B00AAOCX2E EBOK (40 page)

“Me, too,” Chelsea said. “People know we live together, so they figured I’ve got the inside scoop.”

“What inside scoop?” I asked. “They pretty much heard everything there was to hear on the radio last night.”

“I think they want confirmation that...you know.” Amery’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.

“That we did the deed?” Talk about nosy and intrusive.

Amery shrugged. “Like I said, it’s the whole celebrity thing. Either way, you should enjoy it. You’re the envy of all the girls, while Ian is now considered the most romantic man on campus.”

Catching Ian’s smirk, I pinched his leg.

“Sure,” I said to Amery, “the girls all envy me because they’re not the subject of people’s scrutiny.”

“Don't you think you’re overreacting?” Chelsea asked.

I shot a glance around the restaurant, and sure enough, more than a dozen eyes were turned our way. “Look around; everyone in here keeps looking at us.”

Chelsea looked and laughed. “Wow, they kind of are.”

“See. It’s like they’re waiting for our heads to spin around or something.”

“Ignore them then,” Amery advised. “Don’t make a big deal of it. They’ll get bored and find something else to talk about.”

Amery was probably right. Sighing, I grabbed a menu from the middle of the table and held it open between myself and Ian. “Have you guys ordered?”

“Just drinks,” Casey answered.

My stomach growled as I studied the menu. Now that I was here, I almost felt weak with hunger. An all-night sex marathon tended to do that to me. I had just decided what I wanted to eat when I saw someone stopping at the table. I looked up to see Jayden waiting. Right on time.

“Hey, Jayden, what are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sweet as honey and slick as oil.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Ian asked.

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Behave.”

“Um, you told me to come,” Jayden said.

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, I had, having called him when Ian was in the shower. But he had obviously missed the ‘just happened to stop by,' excuse I’d provided him with. Men could be so dense!

“Yeah, and that was supposed to be a secret,” I said quietly, causing him to flush in embarrassment. “Anyway. You remember my friends, right? Casey, Chelsea,
Amery
?”

He smiled crookedly at Amery. “Hello.”

“And Amery, you remember Jayden, right?”

Amery gave me a long questioning stare and I smiled. She tore her eyes away from me and smiled up at Jayden. “Yeah. Hi.”

“Good, so why don’t you join us. Look there’s an empty seat next to Amery. Sit, talk. We’re just getting ready to order.”

Ian peered at me. “So, it’s Amery and Jayden, now?” he asked.

“Yes. Or I have a feeling it will be,” I murmured out of the corner of my mouth. “Trust me.”

He nodded. “I do.”

Jayden sat down and looked around the restaurant with a frown. “I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but it seems like everyone is looking over here.”

Wow, someone who didn’t know what happened the night before. How refreshing.

“No, I haven’t noticed anything,” Amery said. “Have you, Ivy?”

I leaned into Ian’s side with a small smile. “Nah. It must be your imagination.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Where the hell are my headphones?”

I bit my lip down on a giggle as I watched Ian spin around. “Where’d you leave ‘em?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking, now, would I?” He patted himself down from his neck to hips, then spun another circle.

I couldn’t hold the laughter back anymore when he actually shimmied his hips, as if trying to shake them loose.

Ian stopped mid-spin to turn to look at me. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, while I tried to keep my face absolutely blank. “You have them,” he finally said.

I widened my eyes and brought my hand to my chest. “
Moi
?”

“You do, don’t you?”

Lifting my leg onto his chair, I sat forward and brought them out from behind my back, letting them dangle on the tip of my pointer-finger. “Well, maybe.”

Ian reached out for them, but I yanked my hand back and out of his reach. “I don’t think so, bub. You have to pay the toll, first.”

With a soft snort of laughter that quickly transformed into a grin, Ian dropped to his knees before me and pulled me down on his lap. I tossed my head back and laughed, then looked down into his green eyes and pressed my mouth to his. Feeling a little curl in my lower belly, I deepened the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck and sighing when his fingers started to slide under my skirt.

Amery cleared her throat. “Ugh, would you two cut that out, please? We do have a show to do.”

Pulling my mouth away, I smiled. “Sorry, Amery.”

“I’m not,” Ian murmured, leaning in to put his mouth on my neck.

“Is this gonna become a normal thing? Because, while I’m really happy for you two, I just don’t know how much I can handle. And I just heard that the campus television station is hiring interns.”

“Don’t tease us like that, Amery. You know you’d never want to leave us.”

“Much more of that, and I will.”

Tearing myself away from Ian, I climbed into my chair. Ian did the same, smoothing his hair back and whistling out a breath. When he looked to have gained more control, he wound his headphones around his neck and turned his attention to the computer. “Ten seconds.”

Winking at him, I counted down the remaining seconds and then flipped the switch.

“Welcome back, Razorbacks, to the long-awaited return of
The Truths about Dating and Mating
, with Ian Hollister and Ivy Rossini! You heard that right. We’re back on the air, thanks to you, and hotter than ever.”

“That’s right, listeners,” Ian said. “Calls, emails, and texts have flown into the station, requesting our speedy return, so here we are, back in action, and ready to answer your questions.”

“So pick up those phones and give us a call,” I said. “We have lost time to make up for and want to hear everything we’ve been missing. And that number, in case you’ve forgotten, is 555-KRAZ.”

“But before we begin,” Ian reached out for my hand, twining his fingers in mine, “let me preface tonight’s show by saying that, as recent events have taught us, even
we
don’t have all the right answers. The real truth is,
no one
has all the right answers. Sometimes you just have to follow your gut and do what’s right for you, regardless of what others say. But, if still find yourself in need of some friendly advice, then we’ll be here, and we promise to do our best to steer you in the right direction. The rest, as they say, is up to you.”

Just like it takes a whole village to raise a child, it takes an entire community's support to get your book to see the light of day, and I couldn't have finished this without the help of these people:

Thanks to Mom, Dad, John and Linda for your support, love, encouragement, and advice.

Thanks to my incredible husband, Jim, who has put up with my obsession to get this done the last year, been there to offer support and positive words when I started getting down on myself, and for reminding me why I write in the first place. I love you! (And I promise to start doing more of the housework soon.)

Major love to “Seph” and “C-Dub” for being my little cuties and putting up with mommy being busy all the time.

Thanks to Juliana Haygert., Jaybird, Suzanne R., my sister Angela B., and everyone else who has beta’d or even just looked over parts of my story, also to Stephanie Lott for first-round editing services. Any mistakes left over are
entirely mine
.

Thanks to my CP Victoria Smith, who has helped push me into being a better writer this last year, been there to chat, laugh with and rant to. She’s co-hosted many a blog hops with me, helped start NA Alley, and has sent me great texts (21 fun!). You rock, girl!

Thanks to Amery, Ivy, Nathan, Jim, Carrie, Angela, and Casey for allowing me the use of their names.

Thanks to the awesome and incredibly supportive blogging community for reading my excerpts, participating in my blog hops, and being willing to host my virtual tour and taken times out of their busy schedule to read my blog.

Thanks to my incredible NA Sisters for your support, fun discussions, and lively debates. You ladies are just wonderful!

A huge shout out to Nadia Lee, whose book on formatting for Kindle and Nook made it possible to format this book.

And thanks to anyone who has read enough of my book to get to this section!

Jaycee DeLorenzo hails from Tucson, Arizona, on the outskirts of the Saguaro National Park – which she believes to be the most beautiful spread of desert in the world. By day, Jaycee is an English language teacher to elementary students. By night, she’s a wife, mother, writer, cover artist, website designer, and blogger. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, cooking, singing (very poorly), catching up on her favorite T.V. shows, and researching.

The Truths about Dating and Mating
is Jaycee's debut novel, and the first in a series centering around students of the fictitious Riordan College.

Author Contact:
Website:
http://jayceedelorenzo.com
Blog:
http://blog.jayceedelorenzo.com
Twitter:
@jayceedelorenzo
Facebook:
jaycee.delorenzo

This excerpt is a pre-edited version. Ocean Kills, book one of Ocean Breeze Series, is due for release December 2012. ARC’s (advanced reader copies) are available to anyone who will post honest reviews. Please contact Jade Hart on
[email protected]
for more details.

Author contact details:

email:
[email protected]
Twitter:
Jadehart8
Facebook:
JadeHartAuthorPage
Blog:
www.dreamwritepublish.blogspot.com
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16057779-ocean-kills

Chapter One: Ocean

My name is Ocean Breeze. Yep. Ocean
freakin'
Breeze. It was my mom's attempt at some posh-sounding name. She was inspired by—get this—a bottle of toilet air-freshener. My heart squeezed at the thought of a cookie-scented woman with hugs that held sunshine.

The sound of my Nikes pummelling the pavement chased away my thoughts. The slapping of rubber against asphalt was similar to the slap the last prostitute-abusing john gave me. Stinking bastard. No one raises a hand to Ocean Breeze without losing an appendage. Or more, as the case may be.

I swiped my hands on my vinyl, red miniskirt. It wasn't exactly an attractive outfit—Nikes with a miniskirt? But I've learned the hard way. Running in heels never worked. Ever. The sleazy men who paid for sex didn't care what was on my feet, only what was between them.

I jumped and jived through the crowd. It was two in the morning, and the streets of Kings Cross, Sydney, were a hive of activity. Drunken students hauled themselves from karaoke clubs. Rich business men back-slapped each other for the lap dance from the uni-student, who pocketed their tips to pay for her law degree. This place was full of clichés and smut.

And I loved it.

I could disappear here. I was a nobody. Even boasting a pair of ruby lips and a figure that could've graced the center fold of Playboy, I didn’t stand out. Beauty was coveted in the Cross, and plastic surgery was the salvation if nature didn’t do the work.

So why was I running?

I just killed a guy. That's why.

I bolted past the three-story sized Coca-Cola advertisement, blazing red and white, and disappeared into an alley full of meth-heads and crack whores. I leaped over comatose figures, sprinting toward the city centre.
Keep running. Get far away.

The night was heavy with muggy heat, unusual for this time of year, and sweat made my miniskirt slide against my thighs.

Kings Cross embraced sin and naughtiness. The suburb encouraged unleashed pleasure and endless partying. It also encouraged rapists and murderers who lurked in the shadows. . . waiting.

A flash of blue and red lights.

Sirens.

Fuck!
I pirouetted on my heel and charged down another alley, passing a gay club blasting Kylie Minogue.
Ugh
.

“You! Stop!”

Yeah, no chance of that, Fat Cop.
I flipped him the bird, and kept running. He jumped back in his cruiser and gave chase.
Lazy bastard
. Too many kebabs and doughnuts for that slob. He wouldn't catch me. No one ever caught me.

I smiled. I loved the chase. I loved the kill. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t enjoy murdering someone, but I did enjoy the knowledge that he’d never hurt another. My cut-throat actions saved other would-be victims. Plus, that john deserved it.

Memories overtook my vision.
Heavy breath on my cheek, rancid smell as he slobbered on my neck. Then warm, oozing blood as my weapon of convenience—a long skinny oyster knife—buried deep in the man's groin. Ridding him of a vital piece of his anatomy and draining his body of crimson. One moment alive, the next—not. Then rushed practicality: Dispose of my surgical gloves. Wipe the corpse with antiseptic wipes. Remove the man's DNA, fingerprints, and blood from my body.

Adrenaline spiked, dousing my already overloaded system. My heart thudded as fast as the bass at a techno club. The pavement flickered and I stumbled.

No, not now!
My vision danced like a mirage. I no longer had control of my body.

Sirens were closer, breathing down my neck.
Keep moving, Ocean! For freakin' sake, move!

No amount of yelling could stop the migraine from consuming me. I screamed and clutched my temples, slamming to the concrete. The sidewalk danced under my phantasm goggles, no longer acting like rock and tar, but candy floss and gossamer.
I'm going. I'm going. . .