Does 'The Broken Girls' Have A Sequel Or Spin-Off?

As someone who devours mystery novels like candy, 'The Broken Girls' had me hooked from page one. Lorraine's murder is this haunting puzzle that unfolds through dual timelines, and the reveal hit me like a ton of bricks. It turns out Mary Hand, the ghostly figure haunting Idlewild Hall, didn't directly kill Lorraine—but her presence is tied to the crime. The real culprit was Tim Christopher, Lorraine's boyfriend, who murdered her to keep their relationship secret. What makes this twist so chilling isn't just the act itself, but how it mirrors the book's themes of silenced women and buried secrets. The brilliance of Simone St. James' writing lies in how she connects Lorraine's 1950s murder to Fiona's modern-day investigation. Tim's motive—protecting his reputation—exposes the toxic masculinity prevalent in both eras. The way Mary Hand's legend grows around Lorraine's death adds this supernatural layer of justice, like the school itself won't let the crime be forgotten. The murder weapon, a rock from the field where Mary allegedly died, becomes this eerie symbol of cyclical violence. It's not just a whodunit; it's a commentary on how history repeats when truths stay hidden.

I just finished 'The Broken Girls' last week, and the timeline really stuck with me. The main story unfolds in 2014, following journalist Fiona Sheridan as she investigates a murder tied to Idlewild Hall, a creepy abandoned boarding school. What makes this book special is how it jumps back to 1950, showing the school when it was still operating. The 1950s sections follow four roommates dealing with dark secrets at the school. The contrast between these two eras creates this awesome tension—modern investigative tools versus old-school mysteries that got buried with time. The 1950s setting feels particularly vivid, with its strict social rules and the way the girls navigate them.

I've read 'The Broken Girls' multiple times, and while it feels chillingly real, it's not based on a true story. Simone St. James crafted a fictional narrative inspired by real-life elements—abandoned boarding schools, cold cases, and urban legends. The setting mirrors actual 'asylums for troubled girls' that existed in the mid-20th century, places where society hid away women who didn't conform. The ghost story woven into the plot taps into universal fears, but the specific events and characters are products of St. James' imagination. If you want something based on true crime, try 'The Stranger Beside Me' by Ann Rule—it's about Ted Bundy.

In 'The Broken Girls', Idlewild Hall's abandonment stems from a perfect storm of neglect and tragedy. The school for troubled girls operated under horrific conditions—abuse was rampant, funding dried up, and authorities turned a blind eye. When student Mary Hand died under suspicious circumstances in the 1950s, her ghost allegedly haunted the grounds, accelerating the school's decline. By the 1970s, the administration couldn't cover up the disappearances and deaths anymore. The final straw was a high-profile scandal involving a missing teacher, which forced closure. The decaying buildings became a magnet for urban explorers and true crime enthusiasts, cementing its reputation as Vermont's most infamous ruins.

I just finished 'The Broken Girls' and the way it weaves history with mystery is absolutely gripping. The novel alternates between two timelines—1950s Vermont and the present day—creating this eerie parallel between past and present crimes at the Idlewild Hall boarding school. The historical thread dives deep into the oppressive atmosphere of the 1950s, showing how society treated 'difficult' girls by shoving them into this grim institution. It’s not just backdrop; the historical details fuel the mystery, like how the girls’ disappearances were brushed aside because no one cared about 'troublesome' orphans. The present-day storyline follows journalist Fiona Sheridan, who stumbles onto a decades-old murder connected to the school. The genius lies in how the past isn’t just solved—it actively haunts the present, with ghostly elements blurring the lines between historical injustice and supernatural revenge. The cold case isn’t a dusty artifact; it’s alive, demanding resolution. The book treats history like a crime scene, where every detail—racism, classism, the treatment of women—becomes a clue to unravel the central mystery. The blending isn’t just structural; it’s thematic. The historical sections aren’t there for flavor—they expose systemic flaws that explain why the mystery persisted unsolved. The ghosts aren’t cheap scares; they’re manifestations of unresolved trauma, tying the past’s brutality to the present’s quest for truth. The mystery genre’s usual 'whodunit' gets depth from the historical lens, making you question not just who killed the girls, but why the system let it happen. The pacing is masterful too—every reveal in the past timeline ratchets up the tension in the present, making it impossible to put down.

I love exploring the beauty of language, and when I think of what rhymes with 'broken', 'token' comes to mind. It's such a fascinating word, often tied to themes of value and meaning. Then there's 'woken', which speaks to consciousness and awareness, an important factor in today's society. I also think of 'smoking'—definitely an interesting contrast! Such words create a vibrant tapestry of connection, don’t you think? There’s something poetic about the way these words dance around each other. Rhymes make language feel alive and expressive, just like art. We can have fun experimenting with these words in songs or poetry. It really sparks creativity!

I just finished 'Girls Like Girls' and absolutely loved the ending. The main characters, Coley and Sonya, go through so much emotional turmoil and self-discovery throughout the story. The ending feels earned and satisfying, with Coley finally embracing her feelings and choosing Sonya despite the societal pressures around them. Their relationship isn't perfect—there are still challenges—but the final scenes show them together, happy and committed. It's a hopeful ending that stays true to the messy, beautiful reality of young love. The author doesn't shy away from the complexities of queer relationships, but ultimately, it leaves you feeling warm and optimistic about their future.

I've been following 'Girls Like Girls' closely, and from what I've gathered, there hasn't been any official announcement about sequels yet. The story wraps up pretty neatly, but the author left a few subtle hints that could lead to more. The ending suggests potential growth for the side characters, especially Kira's best friend, who seemed to have her own unresolved arc. I'd love to see a spin-off exploring her journey or even a time jump showing how the main couple navigates adulthood. The fanbase is definitely hungry for more, and the author's social media teases keep hope alive. Until then, I recommend checking out 'Her Royal Highness' for a similar vibe—it's got that same sweet, angsty rom-com energy.