Book & Author Details:
Never Stop Falling by Ashley Drew
Publication date: March 1st 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
She didn’t expect to fall for her best friend.
He was always waiting to catch her.
Corinne Bennett lives in the moment. Whether she’s skydiving out of an airplane, or setting off on the road to anywhere, she’s ready to dive into the next adventure. That is, if best friend and always-by-the-book Nicholas Kelley doesn’t put his foot down on her wild stunts first.
When Corinne gives in to her growing feelings for Nicholas the summer before their freshman year of college, she takes the ultimate risk, making this one adventure he has longed to explore with her.
But the moment they take that irrevocable leap, a shocking revelation blindsides Corinne, exposing her vulnerabilities, baring her fears, and shattering her beliefs about love. With their future—and most importantly, their friendship—now clouded in doubt, she must decide if love is really worth the risk.
Because when it comes to love, you never stop falling.
He said he couldn’t wait for me.
His last words continue to echo in my thoughts, silencing the drone of the airplane’s engines. About a month has passed since, but his words are so deafening he might as well be sitting beside me with a bullhorn at my ear. Though, I wouldn’t mind it, since he’d only be inches away instead of a few thousand miles, close enough so that my knee would fall against his. I’d lay my head along the broad plateau of his shoulder, and our elbows would playfully battle it out over the armrest between us. Eventually, I’d let him win.
I glance at the empty seat to my left, and for a split second, I almost wish it was occupied. Perhaps then, I’d be too distracted by an airplane-etiquette-dimwit sitting in Seat B, with his blatant disregard for personal space as his foot ventures into space clearly meant for Seat A—me. The vacant seat is only a reminder of the emptiness in my heart. So, Dimwit in Seat B, bring on the bad manners because you’d actually be doing me a favor.
“Can I offer you anything to drink, sweetheart?” the flight attendant asks as she reaches my row with the beverage cart, an extra amount of cheer exuding from her dimpled grin. This woman embodies the definition of Miss Susie Sunshine, with the right amount of bounce in her golden locks, her cheeks a rosy pink that perfectly contour her heart-shaped face, and her pearly whites nearly blinding me as a flash of sunlight pokes through the window and dances off of them. If this is what happiness smells like at nine in the morning, then I just got a big whiff of it because this woman reeks of cheer. Then again, I do have to applaud her. Not many people have as much cheer in their entire body as she does in her right pinky.
I eye the selection before telling her, “I’ll take the strongest thing you’ve got on that cart of yours. Whatever says: ‘I’m moving across the country for a guy who probably doesn’t want me anymore because I pretty much threw his declaration of love in his face, but hey, a girl can try, right?’ Whatever says that, I’ll take it.”
The flight attendant grins and winks at me. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Corinne, I’ve got just the thing for you.”
She scans through her beverage selection and pulls out two little bottles of vodka with one hand, and a canned tomato juice and cup of ice with the other. I guess she’s done this countless times before. For this exact reason, maybe not, but surely she’s heard and seen it all. I reach for my purse wedged beneath the seat in front of me, but she simply shakes her head as she hands me the drinks.
“Good luck, Corinne.”
I return her generosity with an appreciative smile.
She leaves as I pull down the seat-back tray and place the vodka, tomato juice, and cup on top of it. I ought to stick to one bottle because the last time I had hard liquor, I paid dearly for it. One drink at thirty-thousand feet equals two, so I’ve heard, and if by some miracle, he is waiting for me when I disembark, well, I want to be coherent, not letting my mouth run off and calling redheads who I don’t know fire-crotch. I still can’t believe I said that.
A San Francisco Bay Area native, Ashley Drew currently lives in Los Angeles. When she’s not going cross-eyed after writing for five hours straight, or burying her nose in a book, you’ll find her sprawled on her couch watching General Hospital, having alien conspiracy discussions with her husband over a bottle of bubbly, and dancing to Taylor Swift’s 1989 album with her daughter.