Blurb:
Nova Reed used to have dreams-of becoming a famous drummer, of marrying her true love. But all of that was taken away in an instant. Now she's getting by as best she can, though sometimes that means doing things the old Nova would never do. Things that are slowly eating away at her spirit. Every day blends into the next . . . until she meets Quinton Carter. His intense, honey brown eyes instantly draw her in, and he looks just about as broken as she feels inside.Quinton once got a second chance at life-but he doesn't want it. The tattoos on his chest are a constant reminder of what he's done, what he's lost. He's sworn to never allow happiness into his life . . . but then beautiful, sweet Nova makes him smile. He knows he's too damaged to get close to her, yet she's the only one who can make him feel alive again. Quinton will have to decide: does he deserve to start over? Or should he pay for his past forever?
Excerpt:
I
sit there for a while, drinking in her words. I get caught up in it all—in
her—and suddenly I’m pressing my lips against hers. I’ve done this a lot
before, as a way to distract myself from my life. But this isn’t the same. This
means something, but I’m still trying to figure out what and if I want
it or even deserve to get it.
At
first she stiffens, but then she hooks her arms around the back of my neck and
inches closer, opening her mouth to me as she spreads her legs open and my hands
travel higher toward the bottom of her shorts. She tastes like beer and smells
like pot. Tristan’s gone but he could come back at any moment. I should stop
this. I should care enough to stop Tristan from seeing this, but my will to
care about doing the right thing at this moment has died. My thoughts are
blurred by the lingering high and the scent and feel of Nova. All I seem to
care about is caressing her tongue with mine and feeling her skin because it’s
soft and soothing and in another life I’d touch it all the time.
I’m
about to pull away, because emotions are prickling inside me, when she swings
her leg over me so she’s straddling my lap, then she grips the sides of my neck
and pulls me closer. She kisses me fiercely, to the point where it feels like
my lips are going to bruise, then she’s crushing her chest against mine as she
gently rocks her hips. I dig my fingers into her waist, bringing her even
closer, before I push her back, breaking the connection of our lips.
She’s
panting, wild-eyed, her hair falling out of the braid. She glances to the side
at Tristan’s empty chair and then looks back at me.
“We
should stop,” I say, but it sounds like a lame attempt, my voice drifting off
at the end.
“W-why?”
She stutters a protest and I have to admit that it’s nice there are no tears in
her eyes. “I don’t want to.”
I
brush her hair back from her eyes and let my fingers linger on the bruise on
her cheek. “You don’t even know me, Nova. I’m no good for you… you deserve so
much better.” Please run away. Because I can’t seem to do it myself.
Her
jaw tenses, like I struck a nerve. “I think I should get to decide that.”
“Whether
I’m good enough for you?” I ask.
“Yeah,
which I can only decide if I get to know you,” she says.
I
motion my hand in front of myself, pressing the point. “This is pretty much it.
What you see is what you get.”
“That’s
never the case,” she disagrees, flattening her palms onto my bare chest right
over the scar and my body goes rigid. “In fact, most of the time people hide
who they really are.” Her throat bobs up and down as she swallows hard. “Most
of the time you think you know someone, but you really have no clue.”
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About the author:
Jessica Sorensen is a #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives with her husband and three kids in Idaho. When she's not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.
Social Media Links:
http://www.rafflecopter.
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