Paradise Road

Book 0: The Paradise Series

by C.J. Duggan

Genres: Romance; Romance Anthologies & Collections; Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance

Synopsis

From the author of the bestselling Summer series, comes a sexy Australian new-adult romance full of sun, surf and steamy summer nights. For fans of Abbi Glines, Sarah Dessen and Colleen Hoover. Readers are raving about C.J. Duggan's Paradise City : 'I loved every moment . . . C.J. is a born storyteller that breathes a realism into her characters and situations that we've all found ourselves in.' - Diva Book Nerd 'Duggan's writing is addictive, and I really didn't want to put this book down.' - Escape Into Words ' Paradise City is the same brand of feel good, fun and sexy romance that I have come to love from this author' - Book Briefs 'I love Duggan's writing and Paradise City was a hoot. I cannot wait for the next book! Is it August yet?' - Reading With ABC 'I loved this book - it's the perfect beach read.' - Flying Through Pages ' Paradise City is going to be on my mind until I can get my greedy eyes on Paradise Road. I need that book yesterday!' - Book Cat Pin 'A fast paced fun read with so many steamy situations.' - Dreamy Addictions 'Guaranteed her readers will come back for more.' - My Guilty Obsession 'Drama, deception, love and a little mystery . . . the ending left me hungry for the next book! I can't wait for Paradise Road!' - Paranormal Tendencies on Goodreads 'A bit of Home and Away meets Puberty Blues feel about the novel makes is a great read for older teens and YA. I will be desperately waiting for part 2 in September.' - Samantha on Goodreads 'Again Ms Duggan had created a winner. Paradise City was a perfect introduction to the series and characters. I was left needing more and it had so much laugh-out-loud fun. This really did have everything from intrigue to addiction, realism of high school antics, steamy sizzles and fast paced readability. I am certainly hooked and desperately want more of all these characters. I highly recommend this to all new adult readers, fan-bloody-tastic!' - Turner's Antics 'This is my first taste of Duggan's work and it won't be the last ... It's a story that will have you coming back for more.' - Sassy Book Lovers 'convincing and authentic ... Perfect for fans of Abbi Glines and Anna Todd, Paradise City is a fun and exciting read about love, family and surviving high school.' - Fictional Thoughts The road back to Paradise was never going to be easy . . . After returning to Red Hill, Lexie Atkinson can't settle back into country life. She's missing the glitzy, gritty nightlife of the big city and the group of misfit friends she'd loved to hate. She knows that to move forward she has to go back - back to face the guy who stole her heart. When Lexie arrives in Paradise City to work out if her future includes bad-boy surfer Luke Ballantine, he is nowhere to be found. With no home, no money and no Luke, Lexie gets a job slinging drinks at the wild Wipe Out Bar, and, before long, broody bar owner Dean Saville starts taking an interest and stirs more than just her drinks. But nothing is ever as it seems in Paradise City and when Luke barrels back into town, Lexie has a choice to make. Someone's going to end up with a broken heart - will it be Luke, Dean . . . or Lexie?

Release date: November 22, 2015

Publisher: Hachette Australia

Print pages: 336

Sample

‘You’re not going back to Paradise.’

I remember it all so clearly. The words tumbled out of my mum’s mouth as if in slow motion. It was the equivalent of someone pulling the rug from underneath me. The violent, unexpected jolt of that one sentence had my head reeling with panicked thoughts: memories of sneaking out windows, driving in cars with hot surfer boys … of Ballantine’s head between my thighs on his couch.

Oh, my God, had they found out about all this? I wondered. Had my grades slipped so badly that this was the drastic solution? I quickly blinked and laughed nervously.

‘W– what?’

It had occurred to me that maybe my parents were just having a laugh. They did, on the odd occasion, try to be funny, but as I took in their serious stares I felt my world slipping away from me.

They were deadly serious.

The words that followed were nothing but white noise to me as I stood there gaping. From what I could gather, Uncle Peter had scored his dream job up north and was relocating his family from Paradise. They would rent out their home to another family, effectively leaving me homeless and unable to finish my Year Twelve at Paradise High. There was really no delicate, non-diva-like way to put it – I was devastated.

The weeks that followed weren’t pretty; in fact, there is a significant amount of cringing I do merely thinking about it. The festive season came and went in a blur. Awake all night, asleep all day: in many ways I was your typical teenager. I lay in bed, curtains drawn, buried in a cocoon of despair – pretty standard stuff. I was like one of those tragic heroines from a Jane Austen novel, staring across the field, sobbing in the rain.

Ballantine, Ballantine.

It was rock bottom. And what was worse, I couldn’t even call him to make it right. Trust me, I’d tried. I lasted all of two weeks in Red Hole before I dialled his digits, but there was no answer. And when I tried again a few days later it said his phone was unavailable. I’d obviously been dumped.

Welcome to Pity Town! Population: me.

I spent far too much time sitting in my darkened room wearing elastic-waisted tracksuit pants, a sloppy t-shirt, no makeup and my hair swept up on top of my head like a bird’s nest. My desk was littered with fun-sized Snickers wrappers and countless packets of Starbursts. Any time there was a knock on my door, and a slither of light peeped through, I avoided the instinct to scurry into the furthest corner of my room and hiss at the intruder, which was usually my mum bringing in a tray of something not saturated in sugar for me to eat.

Dad just kept out of my way – like, literally. He would see me storming down the hall and do a complete about-face like a frightened villager escaping a natural disaster. There were days when it was his duty to make sure I was kept alive, so on one occasion he knocked on my door and opened it a crack. I quickly reduced the window on my computer and snapped my head around. My hooded eyes glowered at a tray sliding into my room, shifting its way across the floor with the aid of a broomstick handle.

A small smile curved the corner of my mouth at my dad’s not-too-subtle joke. ‘Very funny,’ I called out.

The broom simply retreated and the door closed. It was at that point that I started toying with the idea of getting my shit together.

The next day there was a knock on my bedroom door. I didn’t answer, hoping that whoever it was would take it as a signal to leave. But the door opened and the aroma of mouth-watering roast chicken with rosemary and garlicky goodness hit me hard. I recognised it for exactly what it was: Mum cooking my favourite meal as a bid to lure me out of my cave. My stomach rumbled. Someone switched on the light, causing me to flinch. I had been staring at the computer screen so intently and for so long I hadn’t even realised that the sun had gone down. I was still mad, mad as hell, and I swivelled in my chair like a villain, arching my brow with an air of ‘Yes, can I help you?’

‘G’day, Smudge!’

Oh sweet Jesus.

My Uncle Eddie stood in the doorway dressed in his Sunday best (even though it wasn’t Sunday). He wore a powder blue ’70s-style safari suit, acquired, no doubt, from one of his op shop sprees. He nodded his head out to the hallway. ‘Carn, Smudge, your mum says grub’s up.’

I cringed at every mention of my childhood nickname, which Uncle Eddie had come up with after a messy Vegemite-sandwich-eating incident when I was about three years old.

I dragged my feet to the table, took a seat next to Dad’s brother, and began to eat. Damn, it tasted good.

‘So, Smudge, how did you like the big smoke?’ Uncle Eddie finally broke the uncomfortable silence, speaking with his mouth full and a dribble of gravy running down his chin.

I grinned past the pain of watching him eat like a caveman. Flicking a knowing look to my parents, I straightened in my seat, cutting into my chicken. ‘It was amazing: made lots of friends, learned so much in school, everyone was really nice.’

Uncle Eddie nodded. For all of my uncle’s mortifying public displays, he was at least interested in what I had to say.

‘So when does school start up?’ he asked, wiping up the excess gravy off his plate with a piece of bread.

‘As in, when am I going back?’

I could feel my parents’ eyes boring into me, although I made a point of not looking at them.

I sighed, stabbing my piece of pumpkin. ‘Apparently I’m not.’

‘What? Not go back?’ Uncle Eddie yelled, outraged. You had to hand it to Uncle Eddie. He knew how to create a scene. What a legend.

‘I know, right?’ I gave him my best look of despair.

Eddie turned to my dad. ‘What’s the go, Rick? You heard the girl, she loved it.’

‘Stay out of it, Eddie,’ Dad warned wearily.

‘Pfft, I’m the head of the table, ol’ mate, and I demand to know why my niece is on the verge of tears.’

Mum took this as a cue to start clearing the table, even though I wasn’t finished. ‘Blame my brother-in-law, Eddie,’ she said. ‘He’s moving the family up north for a new job.’

Uncle Eddie looked lost in thought as he dug a toothpick between his teeth, foraging around for leftovers. Ew. His eyes darted from my dad to me and back again. He shrugged casually. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

Dad rolled his eyes. ‘Lexie was supposed to be staying with Jen’s sister.’

It took a moment for that to sink in. He looked resigned to the fact that my situation was impossible. ‘Well, Jen, that was an absolute triumph, what’s for dessert?’

Mum smiled, relieved the subject of conversation had changed. She brought over a piece of mango cheesecake to a very appreciative Uncle Eddie. ‘Lexie, did you want some, luv?’

I moved to stand. ‘No, thanks, I think I might just call it a night.’

I made it halfway across the room when Uncle Eddie’s voice rang out. ‘Hey, Smudge, how old are you?’

I paused in the doorway, turning to see him shovel a fork of creamy mush into his face.

‘You’re, like, nineteen?’

‘Seventeen,’ I corrected him. ‘Well, eighteen on the eighteenth, actually.’

‘This month?’

I shrugged. ‘Yeah.’

My dad’s head shifted from me to Uncle Eddie, uncertain where this was going.

‘Well,’ Uncle Eddie said, licking each of his fingers clean of cream, popping one at a time from his mouth with satisfaction, ‘I don’t want to state the obvious, but why do you need Jen’s sister? Surely you’re old enough to get your own place; I mean, you’re of age, and from what I can tell, you take after your mother in the brains department, so what’s the problem?’ Uncle Eddie lifted his hands, palms up, as if it was an obvious no-brainer.

My eyes widened, looking at my uncle, who, most of the time, embarrassed the hell out of me and seriously grossed me out, but who, right now, left me in complete awe of his genius.

Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

Trying to contain my excitement, I glanced hopefully at Dad, who had closed his eyes, and then at Mum, who stood frozen in the kitchen wielding a spatula, as if battering Uncle Eddie to death was a real temptation.

‘Well, no need to thank me. Great dinner, Jen, as always.’ Uncle Eddie belched as he stood from the table. ‘Best call it a night. Good luck with your new venture, kiddo,’ he said, rubbing my head on the way past. He paused at the screen door, looking back and shaking his head. ‘Oh, to be eighteen again.’

Silence loomed in the wake of Uncle Eddie’s departure and genius suggestion: awkward, hear-a-pin-drop silence. It took everything in my power not to look happy or smug. I remained calm and cool and innocently shifted my gaze towards my dad, who, before I could even utter a word, shook his head and said, ‘No! Absolutely not.’

And that’s when the silence ended and all hell broke loose.

‘What do you mean, no? You didn’t even give me a chance to speak.’

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he scoffed.

‘Oh, right, I forgot you have become really adept at reading my mind lately.’

‘Lexie, don’t go running wild with any ideas that Eddie has. They’re not exactly based in reality most of the time,’ added Mum, certain I would laugh, roll my eyes and agree. And, yes, under any other circumstance I would have, but not this time.

‘On the contrary; I have never heard anything simpler, or more perfect.’ I replied.

‘Oh, right, and where are you going to stay, and how are you going to afford to live? I suppose that’s where we come into this grand scheme of yours.’

‘I don’t know. I’ll get a job, find a cheap place to stay. I can figure it out.’

My mind was reeling, and the excitement in me built. This could happen, this could really happen. On January eighteenth I would be an adult and I could do what I liked, and if that meant taking a bus and two trains back to Paradise, then so be it.

A small smile broke across my face, and it was the worst thing I could have possibly done. Dad got up from the table and stalked out of the room towards his man cave.

Mum came to stand next to me. There was no rage, only sadness. ‘You really want this?’

Hope grew inside me. ‘More than anything.’

Mum’s lips pressed together in a thin line, as her eyes darted across my face, taking in the pleading depths of my eyes.

‘Mum, please. I have to grow up some time.’

She glanced at the closed door of Dad’s man cave, before looking back at me. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

My lungs filled with air. I was ready to explode in jubilant squeals.

‘There will be rules.’

‘Yes, yes,’ I said, trying to control my excitement.

‘You’ll have to find a job.’

‘Done.’

‘A place to stay.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And you will have to behave.’

I swallowed, smiling sweetly, trying my best not to flinch. ‘Of course I will.’

Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

My bag dropped to the floor, along with my jaw.

I stepped back out of the doorway, wondering if I had entered the wrong room. No, this was definitely the right room, although I would never have guessed it. Gone were the Blink 182 posters, gone was the dressing table crammed with nail polishes, Impulse cans and Lip Smackers. And instead there was a queen-size bed (the one bed – seriously, where was my bed?) with a tasteful cream-coloured cover and tasteful scatter cushions, and two new matching bedside tables with matching lamps. Where was I supposed to fit in with all this?

‘What do you think?’

Aunty Karen’s voice near my ear caused me to jump. How had I not heard her shoes, I thought, glancing down at her bare feet and polished ruby red manicured toes?

‘It’s different,’ I said, my eyes roaming and settling on the big aluminium window with sliding glass, the very one that I used to sneak out of, the very one I had followed Ballantine out. A pang of nostalgia hit me, but then looking around at the unrecognisable space only cemented how things had changed; even in such a short space of time, life had gone from familiar to the unknown.

Aunty Karen walked in, swiping her hand across an invisible wrinkle on the bedspread before fluffing up the already perfect cushions.

‘We thought we’d make the bedrooms more comfortable, more user-friendly, for the new tenants. They’re Dutch, you know?’ Aunty Karen looked at me as if their nationality should mean something to me.

‘Oh, right.’ I nodded, feigning interest.

I wonder what Amanda had to say about this.

‘So am I not sleeping in here, or –’

‘Oh, you girls will have to sleep together; we haven’t painted Gus’s room yet.’

Whaaaaat? Me and Amanda sleeping in the same bed? We could barely stand being in the same room as each other.

‘It’s just until you sort out your accommodation arrangements.’ Aunty Karen smiled, patting my cheek as she left the room.

The way Aunty Karen had said ‘until you sort out your accommodation’ suddenly had me feeling very alone. Mum said Aunty Karen would help me find a job and a room, but I started to feel like I was in the way here, that I was just an additional complication they didn’t need right now.

•

I was afraid to unpack. Even having my new mobile on charge in this crisp white room looked unseemly and out of place. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do without getting in the way or making a mess. Aunty Karen didn’t say as much, but her thin smile said it all when I pulled out a stool at the kitchen island and placed my elbows on the marble top.

‘Um, I think I might go for a walk,’ I said.

‘Good idea! Go stretch your legs,’ Aunty Karen said with enthusiasm, as she scrubbed at an invisible mark on the countertop.

I slid off my chair, making sure to place it back in perfect alignment with the others, even though I was certain that Aunty Karen would wipe any evidence of me having sat there away with her cloth.

‘Okay, back soon,’ I said, making my way out of the kitchen, half expecting a ‘Don’t be long’ or ‘Be back before dark’ but there was nothing except the distant sound of a Dustbuster whizzing to life as I closed the door behind me.

•

I walked into a darkened room; the loud animated beeps and pangs rang out from the television screen, followed by a smattering of gunfire as James Bond successfully warded off a series of would-be assassins.

My eyes shifted from the screen to a figure slumped in a beanbag, stubble lining his jaw, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and empty bowls by his side of what looked like day-old Weeties.

I turned to Laura, raising my eyebrows in a question.

‘Amanda and Boon broke up,’ she whispered so low I almost missed her words. I blinked as what she said slowly registered in my mind.

Holy crap! Amanda and Boon were no longer?

I wanted to press her for more information but my rampant thoughts were cut off by Laura’s voice.

‘Boon, look who’s here; Lexie’s back!’ Laura yelled over another burst of gunfire.

‘Hey,’ he managed, unblinking, eyes fixed firmly on the television.

He looked awful, soulless, like a heartbroken zombie. Just like I did when I returned to Red Hill.

This is what heartbreak looks like.

‘Come on, I think you’ve seen enough,’ sighed Laura, leading the way to her bedroom.

‘Poor Boon,’ I said. I understood what he was going through. If this is what he looked like I really didn’t want to see Amanda.

‘Oh, fuck Boon, he’s being ridiculous.’

My head snapped around. I’d never heard Laura swear. Coming from the little pint-size slip of a creature, it didn’t seem right. She opened the door to her bedroom, which was in stark contrast to the darkness we left in the lounge. Flooded by natural light, and painted a cheery light yellow, her bedroom had a really cool series of white floor-to-ceiling bookshelves her dad had built her. Her room really represented her: bright and sunny – well, except for right now.

‘Ugh, he is driving me nuts,’ she said, flinging herself onto her bed. ‘It’s just so, so –’

Awful, sad, heart wrenching …

‘Pathetic,’ she said, shaking her head.

I laughed, trying to lighten the mood a little. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I really feel for him, it must be hard.’

‘Seriously, though, he needs to just get over it, it’s just becoming tragic.’

I could feel the hair rise on the back of my neck at the mention of that word. It was how Amanda had once described me.

‘He needs to just man up. I mean, look at you. Ballantine didn’t even come and say goodbye and I don’t see you moping about, you’ve got over it.’

Okay, now I was getting mad.

I wasn’t over it. I took a deep, calming breath. With the mood Laura was in and her stance on the subject I really didn’t feel like arguing the point with her.

I had come here for answers; Lord knows I had a million questions, even more so since hearing about Amanda and Boon. It felt like everything had changed. I took a steadying breath, preparing to launch into them, to ask about Ballantine, and Amanda and Boon, when her words interrupted my thoughts.

‘So, have you found somewhere to stay?’ she asked. ‘I did ask Mum about you staying here.’

My eyes snapped up; I straightened in my chair. ‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, she said no,’ she said matter-of-factly – typical blunt Laura. ‘But she wondered if you’d tried any of the teachers? Sometimes they put up foreign exchange students. Principal Fitzgibbons and his family put up Fabrizio from Italy last year.’

I burst out laughing until I caught the confused look on Laura’s face. ‘Oh God, you were serious?’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers, Lexie. Dad said boarding anywhere in Paradise is really expensive and all the good places are taken.’

This was something that I had feared, but as far as shacking up with Mr Fitzgibbons, the balding, bowtie wearing principal of Paradise High and his family, was concerned, that was not going to happen. I would sooner go back to Red Hole and die from a broken heart.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to come over tonight?’

I dragged my feet down the hall.

‘What, and spoon with you and Amanda? No, thanks,’ laughed Laura.

‘We could crash in the lounge or something.’

‘Considering the circumstances,’ Laura nodded her head towards Boon, who still hadn’t moved from his beanbag, ‘it’s probably not a good idea.’

What? Oh, now she was thinking of her brother? Puh-lease.

I shrugged. ‘Whatever; you’re a terrible friend.’

Laura laughed. ‘Piss off.’

‘I don’t approve of your language, Laura. You’ve changed.’

We made our way through the dim lounge room. ‘Boon, Lexie’s leaving now.’ Laura yelled it out as though she was talking to a deaf, senile old lady.

Boon raised his hand in acknowledgment.

And then I remembered the day Mum had charged into my room when I was in the depths of despair, ripped the blankets off me and demanded I move, waking me out of my self-indulgent stupor. It didn’t solve all my problems, but at least it had gotten me out of the house and doing something: mani, pedi and shopping. I looked at Boon, thinking, okay, I wouldn’t exactly recommend taking him to get a makeover, but I could surely try Mum’s method.

Laura hovered in the doorway waiting to walk me out but instead of joining her I marched straight towards Boon, ripped the game controller from his hands and moved to turn the TV off.

‘Hey, what the fuck?’ he spat out.

‘Up!’ I said in my best motherly, take-no-shit voice.

‘What?’

‘Shut up! You are giving me a lift,’ I said, as if it wasn’t up for negotiation.

Boon blinked, his face full of thunder as if seeing me for the first time. He scoffed. ‘I’m not taking you anywhere.’

‘Yes, you are and you’re even going to have a shower before you do, so hurry the fuck up,’ I said loudly.

Okay, so Mum would never have said that to me in a million years. Still, this was a stubborn, heartbroken boy. I needed to be ruthless.

Boon sat there, glowering at me for so long I thought we were in a staring competition, and for pride’s sake I really didn’t want to lose. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to budge and I would have to leave him wallowing in self-pity, he moved. The beanbag rustled and he slowly pulled himself to stand as elegantly as you possibly could out of a beanbag. He stood before me, intimidatingly close, his eyes burning into mine.

‘Who are you? And what have you done with that mousey farm girl Lexie Atkinson?’ he asked, his serious eyes ticking over my face as if I were a stranger.

A small smile kinked the corner of my mouth. ‘You know what, Boon, you just gave me the compliment of my life.’

Boon’s hardness melted, only a little, but I saw it. ‘I think I liked the old Lexie better,’ he mumbled, running his hands through his dishevelled hair and looking at the scattered rubbish around his beanbag as if seeing it for the first time. He shuffled out of the lounge to (I hoped) have a shower before giving me a lift back to Aunty Karen’s.

‘And have a shave,’ I yelled out after him.

He scoffed. ‘Don’t push your bloody luck,’ he said before slamming the bathroom door behind him.

I smiled.

Laura moved to stand beside me. ‘What did you just do?’ She looked at me in amazement. ‘Seriously, how?’

‘Sometimes people just need a bit of tough love,’ I said.

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve been giving him plenty of tough love.’

‘Sometimes, though, there is a difference between giving tough love and –’

‘I know, I know, being compassionate.’ Laura cut me off, rolling her eyes.

‘Actually, I was going to say “being an arsehole”.’

Laura did a double-take. ‘Are you calling me an arsehole, Lexie?’

Without acknowledging the question, I just grinned. ‘Tell Boon I’ll be out by the car.’

•

Not wanting to rub salt into the wound I had Boon drop me off at the Black Cat Café, only a few blocks from the house. The last thing he needed was a potential run-in with Amanda.

I sat in a booth opposite him, wincing at the rate he was scoffing his triple-chocolate sundae.

‘You’re going to get a brain freeze at that rate,’ I warned.

‘Isn’t this the point where you joke about me not having a brain?’ He looked up with a cheeky chocolatey grin. It was a good thing to see a hint of the old Boon.

‘Don’t tempt me.’ I laughed, sipping on my iced coffee.

We had driven there in silence, ordered and sat down with the awkwardness of a blind date. But all that had melted away the second the ice-cream arrived. There was something truly magical about ice-cream.

Much to Boon’s credit he hadn’t mentioned Amanda once, didn’t ask me awkward questions even though he knew that I was living under the same roof as her and would be privy to inside information. I was glad he hadn’t but then I desperately wanted to ask about Ballantine. Oh screw it, I thought, I couldn’t keep tiptoeing around the subject. Better to go straight to the source: Ballantine’s best friend?

I stirred the cream through my drink, psyching myself up. Had he mentioned me? Missed me? Partied hard without a care and bedded some random girl for the rebound? I felt sick. I pushed away my drink, ready to ask the question, the question I had been too afraid to ask Laura.

‘Hey, Boon, can I ask you something?’

Boon scooped up the last of the chocolate syrup from his glass sundae boat. ‘I guess,’ he shrugged.

I cleared my throat, rubbing away the condensation from my glass. ‘How’s Ball. . .