- Main Characters: Nova Reed and Quinton Carter
- Genre: New Adult/ Contemporary Romance
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?
Grappling to breathe, I secure a finger underneath her chin, tip her face up, and press my lips to hers. She sucks in a sharp, stammering breath, then kisses me back like she’s been trapping her breath for ages and suddenly I’m supplying her with oxygen. I know I should pull back, but it’s been a long time since the emptiness inside me hasn’t been so hollow, and I find myself slipping my tongue into her mouth and kissing her back with way too much passion behind the kiss.
Things only get more intense when she traces her hand up the nape of my neck, then runs her fingers through my hair, drawing me closer, and the voice that’s haunted my head—the one telling me to stop— abruptly shuts up. I roll to my side, positioning my body over hers, lining us together, as I explore her mouth with my tongue. A few tears drip from my eyes and fall onto her cheeks, which are soaked with her own tears. She keeps gasping, pulling me closer, pressing her body against mine, like she needs me near her or she’ll die. Her legs circle my waist, and the dress she’s wearing slips up and her bare legs graze the outside of my jeans. My hands start to wander downward toward the bottom of her dress, wanting to feel the softness of her skin. But when I reach the bottom of the fabric, I can’t seem to go through with it, and at the same time her hands leave my hair. Just as quickly as it started, we stop it. Together. Both of us pulling away, panting, our eyes glossy with tears and regret as we roll onto our backs.
She cries soundlessly, with her arm draped over her head, and her chest wrenching as she cries. But I stop crying, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, letting myself die all over again.
Letting the hollowness take back over.
The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Jessica Sorensen, lives in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she’s not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.