T-Minus FOUR DAYS

FOUR DAYS until Broken at Love no longer belongs to me alone, but to y'all also. I've got another teaser for you today, and hopefully it will make you crave a little more!

This snippet is from Quinn's POV!
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I smiled, too, and shook their hands. The chorus of nice to meet you, heard so much about you, and sorry about the knee melted into a giant soup of chatter. Together, Teddy and I worked the room for another half an hour before I excused myself, expressing a desire to peruse some of the art for sale by my classmates.

Everyone in the vicinity smiled indulgent approval, but Teddy’s eyes darkened. “The dedication is in twenty minutes. Out here.”

“I’ll be back before then.”

I escaped without a backward glance, not intending to upset him but needing some time to breathe. For all of the parties and people constantly in and out of my house, crowds got under my skin unless they were neatly seated in stadium rows. It had gotten me a bad rep as a player who avoided autographs on the tour, but the crush of humanity pressed around me, shouting my name and sticking shit in my face, really wigged me out.

The clean, wide hallways displayed artwork and provided a less clogged space. People spoke softly in front of different pieces, commenting on brush strokes or color or possible inspiration. The lighting back here was softer, aimed at the walls instead of beating down like spotlights on a stage. It helped me relax, and the art took my mind off my father for five minutes.

Until I turned a corner and found myself in a nearly empty alcove. A girl with long dark hair pulled up into a knot sat alone on a bench. The bare, slumped shoulders were the color of toffee and when I closed my eyes I could smell them again.

I almost ran. Maybe I should have, but we were going to have to face one another sooner or later and we might as well get it done alone. “Emilie.”

She turned slowly, standing to face me, and the sight of her in the cherry red gown literally took my breath away. It hugged her waist on its way to the floor, strapless but tasteful, baring an enticing hint of what I’d held in my hands only days ago.

Unspilled tears shone in her dark eyes and she wiped at them hastily. I pulled the off-white handkerchief square from my breast pocket and handed it over.

Emilie wiped her eyes a few times, then glared at me. “I’m not crying about you.”

“I didn’t assume you were.”

The quiet snuggled around us like a cocoon until her sigh whispered against my ears. “I haven’t sold a single piece.”

“The night is young.”

She shook her head. “Plenty of the others have sold canvases already. It’s me. My father was right about this being a stupid life decision. It’s time for me to face it.”

My arms ached from holding still; I wanted to reach out and tug her against my chest, keep the pain of failure away. No one could do that, though, not for any of us. Sometimes you got your ass kicked, but it didn’t mean you got to walk off the court before the match ended.

“It’s hard to create, Emilie. You put your heart onto canvases and let other people look at it. They can love it or they can trash it, but you’re not an artist until you share your work. It’s brave.”

“Kind of like relationships, no?”

A challenge ignited in the center of her intelligent black gaze. It burned a hole through my skin until I felt exposed and I shrugged. “Some might say that.”

“Not you.”

“There are people who will appreciate your work,” I said, changing the subject. “Maybe they’re not here tonight but it shouldn’t stop you.”

“You really like my work?” The surprise in her voice cut like a knife.

“I told you I did.”

“Yeah, but after what…happened I assumed you were just saying that.”

“To what? Get you into bed?” Anger tightened my jaw. “I’m not a liar.”

She walked toward me, the lithe movement reminding me of how supple and acquiescent she was underneath that dress, and I closed my eyes briefly as the summery smell of her washed over me. Her hands reached out and so help me God I would rip that dress off her if she touched me.

They only straightened my bow tie, then returned the dampened hanky into my pocket.

“I know you’re not.” Her smile was hesitant and sad, but not over the two of us. It looked more similar to the pity for me she’d displayed the night we met. “At least, not when it comes to the things you tell other people."

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There you have it! What do you think about Quinn after this??

Don't forget to add Broken at Love on Goodreads, and get ready for release day!

It's Tea(ser) Time!

Hey lovely readers!!

Broken at Love releases in just over a week, and I thought I'd celebrate by posting a few teasers between now and then! This first one takes place in Chapter 6 - I hope you enjoy it!!

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Our eyes met, passion burning so hot in his gaze that it lit me on fire. I gasped when his fingers moved again, brushing the tender skin behind my knee. “It’s your turn again.”

“Did you like kissing me the other night?”

Oh, God. “Truth?”

Quinn nodded, his fingers skimming higher, leaving trails of wildfire in their wake. He was distracting me from the too-personal questions and the fact that he’d refused to answer most of them. My rational mind knew it but my traitorous body didn’t care if we’d finished using our mouths for talking the rest of the night.

“Yes.”

The word didn’t have a chance to fully form before his mouth met mine. The hot saltiness that clung to his lips tasted as good as the other night, and this time I let myself enjoy it. When he felt my hesitation dissolve he leaned in, hands sliding all the way up my dress and gripping my hips, tugging me closer. A whimper escaped at the demanding feel of his touch and I didn’t even care if he heard it.

My nerve endings came alive. If he had four or five hands it would have been better, because as good as they felt on my bare hips, I wanted to feel them everywhere else, too.

As though Quinn read my mind, one hand made its way up to my neck, tilting my head back and opening my lips. His tongue slipped against mine, not asking. Taking. My heart stuttered faster when his breathing quickened, fingers wound tight in the hair at the back of my neck. Shivers joined the shuddering heat and need wetting my skin. When his arm pressed against my left breast I managed to free my arms, winding them around his neck.

We couldn’t get any closer sitting cross-legged facing each other, and the intensity of my frustration at that fact knocked some sense back into me. His heart pounded underneath my palms, matching the thudding in my own ears. Quinn’s lips left mine bruised and swollen, moving down my neck. He flicked his tongue over my throbbing pulse in the hollow between my neck and shoulder. If I’d been standing, my knees would have given out.

“Quinn,” I gasped.

He paused but didn’t move, so I reached shaking hands to his strong jaw and lifted his face back to mine. I couldn’t resist pressing my mouth to his one more time, or sliding my tongue over his bottom lip to remember what he tasted like. Or taking a quick nip. Too delicious.

“It’s my turn.” 

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So what did you think? If you liked it, don't forget to add Broken at Love on Goodreads, like me on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter! More to come!!