A Dream Within A Dream: Saving Quinton

Today is the official release day for Saving Quinton by Jessica Sorensen! Saving Quinton is the latest installment in the Nova series! Read on for more info on the book, a fantastic excerpt, and then enter the giveaway!

Saving Quinton (Nova #2)

Author: Jessica Sorensen

Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance

Release Date: February 3, 2015

Publisher: Forever

Description:

From the # 1 New York Times bestselling author of Breaking Nova comes a gripping story about what it takes to save the one you love . . .

Nova Reed can't forget him-Quinton Carter, the boy with the honey-brown eyes who made her realize she deserved more than an empty life. His pain was so similar to her own. But Nova has been coming to terms with her past and healing, while Quinton is out there somewhere, sinking deeper. She's determined to find him and help him . . . before it's too late.

Nova has haunted his dreams for nearly a year-but Quinton never thought a sweet, kind person like her would care enough about a person like him. To Quinton, a dark, dangerous life is exactly what he deserves. And Nova has no place in it. But Nova has followed him to Las Vegas, and now he must do whatever it takes to keep her away, to maintain his self-imposed punishment for the unforgivable things he's done. But there's one flaw in his plan: Nova isn't going anywhere...

I suddenly realize that I’m in my room. Awake. And Nova’s here. With me. My thoughts start racing as I try to recollect what happened. I was planning on those guys beating me to death. Why didn’t that happen? Because it was too easy? Do I deserve not to be let off so easy—do I deserve worse than death? But if that’s true then why’s Nova here?

“What are you doing here?” It’s painful to talk, but I force the words to leave my mouth. “Or am I dreaming?”

She repositions her hand on my cheek, but doesn’t pull away, the startled look in her eyes diminishing. “You’re not dreaming…you were unconscious but…are you okay?” She seems nervous and it reminds me of how innocent and good she is, and how she shouldn’t be here in the crack house that I call home.

“Why are you here?” I ask, my voice feeble as I try to sit up, but my arms aren’t working and I fall right back down on the mattress.

“I came here to see you,” she replies, absent-mindedly touching her lips, and I wonder if I really kissed her or if I was imagining it.

She stares at me with her fingers on her lips and it’s uncomfortable because she’s really looking at me. I’ve been so used to people looking through me, as if I were a ghost, seeing the drugs, the person that I am now, the worthlessness all over me, instead of who I used to be. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be really looked at and for a split second I enjoy it. Then she looks away and I feel like I’m dying, my brain registering the pain in my legs, arms, chest—everywhere. And I’m crashing. Badly. My hands start to shake, my heart rate picking up as soon as I realize this.

“Go put some ice in a plastic bag,” she says, snapping her fingers at someone.

I hear a mutter and then Tristan steps into my view. He glances down at me and the haziness in his eyes lets me know he’s high on something, but I’m glad he’s at least here and it doesn’t look like he’s been beaten up. “Dude, you look like shit,” he tells me with a dopey-ass grin.

“I feel like shit,” I mutter, managing to get my hand up to my face to rub my eyes. “You look like you got away.”

“I did, and you should have run with me, you dumbass…I thought you were for a while until I realized I was alone.” Tristan chuckles under his breath. “Wait until you see yourself in a mirror.”

His amusement seems to piss Nova off and she gets to her feet, tugging the bottoms of her shorts down, fury burning in her eyes. “Go get a fucking bag to put the ice in,” she says, not yelling, but her tone is cold, abrupt, harsh, and she sort of shoves him. This isn’t the Nova I remember at all and she kind of scares me.

She seems to scare Tristan, too, who surrenders with his hands in front of him and backs toward the doorway. “Fine. Jesus, Nova. You don’t have to get crazy about it.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me get crazy,” she snaps, pointing at the door. “Now go get a damn bag.”

After Tristan leaves, she turns to the doorway and says, “What am I going to do?”

I can’t see who she’s talking to and it makes me wonder who the hell is in here. Delilah? I doubt it, since I don’t think she’d be asking Delilah that question.

“I don’t know,” someone replies. I still can’t see who it is, but I can tell the voice belongs to a female and I hate how excited I get over the fact that Nova’s not here with a guy.

Suddenly a girl with black hair and big blue eyes steps in. “He looks…” She assesses me, then looks at Nova. “He looks like he needs to go to a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” I croak. “I don’t have the cash to pay for that.” And I don’t deserve to heal so easily. I should suffer for getting up and running away from my death.

Nova stares down at me with reluctance. “Quinton, I really think you need to go to a hospital.” She kneels back down on the mattress, sweeping her long brown hair to the side as she leans over me. Her fingers gently enfold my wrist and, moving slowly, she bends my arm so I can get a good view of my hand. It’s twice the size it normally is and my skin is purple and blue. Even where her fingers are, the skin is swollen and raw, and it seems like her touch should hurt, but all I can feel is heat—her heat. God, I’ve missed her heat. I’ve spent the last year wrapped up in coldness, feeling the numbness of drugs and sex with random women and now she’s here and I feel like I’m burning up.

“It’s just a bruise,” I say, not looking at my hand, but at her. I want to hold her, hug her, kiss her, touch her, but I also want her to go away. Stay. Leave. Right. Wrong. Lexi. Nova. Guilt.

Guilt.

Guilt.

Guilt.

It was all your fault.

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.

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Grand Prize: A signed copy of SAVING QUINTON plus audio CDs for THE TEMPTATION OF LILA AND ETHAN and THE DESTINY OF VIOLET AND LUKE

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Saving Quinton (Nova #2)

Author: Jessica Sorensen
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 4, 2014
Publisher: Forever

Description:

Nova Reed can't forget him-Quinton Carter, the boy with the honey-brown eyes who made her realize she deserved more than an empty life. His pain was so similar to her own. But Nova has been coming to terms with her past and healing, while Quinton is out there somewhere, sinking deeper. She's determined to find him and help him . . . before it's too late.

Nova has haunted his dreams for nearly a year-but Quinton never thought a sweet, kind person like her would care enough about a person like him. To Quinton, a dark, dangerous life is exactly what he deserves. And Nova has no place in it. But Nova has followed him to Las Vegas, and now he must do whatever it takes to keep her away, to maintain his self-imposed punishment for the unforgivable things he's done. But there's one flaw in his plan: Nova isn't going anywhere . . .

It’s been a long three days, filled with visits to Quinton that seem to be leading nowhere. We have the same conversations and he won’t open up to me at all and I’m not sure how to bring up to him that I know about the accident, so I just keep dodging around it, lying to him. But bringing up memories like that is complicated and painful. I know because every time someone would even mention Landon’s name after his death, it’d feel like a part of me died inside.

When I’m not over there with Quinton, I spend my time hanging out with Lea. We haven’t gone to the Strip yet, but we chatted about going out this weekend when it’s late and all the lights are on, just as long as her uncle doesn’t mind that we come home late. He actually just got home from his business trip last night and chatted with Lea and me for a little bit. He seems nice and even cooked us dinner while he asked us about our plans while we are here. Lea was vague about the details, telling him that we were here to see a friend.

It’s late morning and I’m sitting in the guest room at Lea’s uncle’s house with the computer screen aimed at me so I can see myself as I get ready to record before I head over to Quinton’s for my daily visit. I have the curtain pulled shut to avoid any glare. My brown hair is wavy and runs down to my shoulders and the blue studs in my ears match my tank top. I have shorts on and no shoes. “It’s been three days of going over to see Quinton and the time I spend with him feels so short and the time in between feels so long because I’m always worried about what he’s doing when I’m gone.” I lean forward in the chair, getting closer to the screen. “I still hate going over there, though, because it’s so terrifying…his place. I’m not even sure why. If it’s because there’s so many rough people walking around doing things that are bad and illegal or if it’s the fact that if I didn’t change paths, I could have ended up there.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “What’s really hard is that sometimes I can see myself there, sitting beside Quinton on the shitty mattress in his room. I can picture myself there getting high beside him, connecting with him, and life is so different. Less stressful.” I make a guilty face. “Maybe that’s not the right word, because it is stressful in a different way, but it’s like you’re so wrapped up in drugs that you can’t register the stress until it’s too late and everything’s falling apart. I don’t want to get sucked into it again, but it’s so easy and even though I won’t tell Lea this”—I lower my voice and lean closer to the screen—“there’s been a few fleeting seconds where I think why not? Why not just join him again? What’s stopping you? Which makes me wonder if maybe I’m not the right person to save Quinton.” I raise my arm in front of the screen and get a shot of my scar and tattoo. “But then I look down at this and I remember that place, where I was so lost, drifting, drifting, drifting. I could have died and it wouldn’t have mattered,” I say. “But right now it does matter because I want to live.”

I sigh, knowing I’m rambling at this point. “Honestly, I don’t know what exactly I’m trying to say with this recording, other than to get my thoughts out.” I faintly smile. “Sort of like a diary.” I click the camera off and shut down the computer. I slip my sandals on and grab my bag, ready to head out, hoping that I can continually remember, never forget just how bad things can get, because it’s what keeps me going.