Don’t judge me.
I am not what you see.
I am the opposite.
—Nadia’s lipstick note on Bo’s mirror.
Indie-rocker Bo Lindgren is worshiped for his looks and musical genius. It’s been lonely at the top since his ex left. Bo will never take a girlfriend again though, because he doesn’t have the chops to love. He knows he’s poison, a heartbreak waiting to happen for anyone he allows too close—like his ex. Bo screws his way through the fangirls until he’s sick of it all. Until the dark gaze of Nadia Vidal appears in the door to his dressing room.
Saved from an arranged marriage by Jude, the love of her life, Nadia eloped and got married at nineteen. But now, two years later, life is wilted, dead, and not what anyone should have to endure.
Nadia, with her secret-keeper eyes and instant understanding of who Bo is, attracts and fascinates him without even trying. The ring gleaming on her finger should keep them apart, but morals can’t always resist destiny.
When brokenhearted meets heartbreaker, whose heart is really at stake?
Her moods flow in gentle waves. The coffee of her irises swims with sadness then lifts into whiskey gold with the twang of my guitar. Left to ourselves in the back lounge, our silence is sinuous, laced with stories from my hometown, Skala, and Nadia’s anecdotes from growing up in a cult. But when we’re quiet, my fingers itch and find my guitar. Toy with strings and enunciate emotions she tries to conceal.
Sometimes, my riffs turn to ballads while lyrics splash out in patches of color in my head. Sometimes, when Nadia curves a hip to get comfortable, my gaze float to her waist and shifts to her chest. The game of my chords turns loaded, adding a steady, slow beat, the way I do to make her climb when we’re together.
Without words, she still hears my hunger. Watches my fingers work metal strings with a need that becomes X-rated. And she sits up. Joins her legs and lowers her chin to her knees, demure, secretive, hiding behind her hair in shyness and not understanding that she’s sexier than ever.
All these females. So many women and vixens with a past, a present, and a future—a full life I never wanted to be a part of. But now, I crave to bury deep under the skin of a single girl who is not single.
It’s been a while since I spoke last, so my voice rasps deep when I say, “You kill me.”
“I don’t want to kill you. Do you know the person you are? How talented you are? You deserve so much, Bo, you don’t even know, and the last thing you need is dead weight like me.”
Sunniva was born in Norway, the Land of The Midnight Sun, but spent her early twenties making the world her playground. Southern Europe: Spain, Italy, Greece—Argentina: Buenos Aires, in particular. The United States finally kept her interest, and after half a decade in California, she now lounges in the beautiful city of Savannah. Sunniva has a Master’s degree in Spanish, which she taught until she settled in as an adviser at an art college in the South.
Sunniva writes New Adult fiction with soul. Sometimes it’s with a paranormal twist, like in Shattering Halos, Stargazer, and Cat Love. At other times, it’s contemporary, as in Pandora Wild Child, Leon’s Way, Adrenaline Crush, and now Walking Heartbreak.
Sunniva is the happiest when her characters take over, let their emotions run off with them, shaping her stories in ways she never foresaw. She loves bad-boys and good-boys run amok, and like in real life, her goal is to keep you on your toes until the end of each story.
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