‘Veronica Mars’ meets ‘Felicity’ in this sexy, snarky, New Adult Romantic Suspense novel.
Jasmine “Jazz” Holloway gets more than she bargained for when she heads to Sutton College for her freshman year. A long-distance relationship with her high-school boyfriend is tough to maintain. Especially when Brennan, the cute boy down the hall, keeps flirting. And after someone starts threatening her roommate, Jazz enlists the help of Sean, a smokin’ hot upperclassman who runs a P.I. agency out of a darkened corner of the library.
Jazz has to fight her attraction to both guys as she works to uncover the stalker. But as the stakes rise and tension heightens, the hardest part for Jazz will be keeping her own secret...what she’s really doing at Sutton College. And that’s something no one can know.
I swallowed my nerves and approached the table. Some computer hacker who ran a detective agency out of a corner of the college library? That screamed dork. I’d figured I’d be meeting the King of the Nerds. And that was fine. I was a nerd, too. It was just a bit of a jolt to walk over here expecting one thing and find a chiseled six-foot-something gorgeous specimen of man. Or as Audrey would have said, a total panty-dropper.
He had to have heard my footsteps, but he didn’t look up. I cleared my throat. That didn’t help either. Might as well dive right in then.
“Hi, um, I heard that you—”
“No fake IDs,” he said, still not looking up.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t make fake IDs.”
“Good, because I don’t want that,” I said in the best bitch tone I could muster.
He put the book down on his lap and looked up at me. His eyes gave me a quick once-over. Then he slightly raised one eyebrow. “You.”
“What do you want?”
“I heard that you…help people.”
He raised his left shoulder slightly, like he couldn’t be bothered to complete a full shrug. “Sometimes.”
I suppressed a groan. He really wasn’t making this easy, and I didn’t have much patience. I snapped, “So are you in the mood to help people tonight, or are you just going to read?”
A small smirk. “That depends on what you need. I’m not going to help you stalk Renee Willand.”
“Good. Because I’m not interested in stalking anyone. I’m interested in stopping a stalker.”
He pulled his legs down off the table and sat straight up. Apparently that had gotten his attention. He steepled his fingers. “Someone is stalking you?”
“No, my roommate. Threatening notes, a text.”
His dark eyes seemed to grow even darker. “Saying what?”
“Whore, slut—the usual vocabulary of society’s lowest common denominator.”
He picked his book back up and flipped to the end. Then he tore out a page.
I shuddered my disapproval at his book violence.
Noticing my disgusted expression, he said, “Don’t worry. It was a blank page and the book didn’t feel a thing.” He scribbled something on the paper and passed it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked before looking down.
“My room number and a time for our meeting. Bring your roommate.”
With that, he stood, book under his arm, and walked past me like it was the most natural way to end a conversation.
“You’re taking our case?” I yelled at his back.
He didn’t stop. He just called over his shoulder, “Don’t be late.”
Kelly Killarney loves writing suspense and romance with a dash of attitude. She lives with her family and a head full of characters.