Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Surf & Surrender by Riley Edgewood

Title: Surf & Surrender
Author: Riley Edgewood
Series: Summer Love #2
Genre: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Release Date: February 23, 2015
She wants to forget he ever existed. He’d never give up her memory.

Quinn Westwood is completely over Sawyer Carson. He broke her heart years ago and disappeared from her life without a word. So yeah. She’s over him. Never even thinks of him. In fact, she’s spending her college summer break surfing and lifeguarding in the Outer Banks, while nursing a bruised heart from a different relationship gone wrong. She doesn’t have room in her mind or heart for Sawyer—until she runs into him at a beach bonfire and the sparks that fly between them are way hotter than the flames heating the sand.

Sawyer never got over Quinn. The only thing stronger than what he feels for her is the secret keeping them apart, but sharing it would destroy more than just his life—it’d ruin hers, as well. Still, he can’t seem to keep away from her, can’t seem to keep his hands off of her soft, tempting skin. Especially since she has even less self-control when it comes to reigniting the physical side of what made them perfect together.

But secrets have a way of slipping out, and when Sawyer’s is revealed it threatens to shatter everyone involved. He’ll have to face walking away a second time, and Quinn will have to decide if fighting for him is worth it when the fallout could affect more than just her heart, but also those of the people she loves most.

Surf & Surrender is the second book in Riley Edgewood’s Summer Love series, but can be read as a stand-alone novel.

     "Lay off me." My brother fights my grip, but I've got two inches and thirty pounds on him. Plus, I'm sober. And pissed.
     I push his face closer to the stuff that's already permeating through my entire car. "What did I tell you about throwing up in here?"
    He's really grappling against me now. And I'm really not budging.
     "Let me go and I'll tell you about Quinn."
     This—the shock jolting my system—loosens my grip more than anything else could. "What?"
     He turns his face sideways to look up at me. I give him that much leeway. Because I'm still not sure I heard him right. Then he says, "I saw Quinn."
     Fragments of memories barrel through my mind so fast I almost lose my breath.
     Long, slender fingers tracing hearts against my callused palms. A white daisy tucked into hair that's brown like autumn and windblown and trailing down her back for miles.
     The somehow both sweet and rough scents of salt water and sand. Laughter like sea glass wind chimes spinning in the breeze.
     I want to ask where? How? When?
     I want to crack his skull open and climb into his memory to see her again.
     I rub my face with my free hand to wipe it all away. "Goddamn it, Jess. She's the one person I told you we couldn't see if we came back."
     "Two," he slurs, squirming on his knees. "Two people."
     It's true. But she's the only one who matters. The only one who ever has.
     Jesus. Just her name in my brain is enough to make my gut jump.
     So I let go of Jess's neck.
     He face-plants into his own puke and comes up spitting, swearing. I shrug and try not to laugh at the horror in his expression. It's hard. Which means I'm out of the grip of the past. "You wanted me to let you go, so I did."
     "You're such a dick."
     I can't deny it. Instead, I grab a beach towel from the backseat and let him use it to wipe off his face—and then my car. He gags the entire time, and nothing could bring me more pleasure.
     "How'd she look?" I ask a few minutes and miles later. I don't expect an answer. The kid's eyes are closed so hard they look swollen.
     "Skinny," he slurs. "Stupid."
     "You sure you weren't just looking in a mirror?"
     He mumbles something I'm pretty sure is, "Fuck you," but I let it slide because I'm remembering in more than just splinters of snapshots. More than a hand or a laugh. Quinn.
     Skinny? Maybe. She's always been slight.
     Stupid? Not a chance in hell.
     One of us would've run into her sooner or later. The Outer Banks is a big area, but the spots locals prefer are few. I'm surprised it's taken the two months it has.
     Thing is, though, if it happened to Jess, then statistically my chances seem smaller now. "Goddamn it, Jess."
     But he's snoring. And I shouldn't be asking about her anyhow.
     I spend the rest of the ride trying to figure out how to get the smell out of my car—and quick, because I have a fucking date tonight.

     Whatever Danny's response was, it's drowned out by the sound of glass shattering and a loud shriek. We all turn toward the bonfire as a girl with long brown hair sprints in our direction, laughing as she passes us.
     And behind her?
     Sawyer Carson.
     Shock is an iron collar tightening around my neck.
     No. It's Novocain, making my face completely numb.
     I recognize his stance before my gaze even gets to his face, and the sudden understanding of his shape is an electric cannonball slamming into my chest, where it sits still for a moment, ticking, ticking… The enormity of it is too heavy to leave room for breath.
     Then we catch eyes, and the damn thing explodes in my veins.
     The entirety of me buzzes. Under my skin. Vibrations. Jolts. They hurt.
     They burn.
     They thrill.

* 3 Things More Shocking Than Seeing Sawyer Again *
1. A strike of lightning.
2. A live electrical appliance dropped in water.
3. Nothing. Sawyer's face in front of me is the third most shocking thing there is.
It even beats out a defibrillator.
Though if my heart doesn't start beating again soon, I may need one.

* * * * * *

     He's changed. Where he used to be lanky, he's toned. His skin looks like honey in the backlit glow of the fire, and his eyes are such a bright green, I can see their color even in the dark.
     There's a tension in his posture, some dark thing coiled under his skin, barely kept in check. And whatever it is, it's all about me. He still hasn't looked away.
     He's sexy as hell.
     But I can't just stand here studying him. I need to move. To act. To do something.
     For instance, breathe. I need to breathe.
     So I do.

     "Sorry." God, it burns, apologizing to him. A small flare of anger makes it easier to look back up into his face.
     He's staring at my neck and swallowing. He used to have a fascination with kissing me just above my collarbone. I drag a finger across the skin, fighting a smirk when his eyes follow the motion. I wonder if he's thinking about it now.
     I am.
     Damn it.
     "Guess it's easy to make assumptions about what you might mean, given your track record of being so forthcoming." There. Situation fixed. Now his gaze is heavy on mine, and even a little pissed.
     Good. Anger's better than the other thing.
     "New wakeboard. That's why you're here, right?" His tone is as pointed as his expression.
     "Are you working?" I ask, just as pointedly. "You've still got sand on your chest." He does. A dusting of brown sand I'm dying to brush away with my fingers. "Kind of unprofessional."
     "I walked in from lunch literally five minutes before you got here, Quinn." He unwraps his towel and even though I try so hard not to, I glance down. Board shorts. Obviously he wasn't naked. God. "Is this better?"
     "You might want to try putting on a shirt."
     "Last time you were all take off your shirt, Sawyer, and now it's put your shirt on, Sawyer." He smirks. "Hard to tell how to please you these days."
     "Pretty sure you know exactly how to please me." The sentence just slips out and hangs in the air between us…

Author Bio:
Riley lives in the DC area and spends most of her time with her characters, playing with her toddler and husband, and pretending she knows how to be an adult. Former dancer. Current writer. Lifelong lover of accessories, books, and the beach. And cats. Can't forget the kitties. Of which she has two.



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