The people we love are thieves.
They steal our hearts. They steal our breath.
They steal our sanity.
And we let them.
Over and over and over again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They say you never forget your first time.
Mine was with a homeless musician who effed my brains out under a bridge.
He was my first love. And fourteen years later, I still can't get him out of my head.
He broke all my rules.
He also broke my heart.
I watched him climb to stardom, cheering him on from afar.
But I was never a fan; just a girl in love.
Like a tornado, he spiraled, leaving a path of destruction in his wake.
But love conquers all, right? It has to. Because here I stand, ravaged and ruined, needing it to be true.
You can't go back, but I want to. Back to the park. Back to when he sang only for me. Before he was famous. Before he shattered my heart.
I thought I knew everything about him.
But I could not have been more wrong.
He promised me every tomorrow. And here I am, waiting.
“This is going to be in the running for my “Best Reads of 2018″. This story is going to take you on a journey of love, forgiveness and salvation. It's beautifully written and I was spellbound by it! Bravo Ms. Cole! I so look forward to reading your past works and your future stories!” ~ Bibliophile Chloe
“No Tomorrow is a heartbreakingly beautiful story about modern day love, struggles with mental illness, and the sheer strength of the human spirit. I have read thousands and thousands of books. I have discovered some authors so talented, they render me speechless. Never before have I felt like I did while reading a story, or been as spectacularly affected by a book of this calibre.” ~ Amazon Reviewer
“From their shocking beginnings to their heartbreaking and passionate connection this is a book that I will not only treasure, but read over and over again. Carian Cole has blown my mind and heart away yet again.” ~ The Book Fairy Reviews
“If you are in the mood for an epic love story with so many feels, being beautiful, devastating and heartbreaking then be brave and read the journey of love that Piper and Blue had to take. This story will stay close to me forever.” ~ Love A Good Book
Read an Excerpt:
I stand near the door and peer around the small, dim space. I’m afraid if I move, I’ll walk right into a spider web. A sleeping bag is on the floor under the window, and Acorn’s dishes are on the other side of the room, next to Evan’s guitar case.
“We can sit on the sleeping bag.” He moves the lantern from the middle of the floor to one of the corners. “Or we can sit on these old lawn chairs I found. I just have to clean them off.”
“Um….” I gnaw my lower lip and try to fight off all the phobias engulfing me.
The breath I’ve been holding whooshes from my lungs. “It’s just a little scary in here.”
“Scary how? What are you scared of?”
“Spiders, mostly. And bats.”
“The only thing in here that can hurt you is me.”
A shiver creeps down my spine. “Would you?” I whisper. “Hurt me?”
He backs me up against the cobweb-strewn wall and leans his arms on either side of my head, trapping me.
“I don’t want to, but I will. And you’ll keep letting me.” He brushes his lips across mine. “You falling in love with me will destroy us both.”
My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he can feel it against his own chest.
I force out my next question. “You think I’m falling in love with you?”
“Why else would you be here?”
I tremble as he grabs my waist and presses his hard body against mine. I want to deny his accusation, but his lips on mine stop the lies from spilling from my mouth. I’m pinned like a butterfly specimen, splayed open with no way to hide, vulnerable to his physical and emotional scrutiny.
“I know you want me, Piper.” He slides a gentle hand along the curve of my hip, then down over the back pocket of my jeans. He cups my ass cheek in his hand and squeezes hard—like he’s claiming ownership. “And I know you’re falling in love with me.”
“Blue….” I say his name like what he’s saying can’t possibly be true.
“Don’t worry, baby. I think I’m falling in love with you too.”
He lifts me off the floor in a single motion that seems effortless. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and hold on tight while he carries me to the other side of the room, releasing my hold on him only when he lowers me onto the thin sleeping bag.
“And….” His eyes darken for a moment and it fills me with that flash of worry that he’s got one foot ready to run if I get too close. He’s scared. Maybe as much as I am. “… it’s scaring the hell out of me.”
He climbs between my parted legs and lowers his mouth onto mine, kissing me in that crazy, desperate way he does, like there’s something inside me he needs and can’t find.
When I can’t breathe anymore, I pull away. His long hair falls into my face as I stare up into his eyes. The thin sleeping bag offers no protection from the wooden floor, and I shift slightly beneath his weight while I gather my thoughts.
“We can be scared together,” I whisper reassuringly, trying to convince both of us that it’ll be okay. Although honestly, I’m not sure anything can extinguish the fear his eyes convey.
He nods, his eyes locked onto mine, and slowly rubs his thumb across my bottom lip. The shaking of his hand is like a vise around my heart, and it clenches and explodes into millions of little pieces aching with love and protectiveness over him.
“Have you been in love before?” I ask softly. Did she hurt him? Was she the reason he left his home? Did she kick him out?
It takes him a few moments to answer, and he uses those moments to slowly remove my clothes while I use those moments to hope his answer is no.
He trails a finger from my stomach all the way up between my breasts, and my nipples harden into peaks from the feather-light, tickling touch.
“I have,” he finally answers, gently cupping my breasts and pressing his palm against the sensitive tips. “Been hopelessly in love.”
Jealousy creeps in like a monster, distracting me from the exquisite sensation of his warm hands on my body. “What happened with her?”
He bends down and circles my breast with his tongue, flicking his piercing over my aching nipple. The cool silkiness of his hair fans out over my skin.
“It wasn’t a woman. I was in love with drugs.”
The truth is unexpected but equally devastating.
He kisses a trail along my throat, his tongue teasing me while he palms my breast. “And now I’m in love with music and freedom. And a little sweet, sexy chick with a funky name.”
He flashes me his irresistible, crooked grin. I feel immediately grateful that his shaky hands have stilled and in place of the sadness in his eyes, I now see playfulness. Smiling, I reach up and touch the feather hanging from his ear.
“Tell me about this. Something as unique as this must have a story, right?”