Fighting for redemption . . .
I've lived most of my life in darkness, beneath the shadows of secrets and addictions. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt the only girl I'd ever loved—the one who brought me into the light. In my entire life I'd made one promise—a promise I'd intended to keep. I've broken that promise and now I have to live with the fallout. Dixie Lark hates me, and I have to tell her that I love her. I also have to tell her a truth that might destroy us forever.
Can she love me, even if she can't forgive me?
Learning to move on . . .
Gavin Garrison broke his promise to my brother and he broke my heart in the process.I may never love anyone the way I've loved him, but at least I won't spend my life wondering "what if." We had our one night and he walked away. I'm beginning to move on, but my brother's wedding and a battle of the bands are about to throw us together again.
Our band is getting a second chance, but I don't know if I can give him one. How do you hand your heart back to the person who set it on fire once already?
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About the Author:
Caisey Quinn lives in Birmingham, Alabama with her daughter and other assorted animals. She is the bestselling author of the Kylie Ryans series as well as several New Adult and Contemporary Romance novels featuring southern girls finding love in unexpected places. You can find her online at www.caiseyquinnwrites.com. She is represented by Kevan Lyon of the Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.
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His mouth is so close, he’s so close. He seems taller or something, and even though I know the likelihood of that is ridiculous, I don’t remember ever feeling so very aware of his presence. Or maybe I just blocked it all out. But here, now, in the room with him, everything is coming back.
All of it.
Every single second we spent connected on a physical level. His mouth on me, his lips, his tongue, his body inside of mine.
“You’re good at this,” I say, barely able to get my voice to go above a whisper.
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
I don’t know if he means with first aid, which is likely since he’s had to perform CPR on his mom more times than I can count, or seduction, which I also happen to know he’s well versed in. Either way, I am in danger of losing my grip on my ability to remain up- right.
It’s as if my brain has been doing me a favor for the past few months, allowing me to focus on being pissed at him instead of . . . this. But clearly my brain has left the building and I am completely on my own. This is dangerous.
I am weak.
I want him.
I need him.
“There,” he says gently, lowering my dress back down over my
thighs. “That might help a little but you should still—”
My mouth captures his midsentence. His lips are slightly moist and even fuller than I remembered. I tense and a dull ache hits hard
as my heart drops a few inches in preparation of being rejected. Much to my surprise, Gavin doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t reject me. He doesn’t spew some bull about my brother or our friendship or seeing anyone else or anything.
He only makes one sound—a soft, pained groan. His hands grip the skin just beneath my ass and he lifts me onto the counter. The dress is tight but I manage to part my thighs far enough to accom- modate his broad figure between them.
My fingers press into his back, urging him closer even though it’s not exactly possible. I try to catch his tongue but he’s sweeping it deeply inside, then pulling back to suck on my lips. A muffled moan escapes my mouth and slides into his.
“You taste like whiskey, Bluebird.” He chuckles lightly, then cuts off any chance I had of verbalizing a response by slipping his fingers between my legs and into the waistband of my panties.
“I’ve come a long way since strawberry ice cream.”
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