Kisses Don't Stay Secret

Book 3: Eastbrooke Academy

by Jillian Dodd

Genres: YA Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Eastbrooke Academy is the next generation of the USA Today bestselling series, The Keatyn Chronicles. Filled with angst, cute preppy boys, and teen drama, Eastbrooke Academy is perfect for readers looking for:

* Contemporary teen romance books

* Binge-worthy series you can’t put down

* Gossip Girl meets The Summer I Turned Pretty

* Friends-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers, royalty romance

* Characters you want to be bffs with

Blurb and cover reveal coming soon.

 

Read more

Release date: March 29, 2024

Publisher: Swoonworthy Books

Print pages: 236

Sample

Wednesday, August 31st

An angry march.

12:30pm

 

 

As the plane races down the runway to take off, I realize I’ve come full circle. I’m going back to where it started.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine the view.

The ocean in the distance. The rows of grapes. The house on the hill. In just a few hours, I’ll be back where I belong.

“What the—” I hear yelled out from the cockpit just as I’m lurched forward in my seat when the plane’s brakes quickly engage.

I look out the window, watching as we skid, then go off into the grass, but I can’t see the reason why. Maybe there was an animal or something they didn’t want to hit?

But then I hear one of the pilots yelling about why the runway wasn’t clear.

The flight attendant hasn’t said anything. She’s still buckled in her seat, reading on her phone, like this is an everyday occurrence.

And it might be.

One time, when we were getting ready to land in London and our wheels were inches from touching the ground, the plane pulled up fast and ascended at a high rate of speed. A few moments later, the pilot came over the speaker and told us that even though we had been given permission to land, the runway wasn’t clear, so he would have to circle the airport a few times, then get back in line to make our final approach.

But then I hear the pilot go, “What does that asshole think he’s doing? He can’t just land wherever the hell he wants.”

I look out the window and find nothing out of the ordinary, so I get unbuckled, move to a seat on the left side of the plane, and see a black helicopter landing in the middle of the runway.

I watch as the doors open and a passenger gets out.

I blink a few times trying to figure out if who I think I see is actually there.

It can’t be.

But it is.

Johnny is walking at a fast clip across the runway toward my plane. He looks like a man on a mission, his gait authoritative.

Or is it more of an angry march?

Shit, he’s pissed.

At me.

The cockpit door bangs open, and the pilots come out, also looking angry. They open the cabin door and push down the airstairs at the same time that Johnny arrives.

“Thank you, good sirs,” he says, like they did it just for him.

The next thing I know, Johnny’s on the plane and in my face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Arrington?”

The pilot yells back at him, “That’s what we want to know!”

Johnny ignores them, his focus solely on me. “Did you really think you could just leave without a word or explanation? We have plans!”

At this point, the pilot goes, “Whoa now, buddy. Calm down.”

And I can tell by the way he says it, he must think Johnny is some jilted lover.

“Where are you going?” Johnny asks, his countenance quite serious.

“Away,” I offer sheepishly, suddenly feeling bad.

He shakes his head. “No, you’re not. You’re going to tell me what the hell happened between I love Augie and we’re staying at Eastbrooke to now. And I’ll tell you up front, the only acceptable explanation is that there was a serious family crisis. But I happen to know that’s not the case. So, the real question becomes, was I wrong about you? Are we not really friends?”

The sound of sirens fills the air, and I can see a security car and an ambulance with lights flashing, heading toward the plane.

The pilot says to Johnny, “You’re in big trouble now.”

“Oh, please,” Johnny says, “it’s not like she’s the president. I needed to stop her flight, and I did so effectively.”

“You crashed my plane,” the pilot argues.

“You drove off the runway and got a little grass in your tires. Hardly a crash. Besides,” Johnny says, gesturing toward me, “she’s the one they should arrest.”

“Why me?” I ask.

“Because you left your friends with no explanation and weren’t answering your phone. No one knew where you went.”

“How did you find me then?”

“I called the First Lady.”

“You know her?” I really shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.

“Whose gems do you think she wore to the inaugural ball?” he replies, using the kind of tone that tells me I’m an idiot for asking.

“Yours, I suppose?”

At this point, airport security boards the plane. And I know I’ll never be allowed to fly with this company again.

“Is everyone all right?” the man asks.

“All right?” the pilot screeches and points toward Johnny. “This idiot landed his stupid helicopter in front of our plane. As we were taking off!”

“Technically, it was not me,” Johnny says calmly. “It was my pilot.”

“How old are you?” the guy asks Johnny.

“Sixteen,” he replies.

The flight attendant looks at me, her eyes wide, and says, “How old are you?”

“Um, sixteen,” I admit.

“But I—” she starts to say, then must realize what she’s about to admit. She clamps her mouth shut, probably worried she could get in trouble for the champagne.

“Let me explain,” Johnny says, getting out his wallet. “I need to take Arrington, the girlfriend of His Royal Highness Prince Augustus of England, to my yacht, where the prince is waiting for her arrival.”

The pilot looks at me, not convinced. “Do you want to go with him?”

I look at Johnny and shake my head. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

“Yeah, you do, Sparkles.”

When he calls me that,

 I completely lose it.

I’ve been holding it together since I left school, but I can’t anymore. I’m talking ugly crying—big tears that won’t stop, snotty nose, hiccupping, helpless and hopeless crying.

No one is quite sure what to do with me, but they must allow Johnny to move because the next thing I know, he wraps his arms around me in a hug and starts whispering to me.

“We’re soulmates, Arrington. Don’t ever leave me like that again. Especially without a fucking word. What were you thinking?”

“About … surviving.”

“You promised to support your friend when he meets his grandparents, which is the real reason I don’t understand the situation we are in now. Tell me what happened.”

“Dean’s office,” I stutter out.

“I know that part.”

“Branson. Hate. Leave.” My words are disjointed, I know, but it’s the best I can do right now.

He nods like he understands. “It will be okay,” he says, then holds me out at arm’s length. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Can you take me back in time?” I pull in a cleansing breath and let it out with a big whoosh, calming myself down a little.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Will you take me home then?”

He softens. “If that’s truly where you want to go, yes.”

I look at him and shake my head, not even believing he just did what he did. And knowing I absolutely was wrong to leave school without a word. But I really was reacting on pure instinct.

I stutter out a weak apology to the flight crew while Johnny starts handing out wads of cash for their trouble and then grabs my backpack and escorts me to his helicopter.

“How did you even find me?” I ask him as we take our seats.

“Credit card use, cell phone tracking—”

“But I turned my phone off.”

“Arrington, if you are ever truly on the run, you must rid yourself of your phone and use nothing but cash or uncut diamonds for spending money.”

He’s so completely serious that it causes me to burst out in laughter. My emotions are literally everywhere, but I say, “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Now, tell me what happened.”

I take a deep breath. “The counselor asked us questions. Branson refused to answer, so I didn’t say anything either. Once she gave up and left, I asked him if he hated me because I made out with Beckham on 

New Year’s Eve. I have desperately been trying to figure out what happened. What went wrong with our friendship. And I started wondering if it was all my fault.” I fill him in on what happened, then say, “And the crazy thing is, when I asked him that, he answered. And he looked and sounded like my former best friend. Told me he was stupid for getting mad at me that night. Said that it was all on him. We talked about how our midnight kiss was magical.”

“Sounds like a relationship destined for failure,” the flight attendant says.

Johnny gives her a stern look, causing her to quickly retreat.

I mortifyingly realize the small crew has probably been listening to every word I said.

I cover my face with my palm.

Johnny touches my hand, so I slide it down and look at him. He motions for me to keep going, so I do, my voice now a whisper.

“I asked him what I did wrong. Why he’s so mad at me. I called him Brannie, which is what I’d called him when we were kids. And when I did that, his whole demeanor changed. He got this look of hatred on his face and told me that he didn’t call me when I left for London because he was happy that I was gone. And that he wished I hadn’t come to Eastbrooke.”

“After the Hamptons, did you run off and hop on a plane, like you just did now?” Johnny asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

I shrug my shoulders. “What I did was run to my room and call my parents to tell them that I changed my mind and was going to do the internship in London. But what really made me snap was when Branson told me that he wished he could get me out of his school and out of his life. He said it with so much force, so much venom, that he might as well have hit me because that’s what it felt like.”

“So, you’ve made up your mind? You’re not going back?”

“I can’t, Johnny. Once I got home, I swear, I would have called you. I’m sorry if you were worried.”

“I forgive you,” he says. “Now, shall we head out to sea and to Augie, who deserves to know what’s going on, or should we go to the airport, where my private jet awaits to take us to California?”

“Us? But you have your party.”

Johnny waves his hand. “I’ll postpone it.”

“But you made so many plans,” I counter.

“You should have thought of that before you left school,” he says sternly.

I let out a sigh. “Does Augie hate me now?”

“To be honest, the First Lady wasn’t as much help as I anticipated. So, Augie got the RAF involved.”

“As in the Royal Air

Force?” I ask, my eyes going wide.

“Yes, he would have come with me, but I’d already dropped him and his security detail at the boat and was heading back to campus to pick up the rest of our guests when I was diverted here.”

“Does everyone know what I did?” I wonder, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Only my crew, Augie, the First Lady, and the RAF.”

“So, no one really?” I say, rolling my eyes. “Let’s go to your boat. I need to apologize to Augie.”

“And?” Johnny asks.

“And what?”

“He said you told him that you wouldn’t ghost him again, that you’d figure it out together.”

“That’s the reason I need to go.”

“It’d better not be the only reason,” Johnny warns.

“If Augie doesn’t hate me, then I agree to spend the weekend. I just can’t go back to Eastbrooke.”

Johnny touches my arm and looks into my eyes. “If you don’t go back, I’m not either.”

“Johnny! You love it there!”

“So do you,” he says seriously. “And so does Augie.”

I suck in a deep breath as panic fills me. Because I can’t go back.

I really, really can’t.

 

 

 

So freaking sexy.

12:45pm

 

 

The second we get off the helicopter and step onto the yacht, a makeup artist is there, beauty tools in hand, ready to glam me up.

When I lift my head to look at her, she goes, “Oh. My.”

She looks at her brush, which is now obviously inadequate. “This one’s going to need some serious help.”

“We’ll worry about makeup for photos later,” Johnny orders.

The woman takes a makeup wipe out of a pouch wrapped around her waist and hands it to me.

I run it under my eyes, then give it back. “Better?”

“Somewhat,” she says, but it doesn’t matter because Johnny drags me down from the helipad to the main salon.

When the door parts for us, I see Augie standing there.

I cover my mouth

with my hand, suck in a breath, and hold it.

I can tell Augie’s mad, just like Johnny is, but he reaches toward me and takes a step in my direction.

I take that as a good sign. Maybe he doesn’t completely hate me.

“Why don’t you two go have a conversation in Arrington’s stateroom?” Johnny suggests. “I need to get back to Eastbrooke to pick up the rest of our guests.”

 

Augie takes my hand, and I follow him through the boat and into a beautiful room. I can see the designer clothes I tried on hanging in the closet, which means this is my suite.

“You’re in trouble with me again,” Augie says, pushing his hand back through his hair in frustration, messing it up and making him look like he did after lacrosse practice yesterday.

So freaking sexy.

I know I was stupid for leaving. I know that I should have run to him instead of away. I’m going to tell him that when his gaze locks with mine and I am forced to stare into his beautiful blue eyes.

“I have one question for you, Arrington,” he says softly. “Do you love me?”

My breath falters, and I can’t speak. I just bob my head up and down as tears fill my eyes. All the hurt I felt earlier rises back to the surface, but I rush toward him. And when he pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tightly, I feel like I’m clinging to him for life.

I want to tell him that I’m broken. That he shouldn’t want to be with me.

But I can’t bring myself to do it.

“I’m sorry. I was upset, Augie. I just wanted to go home. I love you,” I stutter out. “I just had to—”

“That’s all I need to know,” he says as his lips crash into mine in a possessive kiss. His tongue thrusts into my mouth with force, causing my whole body to tingle.

I instantly heat up, grabbing his tongue with mine and sucking it hard, while a crazy wildfire burns out of control inside me.

I pull on the front of his shirt, trying to undo the buttons, because his shirt needs to be gone.

Now.

I fumble with the buttons as we’re kissing.

Finally, I give up and just pull the shirt apart, ripping the buttons off in the process. When my palms land on his bare chest with a thud, I move my lips away from his to suck my way down his neck.

But it’s still not enough.

Which is how I find myself unbuttoning his pants, quickly undoing his zipper, and then shoving my hand down his backside, causing his pants to fall to the ground.

He takes a step forward, somehow removing his shoe and pant leg in the process, then takes another step and walks out of them, leaving them on the floor behind us. He pulls my shirt up over my head and tosses it away, quickly making fast work of my skirt before pushing me back on the bed.

He’s standing over me now, completely naked. Our eyes are locked. I give him a little nod, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

The second I do, he grabs the sides of my underwear and strips them off me.

I let out a little squeal as he drops to his knees and trails kisses up my thigh. And although it feels really nice, it’s not what I want.

“Come here,” I say, guiding him upward so that he’s lying on top of me. “I want to. Now,” I say, instantly sure.

He gives me another possessive kiss. One that pushes my head back into the luxurious sheets, and then we …

Well, we do exactly what I told him I wanted to do this weekend.

 

Afterward, I’m lying in his arms, my thoughts only on him. On what just transpired between us.

“I’ve been having a lot of daydreams about what it would be like when we finally did, but I didn’t imagine it like this,” I admit.

“It was nothing like mine either,” he says.

“Better, right?”

“Way better,” he says, snuggling me into his chest. “We do need to talk though.”

“But not now,” I tell him.

“No, not now.” He kisses my forehead.

I let out a laugh.

“Are you supposed to laugh after sex?” he asks.

“It’s better than crying after,” I tease, planting a kiss on his chest.

“True,” he says, but he sounds tentative.

I lean up on my elbow and look him in the eye. “I’m laughing because I spent a lot of time thinking about this moment between us. Well, really, more like I was worried about it. I shouldn’t have. It was—”

“Hot,” Augie says, grinning.

“It was. And emotionally charged. I never felt awkward or nervous. It just felt …right.” I lean down and kiss him. “Thank you for not giving up on me. Again.”

“Not a chance,” he says as the unmistakable sound of a chopper fills the air.

“Shit. Johnny’s back with everyone. And he’ll want to get the party started.”

“I think we started it,” Augie says with a sexy smirk.

“We definitely did, but still, we have to get dressed. ...