Now that FLAME is written and STRICKEN has gone through edits, I've dived back into writing All Over You. You may remember meeting Cameron Lewis and Ivy Kendall in All Cried Out. All Over You is their story. It's a standalone prequel of sorts to the All Falls Down duo, featuring one bad-ass detective, a sassy kindergarten teacher, a deepening mystery, and plenty of heat. You don't have to read the All Falls Down duo to enjoy this one. It takes place well before Cam and Jared join teams to save Savannah's life.
Here's a little bit about the story, followed by a teaser.
Catfish meets good, old-fashioned police work when twenty-one year old Rory Clark comes up missing from UCLA after a lengthy online relationship with Ivy Kendall, a former model turned kindergarten teacher. Ivy claims to know nothing about Rory Clark, prompting her and Cameron Lewis, a bossy San Francisco detective with a dominant streak, to work together to uncover the awful truth about Rory's disappearance.
As the evidence against Ivy piles up and the attraction between her and Cameron deepens, he risks everything to prove her innocence. When the whole truth is revealed, and Cameron has to choose between the woman he's fallen for and his career in law enforcement, his and Ivy's lives come tumbling down around them.
Maroon 5's Payphone rips through my bedroom, pulling me out of a deep sleep.
I groan and roll toward my nightstand, searching blindly for my cell. My head is pounding. My mouth feels like sandpaper. I never want to leave my bed. Why did I let Erin talk me into drinking so much? Oh, right. Because she's the devil, and I'm clearly a glutton for punishment.
"I think I hate you, and I'm definitely never drinking vodka with you again," I mumble into the receiver, pulling the blankets up over my head and groaning. "How are you even functioning right now? My head is killing me." Cracking my eyes open, I frown at the black marker scrawled across my forearm. "And why the hell am I naked with your name and phone number written on me?" Lifting my arm so I can read the text beneath her number, I groan again. "If found, return to Erin? In permanent marker? Seriously, you whore? That's never going to come off! I'm firing you as my best friend."
"Uh…." a masculine voice answers with a chuckle.
I sit upright, my eyes widening. The blankets fall from around me and my head throbs in protest.
"You aren't Erin." I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
"No," the guy says with another dark chuckle, "I'm afraid not."
My mouth works, but no sound comes out. I cannot believe I didn't look at the phone before I started spouting off. Holding it away from my face, I squint at the number. It's familiar, but I can't place it. And it's already noon. I never sleep this late.
Jesus, what did Erin and I do last night?
I remember vodka, and Mitch and Erin grinding on the dance floor while Jake and I laughed our asses off at the two of them. A group of frat guys tried to pick us up at some point after my last set. Is that when Erin wrote on my arm? I can’t remember. I think Mitch poured us into cabs around 3 a.m. Everything that happened in between is a little fuzzy, though.
I hate vodka. And my best friend.
"You still there?" the man asks, still laughing at me.
"Yes. W-who are you?" I hold the phone up to my ear, praying it's no one important.
"This is Detective Lewis with the San Francisco Police Department. I'm trying to reach Miss Ivy Kendall."
Well, there goes my dignity.