"Help me . . ." These are the last words Chanetelle hears from her friend Ashley, in a static-filled phone call that soon goes dead. Their trip to the island paradise of Artula started the way any trip should, and soon Chanetelle and her friends find themselves in sun-drenched days and party-hopping nights. The vacation is not without its conflicts, however, and old rivalries and new jealousies come to light as the week passes. But no one expects things to turn as ugly as they do. No one expects that they won't all return. And no one expects that murder might be the ultimate souvenir. When Ashley disappears, the question is asked: Was it a random act of violence? Or is something more sinister going on? And is Ashley really dead, after all? With a breakneck pace and cat-and-mouse twists, Spring Break is the ultimate beach read.

Kayla Perrin is the author of twenty-two novels. She lives in Toronto, Canada. Please visit her at www.kaylaperrin.com

Prologue
PRIVATE NAME. Private number.
My heart began to accelerate, the response I’d had every time this week I’d seen those words on my caller ID. I quickly placed the cell phone to my ear, cautiously hopeful and sick with anxiety at the same time.
Please, let this be the call.
“Hello?” I said, then held my breath as I waited for a response. Scratchy static .lled the line, evidence of a bad connection. I strained to hear the person on the other end of the phone. And then, the faint sound of something on the other end of the line. A voice, a movement—I wasn’t sure.
“Hello?” I repeated. “Is someone there?”
“Chantelle . . .”
My back went rigid. I was certain now. Someone had whispered my name.
“Help . . . please.”
“Ashley?” Excitement washed over me in waves. The voice was faint, but it was female. It had to be her. “Ashley—is that you?”
“Help me . . .”
“Why are you whispering? Where are you? Who’s there with you?”
“I was stupid,” she went on, sobbing between her words. “This was . . . all a mistake. A stupid decision. And now . . .”
The rest of her words were drowned out by the static.
“Ashley? Ashley!”
When I heard more soft sobbing, I was relieved. For a moment, I thought the call had been disconnected.
“Ashley, we must have a bad connection. Can you speak up at all? Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. Or I’ll send someone.”
I strained to listen, hearing static and the faint sound of a voice. So faint I couldn’t make out the words.
“Ashley, please speak up.” Now I was crying. I was relieved, but terri.ed. I had to get to my friend. Save her. “Please tell me where you are.”
“I . . .” More crying. “I . . .”
My voice rose an octave as hysteria set in. “Where are you?” No answer. “Ashley? Ashley!”
The dial tone sounded in my ear.
The line was dead. And Ashley was gone.
Just like a ghost.

Excerpted from Spring Break by Kayla Perrin.
Copyright © 2010 by Kayla Perrin.
Published in March 2010 by St. Martin’s Press.
All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.

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Prologue
PRIVATE NAME. Private number.
My heart began to accelerate, the response I’d had every time this week I’d seen those words on my caller ID. I quickly placed the cell phone to my ear, cautiously hopeful and sick with anxiety at the same time.
Please, let this be the call.
“Hello?” I said, then held my breath as I waited for a response. Scratchy static .lled the line, evidence of a bad connection. I strained to hear the person on the other end of the phone. And then, the faint sound of something on the other end of the line. A voice, a movement—I wasn’t sure.
“Hello?” I repeated. “Is someone there?”
“Chantelle . . .”
My back went rigid. I was certain now. Someone had whispered my name.
“Help . . . please.”
“Ashley?” Excitement washed over me in waves. The voice was faint, but it was female. It had to be her. “Ashley—is that you?”
“Help me . . .”
“Why are you whispering? Where are you? Who’s there with you?”
“I was stupid,” she went on, sobbing between her words. “This was . . . all a mistake. A stupid decision. And now . . .”
The rest of her words were drowned out by the static.
“Ashley? Ashley!”
When I heard more soft sobbing, I was relieved. For a moment, I thought the call had been disconnected.
“Ashley, we must have a bad connection. Can you speak up at all? Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. Or I’ll send someone.”
I strained to listen, hearing static and the faint sound of a voice. So faint I couldn’t make out the words.
“Ashley, please speak up.” Now I was crying. I was relieved, but terri.ed. I had to get to my friend. Save her. “Please tell me where you are.”
“I . . .” More crying. “I . . .”
My voice rose an octave as hysteria set in. “Where are you?” No answer. “Ashley? Ashley!”
The dial tone sounded in my ear.
The line was dead. And Ashley was gone.
Just like a ghost.

Excerpted from Spring Break by Kayla Perrin.
Copyright © 2010 by Kayla Perrin.
Published in March 2010 by St. Martin’s Press.
All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.