From the bestselling co-author of the Beautiful Creatures novels and the Dangerous Creatures novels, comes a red-hot romance that will break your heart and put it back together again, and I have an excerpt for you. Broken Beautiful Hearts is now available.
Excerpt
It’s like I’m watching a bad Saturday Night Live skit, and I can’t change the channel. “I’m taking a walk.”
“Where are you going?” Cam looks worried.
I nod in the direction of the barn and lower my voice. “Over there.
I’m not interested in joining the cast of this soap opera.”
“I’ll come with you.” Cam grabs a beer from one of his buddies. “Hang out with your friends. I’m fine.”
Cam lets me go, but he stays in the same spot, craning his neck until it’s too dark to see me.
I yank on the sides of the brace as I trek through the muddy grass—at least I hope it’s mud. Finding a position that will make this stupid thing more comfortable is impossible. If my future on the soccer field weren’t at stake, I would’ve trashed it already. I lean forward and give the brace a hard pull as I turn the corner. I look up in time to see a figure coming toward me in the darkness, but it’s too late to stop. Our bodies collide and I lose my balance.
“Shit!” a guy calls out.
My knee buckles and I reach for the side of the barn, but my fingers barely graze the wood.
I fall backward and my mind flashes on the image of Reed standing at the top of the steps. My back hits something, and suddenly I’m being lifted. I blink hard, my eyes adjusting to the contrast between the darkness and the glow of the moonlight.
Owen looks down at me, his chest only inches from mine. His fingers press against the curve of my waist, and I realize his arm is behind me. My palms turn cold and clammy, and my stomach feels like a twisted towel waiting for someone to finish wringing it out.
“Sorry. I was reading a text.” Owen steps back as if he’s checking for injuries, and recognition flickers in his eyes. “Twice in one day. You must think I’m an ass.”
“You just startled me,” I manage, disentangling myself from him.
I take in the tousled dirty-blond hair that curls at his collar, his square jaw, and those warm brown eyes. It’s hard to see them in the dark, but I remember from the football stadium.
He’s gorgeous—the kind of gorgeous reserved for guys who don’t know it.
“If we’re going to spend this much time together, you should probably know my name.” He holds out his hand. “Owen Law.”
I offer him mine, and his fingers curl around my wrist, grazing my pulse point.
“I’m Peyton.”
Owen gives me a sheepish smile. “I know all about you.”
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