ABOUT SEA BREEZE: Jordan has never been in love, or been anywhere. Trapped in Vegas, she schleps drinks and dodges losers, while suffering under a burden only she can shoulder. Her life is an endless stretch of blah with no escape.
Instead of looking back, she’s sailing forward.
Eric has left his family and friends in San Francisco to travel the world, tending bar on a cruise ship to fund his adventures. He can charm any coed who comes aboard, but Jordan sees right through him.
On the blue cobblestone streets of San Juan, everything changes. Food. Music. Exotic locations. Possibilities. Setting out to discover the world, will Jordan discover herself?
Sometimes, adventure can set you free…
We make a little picnic on the grass, finding a place under the shade of a tree, and Eric
takes his button-down off for us to sit on, leaving him in only his undershirt. My, oh my, the man
has some nice shoulders.
He hands me a can of Medalla Light, this one a lot colder than the one I had earlier today,
and we dig in.
“Oh my Lord, what are these called again?”
He holds up a finger and finishes his mouthful before answering. “Alcapurria.”
“So good.” I take another bite of the fried fritter meaty goodness as Eric takes a sip of his
“What about the tostones? Do you like those? They’re pretty much a staple here. They
use plantains in a lot of cooking. The most famous dish is mofongo.”
I swallow a big bite of my savory pastry and respond. “Did we get any of that…mofongo
stuff?” I snag a couple of tostones, expecting sweet, given that they’re fried plantains, but they’re
“No. We didn’t get any mofongo because it’s more of a sit-down meal, in my opinion.”
“We are sitting down.”
“You know what I mean.” Eric takes another swig of his beer and rolls his shoulders.
“Yes, I like everything. At first, I thought the tostones were a little bland, but now I can’t
stop eating them.” I pop another in my mouth to make my point. “I guess I’ll try the mofongo
Eric frowns as I take a sip of beer. “You keep saying next time, but we aren’t going to
dock here again on this trip. You know that, right?”
“Yes. But I also know that I’ll come back to Puerto Rico. There’s too much to see and do,
not to come back.” I finish the last bite of my meat fritter, and survey the food we still have left.
Eric quiets, staring at his skewer. I pick up the last pincho and start biting off deliciously
grilled pieces of chicken.
“Do you have—” The sound of drums right behind us interrupts Eric and almost makes
me drop my chicken.
Three different drummers tap out a hypnotizing rhythm, and the man in the middle starts
to sing. At the sound of his voice I turn back toward Eric and smile. He grins, and nods in the
direction of the musicians. “Bomba.”
We both stand at the same time and gather our trash, placing it in the can a few feet away.
I fold the rest of the fried plantains up in a napkin and place them in my bag. We take our beers
around to the other side of the grass to watch and listen.
The call and answer of the drums and the man’s voice causes me to sway as I stand there
listening. A crowd gathers, and I’m completely captivated.
“We’re going to have to start heading back soon.” Eric’s voice in my ear gives rise to a
shudder that runs through me. Maybe it’s the heat and the beer, although I’ve only had two. Or
maybe it’s this music, almost spiritual, yet extremely sensual. Whatever it is, the sound of his
masculine voice in my ear makes my stomach flip.
I look up at him as the drummers continue their intoxicating rhythm. He stands so close
to me, his shirt slung over one shoulder. His focus is on the musicians, but when he takes a sip of
his beer, he catches me staring, and his hand lowers to his side.
Our gazes lock for exactly sixteen seconds, the drum beats keeping count. Sixteen
seconds of blood pumping through my veins. Sixteen seconds of his gaze scrutinizing mine and
then shifting down to my lips. Sixteen seconds of wondering what his chest would feel like
against my bare breasts.
“It’s getting late, Jordan.” It’s only a murmur, and there’s no way I should’ve heard him,
so I must be reading his lips. He has nice lips.
He breaks eye contact and looks out over my head. We’re surrounded by people. He
wraps his fingers around my forearm and gently tugs me behind him and through the crowd. My
other hand easily finds his back, and I use it as a guide to follow him out.
As we make our way down the crowded street, Eric pulls his cell out of his pocket to read
a text. “Shit. We need to hurry.”
I quicken my pace to keep up with him. “Why? We still have an hour before we have to
be on board.”
“Actually, I need to be back and ready for work in forty-five minutes. My boss wants me
to fill in at Allure tonight, and I still need to get back, shower, and change. Come on.” Eric holds
out his hand, and we push through the crowd.
I was born and raised in San Francisco, CA, and have a husband and two children. Music is an addiction. I can often be found in the car, singing along at the top of my lungs to whatever is playing. I work full time, and I split my spare time between family, reading, blogging, and writing. I’m a habitual quoter. Lines from films and TV shows constantly pop into my head—my kids are the only ones that really get it. I’m an only child, and so of course I married a man who is one of ten children. Other than English, I speak Spanish, Moroccan, and a little French. I love to travel, but don’t do enough of it. Reading has been a passion for most of my life and I now love writing. I’m klutz, and in my own mind, I’m hilarious.
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