What if you knew when someone was going to die?
For seventeen-year-old Ember, life is death. With a simple touch, she knows when someone will die. It’s her curse and the reason she secludes herself from the world. The only person who knows her secret is her best friend Raven.
Then she meets Asher Morgan. He’s gorgeous, mysterious, and is the only person Ember can't sense death from. So when he pushes into her life, she doesn’t mind.
But when unexplained deaths start to haunt her town, Ember starts questioning why she can’t sense Asher's death and what he may be hiding.
For seventeen-year-old Ember, life is death. With a simple touch, she knows when someone will die. It’s her curse and the reason she secludes herself from the world. The only person who knows her secret is her best friend Raven.
Then she meets Asher Morgan. He’s gorgeous, mysterious, and is the only person Ember can't sense death from. So when he pushes into her life, she doesn’t mind.
But when unexplained deaths start to haunt her town, Ember starts questioning why she can’t sense Asher's death and what he may be hiding.
I lean against
the wall, let my head fall back, and shut my eyes. “Breathe, Ember, breathe.
You can’t stop death—it’s endless.”
“God, it’s like
mating season in here,” a deep male voice enfolds around me and sends
vibrations quivering through my body.
I shudder and
misstep, tripping over my feet, and stepping on the toe of his shoes. Actually,
boots; black ones with little silver skulls on the buckles. I like his boots.
My eyes progressively travel upward as I take him in; dark jeans, a plaid shirt
over a black T-shirt and a skull necklace hooks around his neck. There’s a
sequence of leather bands on his wrists and a metal loop ornaments his eyebrow.
His inky black hair dangles in his slate eyes and hangs shaggily over his ears.
His intense gaze
tantalizes my skin as he takes me in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I shiver again at
the sound of his sultry voice as it spills over my skin. “Sorry about your
shoes.” I retreat backward, putting space between us. The last thing I want is
to find out when this gorgeous guy dies.
“Crowded rooms just make me a little
uneasy.”
He laughs softly
as he tosses his cup into the trash. “I know what you mean. All this,” he
motions at the people grinding against one another, “is an excuse for them to
dry hump each other in public.”
I almost smile at
the similarity of our thoughts. “That’s a pretty good observation.”
He presses his lips together and then with a
hesitant look, he leans over my shoulder, putting his lips next to my ear. I stiffen,
worried he’ll touch me and this magical moment will end, but he’s careful,
leaving a sliver of space between his lips and my ear.
The New York Times and USA Today bestselling
author, Jessica Sorensen, lives in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she's
not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jessFallenStar
Facebook (Adult): https://www.facebook.com/JessicaSorensensAdultContemporaryNovels
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