranormal...
Sad Girl Smut!
Sad. Funny. Scathing. Horny. Coming soon...
Every Girl You Love After Me
Vy (pronounced VEE) is dead. 😭⚰️ For Vy, there has only ever been Beau. He was her first kiss 💋, her last—her only—love 💞🖇; yet somehow, they took each other for granted because they always thought they’d have tomorrow.
🫶🏻🥹❤️🩹
Beau is alive. At 25, he must go on living. Vy knows that one day, the love of her life will move on 🏃💨. She wants him to find 🫀love🫀 and the happiness he deserves. But what if his next girl is prettier, sexier, braver—and Beau falls in love with her more deeply and completely than he’s ever loved Vy? 🥀🥹
Enters Randy, Vy’s middle-aged 😇 cosmic caseworker 😇. Good news: Randy tells Vy it’s not over 🙅🏻♂️❌—unfinished business is holding her back. He offers to send Vy back to earth 🌍—reincarnate her—in whatever form she chooses, and she can take care of whatever she has left to do and get the answers she needs.
Determined, Vy begins 🛠️ rebuilding herself 🔧—maybe if she were hotter 🔥, maybe if she controlled her temper 😡 better, maybe if they were given a second, third, or fourth chance, she and Beau would finally get all the variables in their relationship right.
But every new iteration runs into the same paradox: Beau keeps falling for new versions of her 😍. Vy's old tendencies keep getting in the way. And with each reset, it becomes increasingly difficult to tell: is she proving that they are they soulmates—or proving that Beau could have loved any woman better than the woman she actually was?
Meet Buzienne H. Nguyen
Hi friends! I'm Buzienne.
My novels are love letters to every woman who has ever been in my life—to their strength, their tenacity, their empathy, and yes, even to their pettiness, horniness, and irrationality. I love writing emotionally messy heroines who wear their hearts on their sleeves while making increasingly unhinged decisions. I love reading classics and literary fiction, and I love reading fairy-smut and other "frivolous, feminine, this-is-why-there's-a-literary-crisis" books.
I adore the English language. My writing tends to meander, ebb, and flow; the sentences are inefficient and highly associative; at times, they don't advance the plot—because sometimes, a weight as enormous as grief hits while you're at dinner sharing mango slices with a friend.
Anyway, if you liked the writing in this bio, you'll probably enjoy my book. If you found it completely pretentious and insufferable, my name is George, pls pretend you never saw this page—wait, what book is coming out again? (I'm just kidding, I still love you.)
